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accomplished in so short a time is a miracle blessed by God. The whole town supports you.”
    At being called a miracle, Murdoch shot Lissandra a glance that should have sizzled, but she ignored the warning. “My husband”—she sought some explanation for Murdoch’s behavior—“seems not himself. Was there some accident in which he was hurt?”
    Père Antoine’s eyes widened. “He was shot from behind while saving his friends from thieves. He healed so well. . . .”
    Shot! Someone had almost killed a potential Oracle? Lissandra glanced in horror at the half-hidden man, but he offered only an angled eyebrow, daring her to comment. Aelynners healed quickly, and Murdoch faster than most, since he possessed Healing abilities of his own. She shook her head free of fretting thoughts to concentrate on getting what she wanted.
    She touched the priest’s arm earnestly, willing him to believe her. “I don’t think it’s wise for my husband to travel until he recovers fully.”
    The priest relaxed. She felt sorry for the man. The villagers’ homes and livelihoods had been ruined, and only Murdoch had come to their aid. The priest protected his people as fiercely as she guarded hers.
    â€œYour . . . husband . . . has gifts that we need,” the priest murmured, “gifts from God. I do not understand how he does it, but in only a few days, he has restored the church. And in the absence of our menfolk, he has begun replanting the wheat fields all on his own. He is a miracle worker.”
    â€œHe has studied under great men from around the world,” Lissandra assured him.
    Murdoch coughed to cover a snigger. She knew him that well, even after all these years. At least he wasn’t raging and throwing a tantrum at the lies she was telling. She would no doubt pay for them later. If human behavior was the same here as at home, he’d be scorned by all if he did not eventually leave with his “wife.”
    â€œAh,” the priest said. “That explains much.” He looked at Murdoch sharply. “Perhaps we will not say this too loudly for a while yet. These are simple people who need a miracle to believe in. If you are to stay for any length of time, you will need to behave more circumspectly.”
    â€œI will attempt to refrain from heaving scoundrels into trees,” Murdoch said with insouciance, daring the priest to believe the impossible. “But I would house my lady wife safely.”
    Lissandra suspected she was about to regret her impulsive decision to become his “wife.”
    â€œOf course,” the priest agreed, pulling on his bottom lip in thought.
    â€œThe woodcutter’s cottage will suffice,” Murdoch continued as if he’d not been interrupted. “It is some distance from town, so I cannot get into too much trouble.”
    â€œBut the fields . . .” The priest looked up anxiously.
    â€œHe is injured,” Lissandra reminded him. “It is far better if he imparts his wisdom to your people rather than do it all himself.”
    â€œFair enough. We will provide the cottage and what food we can in return for his lessons. Knowledge can be passed on, and we will be richer for it.”
    â€œWise man, Père Antoine, not to argue with the lady. We wouldn’t wish her to lose her temper.” With a smirk, Murdoch straightened from the wall he’d been leaning against. “It might be best if the committee does not know where we are. I’ll come to town instead.”
    â€œPerhaps that is best,” the priest agreed. “But if you need anything . . .” The priest made the sign of the cross. “In this time of trouble, you have been our savior. Go with God.”
    He blended into the shadows in the direction of the chapel, leaving them alone, together.

Five
    Murdoch grabbed his wife’s elbow, and dragged Lis toward the stable. She resisted. He tugged. She practically