In Stone's Clasp

by Christie Golden

  “How long have they been watching us?”

  “For the last few hours, since dawn,” the Dragon replied, clearly unperturbed. “I pretended I was asleep.”

  “I feel like I’m on display,” Kevla murmured, turning her attention to the meal. She ate steadily, the unknown grains hot and filling and the tea easy to drink. When she had finished, a small boy rose from where he had been unabashedly watching her to take the utensils.

  “Thank you,” she said, smiling at him.

  He ducked his head. “You’re welcome,” he said in a voice so soft she could barely hear him.

  Kevla was not surprised to find everyone else in Gelsan’s house awake. The sleeping materials had been put away and everyone was silently finishing their bowls of grains. Kevla was greeted with smiles when she entered, but no words.

  “Thank you for the meal,” Kevla said.

  Gelsan stared. “You can speak our language!”

  “It seems as though I can,” Kevla said, understanding the words that rolled off her tongue although she knew it was not her native language. Perhaps this, too, was part of the gift of being a Dancer. “Gelsan, I must speak with you. In private.”

  Gelsan nodded, her eyes searching Kevla’s. “Help us clean up and we will talk.”

  Kevla obliged, gathering up the bowls and taking them outside to be scrubbed with snow. The young man who had rashly attacked her when she had first arrived—Olar, she believed his name was—lugged out the heavy cauldron. His long yellow hair was tied back in a ponytail and fell to the middle of his back. His young body strained with the effort of hauling the iron pot. Kevla now saw a resemblance between the three she hadn’t noticed before. When Olar went back inside, she said to Gelsan, “He’s your son.”

  “Yes. And grateful I am that you burned only his torch, not his flesh.”

  “You must forgive him,” Mylikki said, whispering lest her brother overhear. “He tries so hard to act like a man, but sometimes he doesn’t understand how. Ever since the men—”

  “Mylikki!”

  Mylikki drew herself up to her full diminutive height and gave her imposing mother stare for stare. “I told Kevla we would tell her,” she said. “She deserves to know.”

  “And I have much to share with you,” Kevla said. “You don’t yet know what is at stake. Why my task is so important.”

  “Few things are more important to me than the well-being of my village,” Gelsan said.

  “I understand. And I hope to help you.”

  Gelsan sighed. “Bring in the bowls.” They returned inside. Olar knelt on the floor, trying to get the wood to catch.

  “Olar, we need to be alone for a time,” Gelsan said.

  He nodded his head. “Yes, Mother. I will go with Ranin and get more wood from the forest.” He looked shyly at Kevla. “Will…will the Flame Dancer heat up the stones for the hut again today?”

  “Of course,” Kevla said. Olar’s young face brightened. She watched him go. “How old is he?” she asked.

  “Thirteen sum—” Mylikki caught herself and smiled without humor. “We count ages by summers, but as we have not had a summer for so long it seems silly to phrase it thus. Will you help with the fire, Kevla? Olar was not able to get it going.”

  “I’ll do better than that,” Kevla said. She thought about the room being warm, and it became so. “No need for the smoke.”

  Gelsan shook her head. “You taaskali are remarkable,” she said as she pulled up a stool. She reached for a large sack and withdrew two garments and a small box. Handing one dress to Mylikki, she said, “Mylikki and I’ve mending to do. We do not have the luxury to simply sit and talk.”

  Kevla nodded her understanding. The other two women fished out what looked like bone needles and sinew. For a moment Kevla watched the bone needles darting through the brightly colored fabric, and when at last she spoke, it was in a hushed voice.

  “Tell me about the men,” she asked.

  Gelsan inhaled swiftly. A bright spot of blood appeared on the garment. She sucked her finger for a moment. “Your words first, Fire Woman.”

  “I have told you who I am. I am Kevla-sha-Tahmu, and I am the Flame Dancer. The Dragon is my Companion. You have seen the sort of power I possess. I do not know the term taaskali, nor what it means, but I do know that while I am unique in my particular abilities, there are others who have similar ones.”

  Mylikki’s hands had stilled and she regarded Kevla with wide eyes. Gelsan kept her eyes on her work and her needle never slowed, but Kevla knew the headwoman was listening intently.

  “One such is the man I seek,” continued Kevla. “He is the Stone Dancer.”

  “What abilities does he have?” Mylikki’s expression had changed slightly.

  “I’m not sure. But his element is earth, as mine is fire. Whatever his abilities are, they would center around that.”

  Mylikki opened her flower-bud mouth to speak again, but Gelsan interrupted her. “Why do you seek him?”

  Kevla suddenly realized what the older woman was thinking—that perhaps Kevla and the Dragon had come to harm this man.

  “The Dragon and I need his help,” she replied.

  “For what?”

  Instead of replying directly, Kevla seemingly changed the subject. “Your song last night,” she said to Mylikki. “You said it is an old song. It’s a story about standing against a Shadow, a Shadow that will wipe out everything in the world as if it had never been.”

  Mylikki nodded. “Yes, that’s right.”

  “Were there any other verses? About a beggar boy, about a Dancer lying dead in the streets?”

  Mylikki’s blue eyes grew enormous. “Yes, there are,” she whispered. “The song has many verses and is almost always shortened for performing. Where did you hear them?”

  “I never heard that song until last night,” Kevla told her. “But I know the story behind it. I know because—because someone I knew lived that story in a life before this one. He was the beggar boy on the parapet, and I was the Dancer lying murdered in the streets.”

  She had their full attention now. They stared silently at her, mouths slightly open.

  “That man was called a Lorekeeper,” Kevla continued. “The Lorekeepers are the only ones who remember what has happened in the past. They find the Dancers and help them remember.”

  “Dancers?” Gelsan’s voice was sharp with disbelief, but Kevla noticed that she had stopped mending the garment.

  “That’s what we’re called,” Kevla said. “I’m not sure exactly why.” She took a deep breath and decided to reveal everything she knew.

  “I am the element of fire incarnate. The man I seek is earth. There are three others—water, air, and spirit. We five have lived four times before, fighting to protect the worlds into which we are born. We stand against the Shadow and somehow—I don’t yet know how—we try to hold it back. If we win, that world survives. If we fail, it is engulfed by the Shadow, erased as if it had never been. Twice we have won, twice lost. This is the final time—the final Dance. The fate of more than one world rests upon what we do here.”

  Gelsan made a dismissive noise, but when she spoke, her voice trembled. “Kevla, forgive my disrespect, but—this sounds more like a fantastical song that a huskaa would perform than anything close to fact.”

  “I didn’t believe it either, at first.” Kevla swallowed hard. “Someone I loved had to die before I fully understood what was happening.” It was the first time she had mentioned it to anyone since beginning her journey, and she felt the pain and guilt wash over her yet again. She fought it back.

  “So that is why I need to find this man. And also any in your village who might be Lorekeepers.”

  “How would we know such a thing?”

  “My people didn’t know about the Lorekeepers and the Dancers, either,” Kevla said. Her mind went back to the dreams she had had, of the Dragon repeatedly breathing sheets of flame upon her in an effort to force her to acknowledge her identity. To the dr
eams Jashemi had had, that he had been afraid to utter. “The truth kept trying to come through in dreams the Lorekeepers had. I think whoever wrote that song was a Lorekeeper. Has anyone here mentioned troubling dreams, or visions?”

  Gelsan, who had returned to her mending, grunted. “I don’t think anyone would openly speak of such things,” she said. Then, more gently, “But if it is important to you, I will ask.”

  “I have told you how important it is,” Kevla replied. “And now you know whom I seek and why.”

  Gelsan cleared her throat. “I do not know if this has anything to do with your—your quest. But I will tell you what has happened here. Mylikki is right—you should know.”

  Kevla waited, barely breathing.

  “I understand that Mylikki told you that winter has been visited upon us for over a year. We had stored enough supplies to take us through a normal winter, but quickly went through most of that. We have turned to relying almost exclusively on what we can hunt. And now even the animals are starving. The meat we thought you had come to steal—that and a few sacks of grain and dried vegetables are all we have left.

  “Our hunters ranged farther and farther afield in search of food, and just…didn’t come back. Others seemed to go mad, leaving to terrorize other villages, to kill and take what they wanted. Strange storms come out of nowhere, do terrible damage, and then disappear. Women in Lamal are not men’s servants, but there are clear divisions of duties. We have had to take on the responsibilities of the men in addition to our own. We have learned to hunt, to butcher meat, to cure hides for protection against this cold that will not depart.”

  Her eyes locked with Kevla’s. “This can be no natural winter. The spirits that live in the forests are silent. Dead or simply too afraid to show themselves, I do not know. We do not know if this is punishment for something we have done, or an evil spell by some powerful taaskal, or—” and she smiled, as if embarrassed to say so “—or if the Ice Maiden of the huskaa’s songs is real and is locking us in her winter. And into the midst of this you come, with your strange but welcome powers, and speaking of others like you and dreams and the end of worlds. We need your help, Kevla Flame Dancer. We need you to somehow bring back spring.”

  “I do not know if I can,” Kevla said, “but I will try.”

  She noted that Mylikki had grown quiet. The girl sat back in the chair, her arms folded, her eyes distant. “Mylikki? What is wrong?”

  “Tell me again all that you know of this Stone Dancer,” the girl replied, her voice thoughtful.

  “Not a great deal. I do not even know his name. He is…” Kevla closed her eyes and reached for the dream she had had. “He is tall, with yellow hair. Strong. His eyes are blue. There are laugh lines around his eyes, but now those eyes are hard with pain and anger. He…he has suffered much. At his feet is a huge cat with blue stripes. In my mind, they wait for me on a hill covered with snow.”

  She opened her eyes to find both Mylikki and Gelsan staring at her. Hope surged in Kevla.

  “Do you know him?” she cried.

  Dashing Kevla’s hopes, Mylikki shook her braided head. “No, I don’t,” she said. Suddenly she grinned. “But I think I know someone who does.”

  13

  “A few weeks ago, a huskaa came to our village,” Mylikki continued. “They wander from town to town singing songs and bringing news. They are greatly honored. He taught me that song you heard, as well as many others. His name is Altan Lukkari.”

  Mylikki turned bright red. She cleared her throat and continued. “He comes from a village far to the north. He described a man in his village that did not look like the taaskali, but who had powerful magic. He changed the seasons. They called him the Kevat-aanta—the Spring-Bringer.”

  “But…I thought the seasons changed on their own.”

  “They did, but according to Altan,” and again Mylikki’s color rose as she said the name, “this man made them change at will. He enhanced them, somehow. The trees bore more fruit, the harvests were more bountiful because of him. But then his powers deserted him.”

  Kevla was horrified. How could a Dancer lose his power? He was the element, how could the abilities simply vanish? “How did this happen?”

  “Our gods are as you described them,” Gelsan said quietly.

  Kevla turned her attention to the other woman. The comment seemed to have nothing to do with the conversation. “I don’t understand.”

  “You mentioned this man standing with one of our gods,” Gelsan continued. “That means your vision must be true. You are obviously a stranger to this land, and yet you described them perfectly. Giant cats, with blue and white stripes. We call them tigers. They live high in the mountains. They made the world and determined the cycles. In the old days, they would descend and walk through the world, and flowers would spring beneath their feet.”

  “When the Spring-Bringer began to change the seasons, everyone thought that the gift of the gods had been passed to him,” Mylikki continued. “But when his powers deserted him, people said the gods were angry with him, and took his powers as punishment.”

  “But my vision,” Kevla said. “I saw him with the simmar—the tiger. So he must be still blessed by the gods.”

  “Then why is there still winter?” Gelsan’s voice was harsh. She was angry, and understandably so. If what Mylikki had said was true, and the Stone Dancer had lost his powers, everyone in this land was suffering.

  Kevla passed a hand over her forehead. Jashemi would have been able to help her make sense of this information. But he was gone, and could not offer advice, or comfort, or love anymore.

  She took a deep breath. “I don’t know. But it does sound as if this man is the one I seek. Where is Altan now?”

  “Long gone,” said Gelsan before Mylikki could speak. “And a good thing, too. Planting ideas in my daughter’s head.”

  “I have talent,” Mylikki retorted. “He said I could play almost as well as someone who had been formally apprenticed.”

  “Women don’t become huskaas,” Gelsan said.

  “Women don’t become head of their village either,” Mylikki snapped, then gasped at Gelsan’s expression. Clearly, Mylikki had spoken before she had thought.

  Attempting to forestall the argument, Kevla said, “I fly on the back of the Dragon. I will be able to find the Stone Dancer if you tell me where to look.”

  Mother and daughter regarded each other intently. Mylikki swallowed hard. “I won’t tell you,” she said, and dragged her gaze to Kevla’s. “I’ll show you.”

  “Mylikki,” Gelsan said in a warning voice.

  Abruptly Mylikki leaped to her feet, her stool toppling backward. “This is the first hint of hope we have had, Mother! If Kevla is like the Spring-Bringer, then maybe she can help him get his powers back. Maybe she can bring an end to this horrible winter!” Her voice grew thick but no less angry. “We are dying slowly, one by one, and if this goes on much longer everyone and everything in this land will be dead. You know how little food is left. You did what you had to do. Let me do what I must!”

  “You want to follow the boy because he had a pretty face and spoke kindly to you!” Gelsan, too, was on her feet now, clutching her mending so tightly her knuckles were white.

  “And if I did?” Mylikki was trembling with anger. “He is still the only chance we have—that Kevla has. I am weary of this winter, Mother. I am weary of the cold, and the poor food, and the fear and sorrow that hangs over our land like a snow-cloud. I want a little bit of hope. I want to think that I’m doing something, not sitting in this house mending old clothes and dying a little bit more each minute!”

  Gelsan opened her mouth, then closed it again at once. When she did speak, her voice was low and soft. “Shame is on our household, to speak this in front of a stranger, daughter.”

  Kevla could stay silent no longer. “I intend no disrespect,” she said, “but if Mylikki is willing to lead me to Altan, then I will accept her offer. I must warn you both that the Dancer
s have an enemy—a powerful man I know only as the Emperor. I appear to be eluding his gaze in this land, and I am grateful for it. But if Mylikki comes with me, she might very well be in danger.”

  Gelsan gazed at Kevla and her eyes blazed. Then, suddenly, the older woman seemed to sag a little.

  “Mylikki is right,” she said, her voice hollow. “We are dying a little bit more each day. I would keep her safe, but perhaps she will be safer with a Dragon and a fire-woman than here in this village, where madmen lurk in the woods and food grows ever scarcer.”

  Mylikki stood still, hardly breathing.

  “Let us pack your things,” Gelsan said. Both mother and daughter looked as if they wanted desperately to reach out to one another, but something held them back.

  Kevla, who had gotten to her feet moments before, said quickly, “I will let the Dragon know,” and slipped out the door.

  His eyes narrowed when he saw her. “You have learned something. I see it in your face.” Kevla told him. “Another clue on our journey, then,” he said. “Another piece of this puzzle.”

  Kevla sighed. “I am tired of journeys and puzzles, Dragon. I would find this man quickly and be done with it.”

  “Of course, but that is not how things usually work,” the Dragon replied, maddeningly philosophical. He rose and shook himself. “I will see if I can find them any more food as a parting gift,” he said, suiting action to word.

  Alone in the center of the circle of houses, Kevla looked around, again taking in the extreme poverty of the place. Though they were far apart in distance and circumstance, the little village of Arrun Woods had much in common with the place where Kevla had spent the first ten years of her life. Death lurked here, as Gelsan had said, in the form of madmen in the woods and in the slow pinch of starvation. It stank of fear, and yet the people had not given up. Kevla thought of the harsh mien of her mother, forced to sleep with men for money to feed herself and her child. She thought of the beggars on the street, already half out of this life. She found herself smiling at one of the children who shyly waved at her as he zipped past on skelthas, and realized she was growing fond of Gelsan and her family.