Groups of firefighters stumbled in, dragging picks and mattocks. Two men leaned their axes carefully against the courtyard wall with a sigh that could be heard at the other side.
Four of the Comhi-Letzii claimed one corner for their own. Melisendra was both glad and worried to see them: glad because they had the reputation of being some of the best, and worried that help was needed from outside the linked clans of the Five Valleys.
Melisendra dodged again around a group of three men as she tried to get to the trestle tables with her pitcher and cups. Two other ladies of the castle had come to help, though Damisela Stephanie didn’t look as though she liked it much. Melisendra felt she’d fetch and carry willingly for anyone who’d helped to surround the latest fire before it reached the village. The stone huts wouldn’t burn, but the livestock pens and the gardens surely would.
She turned to the trio she’d just dodged. “Is the fire out?”
One rasped out a laugh. “Would we be here if it wasn’t?”
The other snapped, “Fool, be nice to the lady with the drinks.” He smiled at her. “It’s under control, damisela.”
Which was not, she noted, the same as “out.”
Thunder rumbled in the distance. The whole courtyard fell quiet as people listened hopefully. Melisendra’s temples throbbed in time with the thunder.
Young Dom Stefan flung himself down onto a bench and grabbed a flagon of watered wine. “It’s hitting all around us,” he said when he’d downed half of it. “Why can’t we get any rain?” His eyes shone green in a face masked with dust and smoke.
Green as grass, or as grass had been back in the spring. Even the brush by the creek now looked more gray than green. The forested mountainsides looked like a cloak nibbled by moths. So far, they’d managed to keep the fires from spreading, but most of the men in the courtyard looked exhausted. That one there just sat, head in his hands.
She took a chunk of barley bread, spread it with soft cheese from a pot, and handed it to him. “Here, eat a little before you sleep,” she said to him. Obediently, he took a bite and chewed. When she looked back, he was slumped over the table, snoring.
A short while later, kitchen workers began dismantling the trestle tables to make room for pallets for firefighters from other villages. Domna Adrianna shooed all three of her young ladies upstairs.
In the solar, it was still quite light enough for plain sewing. Melisendra’s needle flashed in and out of a skirt length of smooth, dark green wool. The chatter in the room faded into the background.
She could sense rain on the wind, together with the metallic scent of lightning. If only she could sort out the one from the other, like sorting out tangled embroidery floss! The lightning flashed bright as her needle among the gray lines of rain that fell to the east.
Why not give the storm just a little push? Just this once. It would give the firefighters a chance to sleep for more than a few hours. They must have that soon. No man could go forever on only a few hours’ rest, nor any woman either.
Just a little nudge... Should it be push, or pull? It would be such a relief to stretch her awareness out, like a muscle cramped from long inactivity.
No. She had promised the old leronis who tested her that she wouldn’t be lured into using this poisoned gift. “It’s dangerous as the flower-drug,” the leronis had warned. “You start out thinking that one little time won’t do any harm. It will.”
But Melisendra still felt the pattern of the storm. It was trying to come over the ridge as if it were a person with conscious desires. What was stopping it? If she could move that, change that, then maybe she could bring the rain without breaking her promise. She clutched her starstone through her undertunic and the stone’s silken bag and strained to sense the nature of the barrier. Something shivered in her mind.
No. I will mind my work, and keep away from this. She clenched her jaw hard. Winds soared upwards in the next valley.
In the room, Carla coughed again. A chorus of coughs followed. The constant dust and smoke were plaguing everyone.
I dare not.
The scent of rain came in, carried over the metallic tang that meant lightning. Surely, with it already so close–
A dagger of lightning struck blindingly close to the castle. Thunder boomed.
Women shrieked. Serafina ran and tried to hide under one of the little tables that held sewing supplies. She crouched there, sobbing. Outside, men shouted words scattered by the wind. Wind carrying ash and dust rushed through the windows.
“The shutters!” Could anyone hear her? She could barely hear herself. Melisendra forced her way to the window and began hauling one shutter closed against the force of the wind.
Below her, she could see that one section of the outer wall had collapsed. Melisendra didn’t envy the men the task of getting that repaired. But there’s no fire. And no rain, either.
Domna Adrianna joined her, and between the two of them they wrestled first one and then the other shutter closed and latched.
“Damiselas! Close the rest,” Adrianna commanded. Only the bride-to-be managed to pull herself together enough to assist with the second window. The remaining two windows, being on the side away from the wind, were easier.
In near-darkness, they groped their way over scattered chairs to the center of the room. The branch of candles had fallen off the central table in the confusion, but she managed to find it. Domna Adrianna fished flint and a tiny bit of steel from her housewife’s pocket and managed to coax a small spark; the crying woman went into hysterics.
“Hush, now, it’s only a bit of light so that we can see our way,” she said. Then, “Here. Hold this.” She handed the candle to Melisendra, strode over to Serafina, and hauled her upright. “Stop that.” She spoke calmly, almost too softly for Melisendra to hear her, but the shrieks died away into hiccuping sobs, and then quiet.
Two more stones thudded to the ground outside.
That went well, didn’t it? Evanda and Avarra, I was only thinking about doing anything, just daydreaming.
No one must know.
The storm outside rumbled away, drifting east and north. The storm in her thoughts stayed with her. I didn’t do anything! I kept my promise! But had she? Was just longing to move the storm as dangerous as actually doing it?
In that case, why not try it?
Oh, nonsense–and dangerous nonsense at that. It was a warning, not permission. Melisendra forced her attention back to the tasks of cleaning up and storing things away. At least the delicate embroideries had been safely stowed away earlier! The long, dark green skirt would be fine with just a little brushing. But where was her needle? She shook the skirt out again, more vigorously. No needle.
Domna Adrianna was staring at her, one sandy eyebrow raised. In order to do the delicate knots that made up the flowers, Melisendra had been trusted with one of the few metal needles. She’d kept on using it for the plain work, liking its smooth slide better than the best polished bone.
She crouched beside her chair, groping under it, and winced as she found the needle the hard way. “Ah, here it is.” Melisendra held it up. Her hand trembled.
“Well, that’s something to be thankful for! But chiya, you’re quite pale! Let’s leave the rest for tomorrow. We’re losing the light, and we’re all weary.” The solar emptied quickly.
Domna Adrianna drew Melisendra aside. “My dear, a moment’s word, if I may.”
“Of course, domna. I would value your wisdom.” Melisendra could just picture herself saying anything else.
“You mean no harm, I’m certain, and I doubt that anyone save I has noticed it yet.”
Now Melisendra was truly puzzled.
“Ah, yes, I thought so! You don’t even know what I’m talking about, do you, chiya?”
Well, maybe from Adrianna’s viewpoint, a woman of 19 looked like a child. “Forgive me, domna, but I don’t.”
“That’s to your credit.” Adrianna paused to clear her throat. “This constant smoke! How I wis
h–but never mind that. My dear, I saw you looking at Dom Stefan today in the courtyard.”
Now it became more clear. Melisendra restricted herself to a respectful nod.
“And well, my dear, I was young once!”
No doubt. She could hardly have sprung into being gray-haired and gaunt.
“He is a handsome lad, but he isn’t for you. Not that you wouldn’t honor any man with your grace and talents—”
Oh, this was not to be borne. “But the heir to Caer Anailh must make a higher match than one of the sewing-women? Thank you for your wisdom, domna, but I know that. And truly, I do not aim so high.” Nor did she. In fact, she took good care not to be alone with the young lord. There were rumors, and she had her reputation to think of.
There came a touch to her arm, feather-light. “Damisela Melisendra, I knew your mother. I speak to you now as she might have spoken, had she been here.”
“She is not dead, domna, only living in Caer Donn with her second husband.” Melisendra saw the older woman flinch. “Who is a kind and clever man, even if not of the Comyn.”
“I offer no insult!”
“Nor do I wish to take what is not offered.” Melisendra said. “I didn’t mean to offend, either, domna. As you said, we are all tired.”
It took no great gift to see the question in Adrianna’s eyes. People dreamed up such terrible things if she didn’t explain, that she’d long since worked out a short answer. “I was turned 16 when they met. That’s too old to acquire a stepfather, or at least it was for me. His ways and mine don’t agree well, but Mama seems happy, and I’m glad to have her so.”
“You’re a good daughter, Melisendra. And of course this way, there is some hope of a good marriage for you.”
She had to laugh. The woman never gave up. “Domna, are good marriages only among the Comyn?”
“For those born into it, yes. I mean no disparagement of your mother, but she did you no favors there.”
Melisendra decided that it was time to yawn very widely, and then apologize on her way to bed.
~o0o~
She woke the next day as every day, to the smell of smoke. On good days, it was distant. Some days it hung so heavy that it was hard to breathe. The healer and every assistant she could train went heavy-eyed among the old people and the babies, easing their struggles where they could. There had been two funerals last week, a baby who had scarcely breathed at all and Mestra Marja, who’d been assistant cook in the days of the old domna.
Melisendra slid out of her narrow bed under the window. She had it all to herself, another kindness to be grateful for! To be sure, it was drafty in the winter, but one mustn’t be picky.
She clambered up into the window embrasure and enjoyed the privilege of being the first one awake. How quiet it was!
First of the ladies, anyway. Below in the kitchen courtyard, someone was scolding. “No, no, no, Eliane! Evanda and Avarra, stop mooning about like a sheep in fuzzyweed and control those geese! They’ve eaten most of the bugs, and they’re digging up plants. That’s Mestre Daffyd’s own herb garden. “
The girl was sniffling quietly and holding her arm. “I can’t!”
“Yes, you can. I did at your age.”
A goose nip could sting, Melisendra knew. For pity’s sake, the child wasn’t much taller than some of the ganders! How was she supposed to control them?
“Here,” said the old woman. Melisendra leaned her head out the window to watch. An older woman took the willow switch from the girl and gently tapped the geese into a lumpy sort of line. “You have to get them under control, Eliane. Otherwise they rush around and bite people. Now they know that you know what to do, you’ll be fine. Take them over to the water now.”
She handed the switch back. Melisendra watched as the girl herded the geese off to wherever they were supposed to go. One made a dash off to the side, but the girl got it back in line.
Melisendra pulled her head back in. That’s what I need, she thought. Someone to tell me how to get my geese in line. Though I think it will take more than a willow switch.
She wished she could find someone. Her sense of the weather currents was getting harder to ignore, and the headaches were nearly constant. She’d had a little training as a girl; her laran had seemed too slight to need more.
Caer Anailh had no resident leronis. Pairs would come by from time to time to test youngsters, or if summoned in cases of bad threshold sickness. Domna Adrianna could deal with simple cases. Some of the great lords had leroni to help fight fires, but little lands like this one were left with mattock and axe and bucket brigade.
And a sewing-woman who could change the weather if she were brave enough. But I promised not to. Nor can I be released from my promise. The vai leronis died barely a year after she tested me. Poor, fretful old lady, I hope she has a calm existence now.
Melisendra sensed the storm brewing in the south as clearly as she could see the geese waddling through the archway. It roiled against the knife edge of the MacKenzie Ridge, looping back on itself, strands of air tangling as it struggled to rise higher. The back of her neck ached as though it might snap.
If the storm would just top that ridge, it could flow down into the valley and drown the fire. The clouds billowed higher, blood-red in the rising sun. Lightning flared within them.
Someone touched her shoulder. “Meli? Are you well?”
She turned to see Carla looking at her worriedly. Even now in late summer, Carla clutched a shawl around her shoulders in the morning air. How the girl was going to get through winter when it came, Melisendra had no idea.
“You were frowning so,” offered Carla. That was courteous, to let Melisendra know that she hadn’t been broadcasting thoughts. She’d learned in a hard school to keep them to herself, but Carla didn’t know that.
“Oh, sorry! I was thinking hard, and that makes me frown. I’m well. How are you this fine morning?”
Carla looked quickly back at the rest of the room. No one else had her eyes open yet. Softly, she asked, “Is this as warm as it ever gets?”
‘I’m afraid so. But cheer up, you’ll get used to it. Here, borrow a shawl for now and I’ll teach you to knit when we’ve time.” The girl had better get used to it. Dom Marcus had taken her in out of kindness and in memory of her parents, both cousins of his. What a long journey, from a holding that lay south almost to Dalereuth itself, for a girl so young! A cousin had escorted her, but even so, it meant leaving home and kin behind. The girl was tall enough to look older than her nine years, with fine red-gold hair and pale eyes. So far, she seemed unaware of how pretty she was.
~o0o~
The days wore on, and no rain fell. Lightning started twos and threes of small fires that had to be put out before they could join together. First all the men who were out helping neighboring lands were called home. Then any task that could be scanted, was, aside from the preparations for the wedding. It would be a modest feast.
The barley was just coming ripe. Whoever could be spared from firefighting was soon out scything it and carrying the scant stalks of grain into the stone drying barn. The walls were close-laid granite; its roof was made of finely split slate. No flame could touch grain stored there unless it managed to come in through the vents. Harvesting this early risked mold, but leaving it the fields risked losing it to fire.
It began to seem almost normal to have smoke in the air, and the rumble of thunder most afternoons. Melisendra began to spend as much time mending work clothes, and stitching new ones, as she did embroidering.
The next day two fires merged into a massive blaze. The coridom came to where they were all eating breakfast and began commandeering ladies who were young and fit enough to do courier duty. After frowning at Melisendra for a moment, he nodded at her.
“Not this one,” protested Domna Adrianna. “I need her for the embroidery on Damisela Felicia’s gown! The wedding’s in a week!” She gripped Melisendra’s sleeve.
“And I need anyone able to carry water to
the fire line, even undersized waiting-women. If that fire breaks through into the arroyo that leads to the fields, your young lady can whistle for her wedding feast. She won’t need a fancy gown if the whole valley’s burned.”
No, she wouldn’t. Melisendra gently pried her sleeve loose from Domna Adrianna’s grasp. “I think I’d better carry water, domna.”
“Indeed she should,” said a voice from behind them both. “I don’t wish to have anyone working on my dress today, Lady Aunt,” Felicia said. She added, with a laugh, “We can postpone the wedding a few days without disaster.”
Adrianna wailed, “Those clever hands, carrying buckets!”
“No worries,” said the coridom. “We’ll send her up with bladders of it in a pack. Buckets slosh too much. It’d be half dust and ash by the time she got there.”
“Give her a carry-belt of comfrey, too,” called a healer.
Climbing up the hill, Melisendra was glad to have her hands free. The newly-hacked path up to the fire was so steep in places that she needed to grab at the roots of trees to keep from sliding back down. She’d slide onto the hands of the next person in the line if she did. The pack straps sawed at her shoulders.
She reached up again, groping for some help.
A rough hand seized hers and helped her up onto a narrow ledge. “Here you are, then!” A young man with bright blue eyes and the blackest hair she’d ever seen smiled at her. “Good job!”
Melisendra repressed the urge to say, “Woof.” He was an interesting-looking man, and she’d seen too few smiles to discourage one now. His made the corners of his eyes crinkle.
He hoisted the pack to let her slide out of the straps and handed it on to a crop-haired woman. “Stefan’s line. Take a swig yourself.” The woman trotted off up the slope easily as a chervine.
They stood on the edge of old-growth forest. Two-man tents were squeezed into a tight line along one edge, led by an open-sided healers’ tent. Flames hadn’t reached the camp, but the heat and the sound of them had. Her skin prickled.
“Sit down and rest before you try to go back down,” the man who’d helped her said. “It’s more dangerous than coming up, believe it or not.” He waved at a folding stool no one was using just then, and turned back to help another person up over the edge.
Citadels of Darkover Page 18
