She gave him a siren’s smile and walked toward him.
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‘ I ‘he Healer felt Lady Moraine’s head, her long narrow fingers gentle
1 and light, covering every bit of her skull. “Ah,” she said, pressed Lady Moraine’s head back, and looked closely into her eyes. She pulled up the r’ eyelids and looked some more. She hummed as she smoothed her fingers over Lady Moraine’s ears, twisting and turning them, pulling them away from her head and peering inside. % Hastings began to fidget.
Lady Moraine did nothing at all, merely stroked Alfred’s length in longT’slow strokes. He was hanging over her lap, purring so loudly Hastings wondered if it didn’t distract the Healer. Evidently not.
The Healer finally turned to Hastings and said simply, “I am the most skilled healer in all of Britain. The potion I gave your husband’s mother
* has cleared out the clogged pathways in her brain and balanced her humors once again.”
Lady Moraine cleared her throat even as she petted Alfred, who was now purring so loudly she had to speak louder than normal. “Healer, I thank you. Will I take your potion the rest of my days?”
“Aye, my lady, I think it wise. I do not know if the potion has per-
manently removed all the clogging from your brain or if it will return if you cease the potion.”
“I will take it even when I am on my deathbed.”
“Aye, you want to be full-witted when you prepare to leave this earth. Now, Hastings told me that one of the wounds on your left foot hasn’t healed properly.”
Alfred had to leave the goddess, though it was obvious he didn’t want to. Hastings hadn’t realized her mother-in-law was so strong. She actually lifted Alfred and set him on the cottage floor. His huge tail whipped the air. He meowed loudly, then nudged over his bowl with his nose, sending it careening out the front of the cottage.
The Healer laughed even as she lifted Lady Moraine’s foot and closely examined it. She felt every toe, pulling them apart to peer closely between them. The Healer said, “Does this hurt, lady? No? Very good. Ah, here is the problem. Just a pinch of patel root and saffron strands mixed in a bit of hot water will heal this. Ah, lady, you clean well between your toes. This is good. It keeps lice and ticks away.” She looked to see Alfred, looking ready to leap at Hastings, adding, “It will not, however, keep Alfred at bay.”
Alfred leapt. Hastings staggered backward, clutching the cat in her arms.
When Hastings and Lady Moraine left the Healer, after giving her three fresh pheasants for her cook pot, two of them for Alfred, Gwent and his two men did not at first react. They were staring at Alfred, who did at that moment look like the Devil’s familiar. He was seated in the open doorway of the cottage, nearly as tall as Edgar the wolfhound, cleaning his teeth with the claws of his left paw.
“That beast came from a witch’s brew,” he said under his breath, but Alfred snapped his tail hair, stared hard at Gwent, and looked very pleased with himself when Gwent jumped a good two feet into the air.
“That damnable beast,” Gwent yelled, angry with himself for reacting so strongly. One of the men dared to laugh. Gwent turned on him,
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giving him so mean a look that the man paled and shrank down in his saddle.
“You are well, Lady Moraine?” he asked, as he assisted her into her palfrey’s saddle.
“I will remain sane, Gwent, and thus able to give my son endless advice on the running of Oxborough. What think you of that?”
Gwent smiled widely. “I believe Lord Severin will be so pleased we will have a feast to celebrate. As for advice, lady, you will have to contend with Hastings.”
“I will never contend with Hastings. She is the most perfect of daughters.”