Should I tell him I love him? We were together, as companions and as lovers. I did not know what his philosophy said of love. Did I want to risk what I already had?
The men, Cillian among them, brought the bodies of the three jerv cubs back in mid-afternoon, and the fur and claws of the adult. The meat would be fed to the dogs. At the communal fire that night, I listened to words of praise and had three of the jerv's claws hung around my neck on a thong. The child I had saved was also honoured, a cub's claw tied around her neck. Drums pounded, the fire burned high, people chanted and danced and came to offer me drink and food and to touch the jerv's claws hanging on my breast, whispering 'devanī'.
“You have brought us good fortune: this is a strong omen, on the day the ice was defeated,” Grêt said, reluctantly, I thought. “There will be good hunting and a rich harvest this year.” I guessed touching the jerv's claws was thought to bring luck, and let it happen as graciously as I could. But when Ivor's hand reached for my breast, not the claws, I slapped his hand away. He laughed.
“I have killed a jerv,” he said. “I have my own claws. We are meant to be together, you and me.”
“We are not. I am Cillian's.” It was what Ivor would understand.
“The stranger? He is not a real man,” he scoffed. “He does not give you children; all his potency is given to his words. I would give you a child after one or two nights.”
“Go away,” I said, letting my disgust colour my voice. He laughed again, trailed a finger along the claws, and sauntered away. I turned to see Grêt watching me.
“My son wants you,” she said. “You would have much status, as his wife.”
“Perhaps I would be the one who brought him status, or luck,” I replied. I walked away, looking for Cillian. He was talking to Fél, near the fire. I stopped to watch him, testing my new certainty. I love you. The idea had settled over the day, beginning to feel familiar. Fél looked my way. He beckoned me over.
I went to them, hoping my new knowledge wasn't obvious on my face. But they had other things on their minds.
“Do you think our bird bow arrows can be used against geese?” Cillian asked.
“If you had to. Ducks, yes. Geese...you'd be better with a larger bow,” I said. “Why?”
“There will be many geese on the waters, now, dawn and dusk,” Fél said. “Time to hunt them. We leave this week, for three days.”
“You are going?” I asked Cillian.
“Yes. Eryl and Fél have asked me to.”
“I will find a larger bow for you,” Fél told Cillian. “Lena, if you want, you can sleep with Kaisa and Aetyl, while Cillian is gone. If you don't want to be alone.”
“Thank you, Fél,” I said. “I may do that.”
We walked back to the hut in the oddly warm night. “When are you leaving for the goose hunt?” I asked.
“The day after tomorrow, in the morning,” he answered. “It is a long walk to where they gather at night, and we need to be there when they come in at dusk.”
“Do you need to take food?”
“Fél said no.” He looked up at the stars. “Do you realize these will be the first nights we have spent apart since we left the Empire, almost a year ago?”
“You'll be glad of the respite from me,” I said, teasingly.
“Not at all. I have grown very used to having you near.”
“Yes, well, don't put your arm around Ivor in the night,” I said. He began to laugh.
“He will sleep as far away from me as he can, I think,” he said. “Ivor does not like me.”
“Ivor doesn't like anyone,” I answered. “But he still wants me, so that means he dislikes you even more.”
“Perhaps it is a good thing he will be with us.”
“I can take care of myself,” I assured him.
“I know you can,” he said. “You deserved to be honoured tonight, Lena. Did it please you, to have your skills recognized?” He put an arm around my shoulders for a quick hug, an unusual gesture from him in public.
“Perhaps. Or maybe I'm just happy not to be worrying about you so much,” I suggested. He laughed again.
“I have been a worry to you, I know. I am sorry, Lena. I have been confused, these past weeks; you know most of why. But I woke this morning with a clarity of thought that has been sadly lacking, and now I find myself calm again.”
“I am glad,” I said. “You have told Eryl we will stay?”
“Until midsummer, not beyond.”
I was glad. Glad that he was happy again, glad that he had seen sense about staying. And glad we would be alone again together, in a few weeks.
We spent the next day checking the snares, and reorganizing Cillian's pack. We kept most of our belongings in our packs, as they could be hung from the rafters, limiting the damage mice and damp could do to our clothes and books and other items. Cillian did not want to take his books on the hunt, so we moved them to my pack, along with a few other small things.
The warm wind continued to blow; the snow was melting quickly. Already patches of mud showed on the south-facing slopes, and the village area was a morass of rivulets and wet, slushy snow. I washed some clothes, draping them over ropes outside, securing them with split willow pegs. Late in the afternoon, I heated more water to bathe.
Then I sat in the last of the afternoon sun to dry my hair, while Cillian bathed and trimmed his beard down to almost nothing. He stood in the door of the hut, shirtless, looking out at me. I smiled up at him. I had moved from shock to acceptance to joy in the last two days. I had thought myself incapable of love again, and whatever came of it, my secret bubbled inside me like a hot spring, warming all around it.
“Is your hair dry?” he asked.
“Mostly. Yours isn't, though. Come and sit in the sun.”
He came to sit beside me. All around the village, men and women were finding reasons to be outside, in light tunics, or like Cillian, shirtless. He reached for my hand, twining his fingers around mine. “Eryl thinks we should go to the midsummer meeting with the village,” he said, “and then start east from the meeting place.”
“He is sure there will be a vēsturni who will join this village?”
“Yes. I think he even knows who, but he hasn't told me. Until then, I will continue to teach him the stories.” He traced circles on my palm with one finger.
“You are being very distracting,” I murmured.
“I intend to be.” The slow smile I hadn't seen for weeks spread over his face. I didn't see vulnerability this time, just happiness. “Shall we go in?”
The banked fire glowed. We did not go to the bed but to the furs beside the fire. “I do prefer to see you,” Cillian said. For the first time, we made love in the open, the warmth of the room just enough to allow it. Afterwards, Cillian spoke first, one hand stroking my bare skin, tracing a line from neck to hip. “Thà mi beànnaicht,” he whispered.
“Translate?” I murmured.
“I am blessed.”
Much later, we made love again, quiet, gentle love, with sleep following quickly. The last thing I knew were his lips on my hair, and a barely audible whisper. “Käresta,” I thought he said, but I was too nearly asleep to ask what it meant. I liked the sound, though. I love you, I whispered back, silently.
With half the men gone to kill geese, I guarded the sheep every night. Lambing continued, and so guarding day and night was necessary. The warm wind no longer blew and the work was both cold and tedious, although the men who did the second shift had it worse in the bitterest part of the night.
On my first shift, I saw nothing more than a fox, darting in among the sheep to snatch at afterbirth. I couldn't get a clear shot at it, but one of the men did. Its presence had disturbed the sheep and they milled around, baa-ing, for some time. Even an hour later, they still seemed restless. Most of the village dogs had gone with the hunting party; only Audo's, and the two sheepdogs, remained.
At the end of my shift, I walked back tiredly to our hut. I didn't want t
o disturb Kaisa and Aetyl, and to be truthful I too was glad of some solitude. I would be warm enough, under the furs, alone. I fed a few logs to the fire, falling quickly into a heavy sleep.
Barking dogs woke me. I pulled on boots and outdoor clothes, found the bow, and ran up the hillside towards the sheep pens. An hour or so before dawn, I estimated, as I ran.
“What happened?” I said to the first man I reached.
“Wolf,” he said. “Will you stay? I will try to track it, if you can.”
He came back in the early light. “A pack,” he told us. “We will need guards, all day and all night, double strength. And two guards on the women when they gather firewood, again. I will tell Ludis.”
“I should have guarded the women getting water, this morning,” I said.
“Go, then,” he said. His name was Benis, I remembered. “They should have waited. They would have heard the dogs, too, and known something was amiss. Take one of the boys, as the second guard.”
The snare lines went unchecked. I guarded the women getting water, and then getting firewood. I did another shift on the sheep in the afternoon, ate with Kaisa and Aetyl, and returned to the sheepfold after dark. Both sheep and dogs were uneasy, to my eyes.
Near the end of my shift the dogs exploded into a cacophony of barking, hackles raised. “Stay,” Benis told me. “Some may circle around.” I stared into the night, looking for movement. The moon was waxing; it lacked a few days to full, but it gave fair light. A shout from one of the men on the upper side of the sheepfold, and a grey shape slipped across my vision. I raised my bow, arrow nocked. Movement, again. I let the arrow fly. A yelp, and a snarl, and then another yelp, and silence.
My arrow had not killed the wolf; that honour belonged to one of the men. But mine had injured it, made it turn, perhaps, allowing the second arrow to find a fatal mark. The next morning, I examined the body. I'd never seen a wolf before. It was almost as long as I was tall, and I estimated its shoulder would have reached nearly to my hip. The dense, brindle fur felt soft under my hand. It was the teeth that made me shudder, remembering the damage to Audo's leg.
Any celebration of its killing would need to wait. The rest of the pack might move away with one of their number dead, or they might not, Benis told me. Once Eryl had returned, another organized hunt for the pack could happen, but right now there just weren't enough men.
The warm wind began to blow again that afternoon, making the first watch that night not as unpleasant. A heavy cloud bank hung over the mountains, but it appeared to be stationary; I hoped it did not presage more snow. The wind made listening difficult, and every movement of branch or shrub caught my eye. By the time my watch ended, I was tired, and my shoulders and neck ached with tension. I found myself longing for Tirvan's baths as I walked slowly back to our hut.
I heard movement behind me just a heartbeat before someone grabbed me, one hand over my mouth. “Mine now, devanī,” a voice said. Ivor. I twisted, knife in hand, but with his other hand he pushed my arm down, gripping my wrist. I brought a knee up, hard, missing his groin but unbalancing him, forcing him to take a slight step back, but his grip did not loosen. He began to wrench my knife hand around. He was very strong, and I was unpracticed and soft from the winter. My eyes flickered back and forth, searching. I tried to bite him. He laughed, pushing me down onto the cold ground. I dropped the knife. He was heavy, one leg between mine, shoving it up against me, his free hand working at the drawstring of his breeches. He freed his sex, hard against my leg, and with one hand pulled my leggings down my thighs. He thrust at me, pushing hard, forcing entry. I tried to gasp at the pain, but one hand—his left—held my arms. The other was across my mouth. A left-handed archer. I jerked my head, bit his hand. He let go of my arms to slap me over the face. I tasted blood. He brought his mouth down to lick it off, laughing. But my arms were free. I couldn't find the knife, though. I reached out. My fingers found the rock I had seen. I hit him and hit him and hit him, until blood matted his hair and he lay unconscious, or dead.
I pushed him off me and pulled myself to my knees. Moonlight showed me the knife; I picked it up, hands shaking so much I could barely sheath it. Make sure he's dead, my mind told me, but I could not. I pulled up my leggings, found my feet, and in a stumbling run reached the door of my hut.
I forced myself to stand still. No sounds came from outside. I took a deep breath, and another, leaning against the knife-scarred post. I had to keep moving. I found the water bucket, filled waterskins, washed myself. I took my bird bow and quiver from below the bed, gathered some food. Everything else was in my pack. I had to go.
Chapter Five
The waxing moon rode high. I would have preferred a darker sky, but I had no choice. I moved less lightly than I liked, carrying my pack. A gusty breeze came down off the mountainside, carrying sound and scent away from the village: a blessing. I wanted to run, but I forced myself to keep to a rapid walk, using the foot roll that Tice had taught me, making my movement nearly silent. The path led along the river, past the pool where we swam and washed clothes, heading downhill. I reached the rapids, identified as much by sound as by the glint of splashing water in the starlight. I stopped. Beyond this, everything was new.
When would I be missed? At dawn, or soon after, I judged: earlier, if Ivor regained consciousness before then. If he was alive. Until daybreak, I would continue eastward on the path. Once there was enough light to see, I would climb back up into the hills, and hope to find a safe spot to hide. I would be pursued, I knew.
The rapids splashed and gurgled, obscuring sound. The moon had gone beyond the western mountains and the night was very dark. I needed to move more slowly now. I allowed myself a small sip of water, and continued on.
In the first glimmers of dawn I stopped again. Ahead of me I could hear the rush and roar of the waterfall, and to my left the cliffs mantled over me, blocking the eastern light. I put the pack down to find food, bread and one piece of cold meat. Chewing, I looked around me as the day brightened. The river ran wide but fast between shallow banks, edged with scrubby trees. Birds greeted each other and the sun, soft chips becoming morning song. I finished the food and stepped off the path to relieve myself, wincing when the urine stung.
Leaving the pack, I approached the riverbank. Holding firmly to a tree I allowed my feet to slip down the bank. I fell harder than I had planned onto my side, a foot dipping into the water. Pain flared in my hip. I dragged myself up and onto the path, biting my lip. I cut a ragged bit from the arm of my tunic and snagged it on an overhanging branch where I might have reached for balance. Did it look as if I fell in? Would anyone believe I had gone for water without putting my pack down first?
I turned to the cliffs, studying them, looking for a way up. The face in front of me was still dark, angled away from the rising sun, but the trail and the cliffs curved northward a short distance ahead. I shouldered the pack and moved forward, limping a little.
The hip pain eased as I walked. I followed the curve of the trail, and suddenly beneath me was a wide plain stretching out eastward towards the rising sun. On my right the river thundered over the edge of the scarp, spray glittering, soaking the path ahead where it began to snake down the steep drop; on my left, the cliff edge rose in broken columns skyward.
If my pursuers don't believe I fell trying to get water, I thought, then maybe they'll believe I slipped on the wet path and fell into the chasm. I looked up at the cliff face, away from the dazzle of the low sun. The blocks of rock, interspersed with channels of gravel and dotted with scrubby evergreens and grasses, looked impossible to climb. But slowly, as I moved a bit further along the path, I began to see a possible route.
For running men in daylight, I was no more than a couple of hours from the village. I could not take the time to search for a better way up. I balanced and tightened the pack on my back and turned to the cliff face, reaching up to find a handhold.
My left foot slipped once, and I when I tested the gravelly soil in the fiss
ures it was unstable, as were the gnarled trees anchored in it. But of more concern was the lack of strength in my hands and arms. Without the demands of fishing or of the work at the Wall, where I had been as likely to be assigned to dig drains as to watch duty, I simply wasn't as strong. The wrist Ivor had wrenched ached. I needed, I realized, to be able to push myself up with my legs, like climbing a staircase, whenever possible.
I had to spend more time studying the choices, making less progress than I liked. I used my hands for balance, stepping from one small ledge to another, hugging the rock. I stopped to regain my breath, clinging to the cliff-face with one hand, looking upward at the choices ahead of me. On one higher ledge droppings from the gemzē, the goat-deer, lay scattered on the rock. We had followed gemzē paths before, crossing the Durrains: I should be able to follow this one.
Once I learned to find the signs, the choices the deer had made, I moved more quickly. The gemzē were more agile than I, and more than once I needed to use my arms to help me from one ledge to another, feeling the burn of muscle in my shoulders and ignoring the wrenched wrist. My legs began to ache. I stopped to rest, and suddenly I wondered if climbing back down the cliff was going to be possible. I almost looked down. Four ledges to go…then three…two more upward thrusts of my body and I was rolling onto the grass and gravel of the clifftop.
I heard the barking of dogs below me, still some distance away. I lay panting, aching from fingertip to toes. My hands stung in the cold air and my throat felt parched. I heard human voices below me now, as well as the dogs. I crawled behind a low bush, flattening myself against the ground.
In the still morning air I heard a voice. “Any sign, Karel?”
I did not hear a reply. If I moved my head slightly I could see the trail, not directly below me, but both the way I had come and the sinuous descent down the scarp. The men—or rather Karel and a boy—moved into my line of sight. Karel knelt, peering down the chasm. I saw him shake his head, straighten, look up. I didn't move. The sheepdogs milled about his feet. Karel moved towards the cliff face, disappearing from my view for a moment, then reappeared, looking upward.
Empire's Legacy- The Complete Trilogy Page 73
