'Your grandfather should be back with some eggs soon," Lucenda said. "I've got some ham from that shoulder Dercy brought, and I'll fry that up with some egg toast."
'I am hungry, still." Did using Talent take that much energy? He'd fallen asleep when he'd tried to save Lamb, and all he'd done then was persuade the little ram to take a bottle.
It didn't seem long before Royalt returned. "Not so many eggs as usual, but enough."
'The stove is heating up. The coals hadn't burned down, not really… You'd started it up for tea last night."
Alucius watched as his mother made the egg toast. He found his mouth watering, and he wasn't exactly surprised to find himself eating three pieces, and two large chunks of ham—and then another piece of egg toast. Both his mother and grandfather ate as well.
'Alucius…" Royalt said gently, after finishing his own breakfast. "Your grandma'am is much better. She might even be as strong as she once was. We won't know that for a time, though." He paused. "Last night… can you remember what you did?"
Alucius took another swallow of the berry juice, trying not to feel guilty about drinking two glasses of it. It did taste so good, and he'd been so hungry and thirsty. "I woke up, and I thought I'd been stabbed. I hadn't been. Then I heard voices. Grandma'am was saying something hurt so much, and you said you'd be getting her tea and aspabark. You don't give that unless it really hurts. So I climbed down the ladder and sneaked into your room." Alucius moistened his lips. "I know I wasn't supposed to, but… she hurt so much… I just held her ankle, and I wanted the pain and everything that caused it to go away. Forever. Everything felt white, and then black." Alucius shrugged. "Then I woke up on the couch, and Mother was crying and hugging me."
'I was worried," Lucenda explained.
Royalt nodded, then tilted his head to the side, fingering his stubbly chin for a time before speaking. "You have more of the Talent than I do, or than your father did. If anyone knew how to train you, you might even have become a healer."
'A healer? There are healers?"
'No. Leastwise, we don't know of any." Royalt coughed. "That's not a blessing."
Alucius felt confused. Being able to heal someone wasn't a blessing?
Royalt looked directly at Alucius, his gray-green eyes intent. "You must remember one thing. Until you are a full herder, with a family of your own, you are not to tell anyone outside the family that you can do this. Not your friends, not any girl you love, not anyone."
Alucius swallowed at the total seriousness in his grandsire's voice, and the iron resolve behind the hard words. "Is what I did that bad?"
'It is not bad at all, Alucius. It is dangerous. You felt very weak. Your mother worried about you all night. What would happen if, say, the Council of the Iron Valleys knew? What if they threatened to kill your mother if you did not heal a wealthy trader? Or if the Lord-Protector of Lanachrona sent his men to kidnap you? What if he threatened to kill us if you did not heal his son? Or, even if he rewarded you, would you like to spend the rest of your life in a palace tower, guarded day and night because you were so valuable? Unable to walk anywhere without guards? Unable to see a sunset alone? Unable to walk the stead with Lamb?"
Alucius swallowed a second time. Those were things he'd never considered. All he'd wanted was to help his grandma'am.
'If… if you keep your secret to yourself," his grandfather continued, "you can do whatever you are meant to do. If you do not, then your life will be short, and someone else will tell you what to do every day that you live. Whenever you want to tell someone beside the three of us… think about that. Do you want to live your life, or have a life where every step is commanded by someone else? Where people surround you every moment, watching you?"
Alucius shivered.
'You're scaring him," Lucenda said.
'I have to. He looks more like a herder than any in generations. It's his life, and he must understand." Royalt went on. "Talent is not like a powerful explosion. It is not a force that can stop a falling boulder or bend metal. It grows like the quarasote, slowly. It underlies everything, and is everywhere, but few indeed can even sense it. Even when they do, fewer still can use it. Yet people would believe you could, and failing to do what people wish makes them angry."
'I understand," Alucius said slowly. "Even… even if herders kept it to themselves, someone would always want me to heal a lamb or someone in their family. And if I didn't… they might tell, or be angry, because they'd know?"
'That's one reason why herders never tell those outside their families about Talent and herding—even other herders," his grandfather said.
'It will be hard enough, Alucius, even keeping it to yourself. If you can indeed heal others, you will always have to measure, to choose who you can heal, and how much. And never tell anyone. It must always seem like the person just got better. And that, too, will be difficult, because we all want others to know our value."
His mother's eyes were bright, and Alucius looked from one to the other.
Finally, he said, "We can tell Grandma'am, can't we?"
'She already knows," Royalt said gently.
'I have you three I can talk to."
'For now, Alucius, and for years to come," Lucenda promised.
But Alucius could sense the sadness that went with her joy and pride.
Micron, Madrien
The Matrial sat on the south side of the circular ebony conference table, with the wide glass windows behind her. The deep violet of her tunic almost seemed to match her eyes, and the green emerald choker around her neck shimmered against her flawless alabaster skin as she listened to the officer who sat on the far side of the table.
'In the past year, we have only found two more with enough Talent to be trained," reported the gray-haired overcaptain. "We are stretched thin in maintaining the discipline for the torques."
'Do we need more public demonstrations?"
'Not yet, honored Matrial, but we may need them in the future."
'What about lamaials?"
'Again, we have found no male children with Talent in the last year. That may be because their fathers have hidden them or spirited them away, but outside of the herders of the Iron Valleys, Talent is usually far rarer in males. And, as you know, Talent in males does not mean they will grow up to be lamaials. There have been no reports of one in nearly twenty years."
'That does not mean that there have not been such," the Matrial pointed out. "That is their danger. They can appear to be men like other men."
'Matrial… even among the herders of the Iron Valleys, even among those with the black-gray hair, Talent is rare indeed. We have tested many as captive troopers over the years, and watched them for years, and…"
'You are doubtless correct, Overcaptain Haeragn, but we must be most careful, because, as the ancient lines declare,
Then too, the lamaial will rise, but once, Where none yet will suspect, nor think to dare, and his hidden strokes may kill aborning, Duality of promise bright and fair…"
'We have been most careful," replied the overcaptain, her voice even but firm, "as you have instructed, but the herder captives also make the best squad leaders, and the ones most effective against the Lord-Protector's Southern Guard."
For a moment, the even smile vanished from the face of the Matrial. "It is sad to think that the traits we must control within Madrien are those which are also the most effective at retaining our prosperity and freedom, but ever has it been so." The smile returned, not quite hiding the darkness behind the violet eyes. "What about the women and girls who have fled from Southgate after the recent floggings? Are there more of them with Talent?"
'We have never seen any from Southgate with Talent, but that is because for generations, the Seltyrs drowned any woman-child who manifested Talent." An expression of revulsion briefly flashed across Overcaptain Haeragn's face.
'What about the Lanachronan captive troopers?"
'We have never found any with Talent, and we have far more of them
than of those from the Iron Valleys. It is most surprising that the Lord-Protector even has a Recorder of Deeds."
'He does, unfortunately," the Matrial replied before rising to signify the end of the meeting. "We will deal with that. You will let me know if you feel the need of public demonstrations?"
'Yes, Matrial." Overcaptain Haeragn rose and bowed.
Alucius woke slowly, the bright spring light stabbing through the cracks in the shutters at his eyes. He lay on the narrow pallet bed in the loft for several moments, listening to the sounds drifting up the ladder, half wondering why he had been dreaming about climbing the Aerial Plateau. The clanking of the iron skillet on the stove stopped that speculation and told him that he had overslept—and that his mother was irritated.
He sat up, sliding the light-torch and the book into the bottom drawer of his chest. He groped for his work trousers. After pulling on his work shirt and trousers and his boots, he straightened the quilt on the pallet bed and then scurried down the ladder to the washroom. After quickly washing, he headed to the kitchen. "Can I help with something?"
'Just sit down and eat." Lucenda's voice was clipped.
Alucius repressed a sigh. He shouldn't have read so late, but there was so little time, and he wanted to read more than just the lessons sent from the school. He might not have read so much had his friend Vardial lived closer, but with more than fifteen vingts between steads, they seldom saw each other. "I'm sorry."
Lucenda dropped four overfried eggs on his platter, followed by dry toast, and a slab of hot and dry ham, and then two slices of honeyed prickle. "You're a growing boy, Alucius, and I'd not be wanting to treat you as a child." His mother paused. "The sun has been up for near-on a glass. Your grandfather left with the flock two glasses ago, and here you are, just out of bed. Your grandma'am needs help with the carding, and I need to get to cleaning the spinnerets."
'I'm sorry, ma'am. I was tired." Alucius didn't meet her eyes.
'I can imagine so, staying up so late reading those old stories. You are becoming a young man, and must act as such."
Alucius flushed. People kept saying that, but long as it had been since he had first played leschec with his grandsire… time went by so slowly, and he wondered if he would ever grow up.
'There's nothing wrong with reading, son, but you can't let it get you so tired that others have to do your work."
'I'm sorry." He looked down at the platter heaped with eggs, and with the ham slice and toast to the side, and the honeyed prickle slices. Even overdone, most of the breakfast was good, but he hated eating the prickle slices.
'Don't leave the prickle. You want to grow stronger, you have to have vegetables and fruits, and this time of year prickle's all we've got. I mean it, Alucius." Lucenda turned back to the sink where she wiped out the cast iron frying pan and then dunked it into the soapy water.
'Yes, ma'am." Alucius understood, but didn't like it. Southern fruits cost golds and then some out of season. He took his belt knife and cut the largest prickle slice in half, slid it into his mouth, and swallowed convulsively. He took a gulp of the cold spring water, trying not to grimace. Then he had a bite of the eggs, and drizzled the honey syrup over the dry toast before taking a bite. He repeated the sequence three times more, until he had finished the prickle. He still had half the eggs and toast left that he could enjoy.
'The prickle's not that bad, Alucius."
'Yes, ma'am." He wasn't about to argue. To him, it tasted like soap mixed with sand and flavored with soured milk. "The eggs are good. So is the toast and the ham."
He ate quickly, then washed his own platter, and cleaned the sink, and scoured and oiled the frying pan. Then he went back to the washroom and washed his hands and face.
He went out onto the porch, stretching, and looking eastward, out toward the plateau that loomed over the valley, wondering how far out his grandfather had gone with the flock. A flicker of reddish brown at the base of one of the nearer quarasote plants told him that a scrat had made a nest there. Scrats could mean trouble, because the cute little rodents got into everything. And having cats was out of the question, because the nightsheep killed cats.
'Your grandma'am's waiting, Alucius," his mother called from the stable door.
'Yes, ma'am." Alucius squared his shoulders and walked quickly across the open ground, and past the stable to the processing barn, where he opened the door cautiously. The odor of the solvent from the tanks in the front room almost gagged him, and he hurried down the corridor. He paused and looked into the cutting room where the huge shears glittered in the indirect light. It always amazed him that something as thin as nightsilk could only be cut so slowly and by such massive shears, even though his grandsire had explained time and again why the treated threads became harder than iron against mild pressure and harder than that against sudden violent pressure. He caught himself and hurried to the third door.
'I wondered when you'd struggle up," his grandmother offered pleasantly, from where she sat at the first carding table.
'I'm sorry." All Alucius had done since he'd gotten up was to apologize. "I overslept."
Veryl laughed. "That's the way your mother does things. Me and Royalt, we'd just wake you and tell you to get to work. That's what we did with her. She didn't like it. So she lets you sleep, and then makes you feel guilty all day." The laugh and smile vanished. "Sit down. I had to go over what you did yesterday. I want you to look at the difference between the wools here…"
Alucius sat down and bent forward, dreading the next words.
'See the fine strands here… those are the undercoat, from a ewe's." She put another set of fibers beside the first. You see how those are thicker? It's undercoat, but it's from a ram. Now… here is the overcoat from a ram. What do you see?"
'It's much coarser and thicker," Alucius admitted.
'I don't know what you were thinking yesterday. You had all these in one batch, and you never separated them. You have to separate the undercoat from the overcoat, all of it, Alucius."
'Yes, ma'am." Alucius held the groan inside. Carding was so tedious.
'The solvent affects the wools differently. If you leave the undercoat threads in the tanks as long as the outer coat of the rams, then the undercoat is weaker than cotton thread. If you have overcoat threads in with the undercoats, then you get sharp fragments that can cut the cloth. So if the wool isn't carded and spun correctly, the thread is worthless. All the work that your grandsire and you do with the flock is wasted…"
Alucius had thought oversleeping had been bad, but it looked like it was going to be one of those days when he found out that nothing he'd done had been right, and it was only just past the second glass of the morning.
The wagon rolled northward on the eternastone road under an afternoon harvest sun. A light breeze carried the faintly astringent mintlike scent of quarasote. Alucius sat in the second seat, the one that he'd bolted in place in the morning. His mother sat beside him, while his grandparents sat in the front seat, where his grandsire guided the team.
'I'm glad you decided that you'd come to this with us," Lucenda said to her father.
'Not as though you left me much choice," grumbled Royalt. "Wouldn't get much besides a cold shoulder to eat, no help with anything."
'Dear, it's not as though Kustyl has a gather every week," Veryl pointed out.
'No… but now we'll have to give one sometime next year."
'That won't destroy us. Besides, Lucenda and Alucius need to see other folk more often."
Alucius squirmed in the seat, then looked at his mother. Lucenda grinned, then bent over and whispered in her son's ear, "He just likes to complain. He'll enjoy it as much as any of us."
'I don't complain, daughter. Much good it would do to sulk and waste good ale. Besides, you'd be put out if we didn't go, and when you get put off, you cut like quarasote."
Alucius didn't always understand the by-play. He knew his grandfather could hear a quarasote spine rustle a vingt away, and he knew
his mother knew that. And he knew that his grandfather knew that his mother knew. So, instead of trying to puzzle it out, he looked to his right, at the great plateau, where, under a cloudless silver-green sky, some of the quartz outcroppings at the rim were sparkling, reflecting the sunlight with a green-tinged silver.
'It'll do you good to see other herders, Royalt," Veryl continued. "You can all complain together, and then you'll feel better. You always do."
Royalt laughed, and half turned in the seat to address Alucius. "Never argue with a woman, boy. If you're right, and you won't be often, they'll never forgive it, and if you're wrong, they'll never forget it."
'Royalt," snorted Veryl, "don't be giving the boy ideas."
'I don't have to give him ideas. He's got more than enough of his own. Needs to understand something about women, though."
Veryl turned in her seat to face her daughter and raised one eyebrow.
Lucenda grinned for a moment.
After more than a glass on the ancient eternastone highroad, Royalt turned off onto a lane heading west, a much rougher ride, one that took nearly a half-glass to travel a vingt, until they neared a stead, similar to the one where Alucius lived. Although there was no ridge like Westridge near the stead, the rolling quarasote plains were much the same, treeless and with the red sandy soil. The main house was longer, and lower, without an upper level or loft rooms, and the eaves were longer and hung out over a wide covered porch that ran around the entire dwelling. But the walls were of the same reddish stone and the roof the same split slate. The stone-walled outbuildings seemed lower than the ones at his own stead, but there were more of them.
As the wagon slowed, a grayjay squawked from one of the posts by a lambing pen, and then took flight. Alucius watched the blue and gray scavenger until it landed on the ridge of the stead house's slate roof, clearly waiting for any scraps that might come from the gather.
'Over here, Royalt!" called a thin and wiry man, one who definitely made Royalt seem stocky, even though the older herder was not.
Legacies Page 4
