Shortly before the first light the second born failed. He died without ever tasting his mother’s milk; he had been too weak. But the arrival of day saw the first born summon his father with a shrill wail.
† † †
Diana joined the small family for a moment, extending sympathies and admiration. But as Szori departed to prepare the littlest for burial, Diana turned to where Elana sat quietly in the far corner of the room. She was nestled into the windowseat with her head tipped back against the wall. Her arms were wrapped wearily about her knees, and the old, borrowed kirtle was soiled with dried blood. Despite the fact that her skin had grown pale again, she looked exhausted.
Eyes half-closed, Elana turned her head as her Shadowmate came to squat beside her. Di’nay’s intentions radiated a concern mixed with a shining pride, and like a child hugging in the warmth of a fire, Elana squeezed her knees to her chest. In truth she was too drained to have tended to much save the baby, but Di’nay’s subtle strength was releasing her from even that chore now.
“The lad is suckling happily… and Bowgyn will stay until Szori returns,” Diana murmured. Gently she brushed the hair from the corner of a blue eye. “Will you come sleep now?”
Fuzzily Elana nodded but moving was the last thing her body wanted to do. Her fingers loosened and painfully her knees unbent a fraction of an inch. Between the foot of the bed and this windowseat, she realized that she’d spent close to four hours knotted tight.
“Let me,” Diana said. Elana didn’t think to protest as arms encircled her and lifted. With a single bounce Diana shifted the woman’s weight for balance and carried her from the room. Elana’s arms wrapped around her neck, and she snuggled into the cool fabric of the Amazon’s tunic.
“You smell good,” Elana mumbled as she recognized a faint, clean scent that had nothing to do with the soap and water of the earlier bath. A deep-throated chuckle echoed kindly in her ears as they climbed the stairs.
A booted foot swung the door closed with something of a rattle, and Diana hesitated, turning to glance around the room.
“You’re strong too,” Elana muttered, still in that same halfdrugged tone.
“I’m an Amazon,” Diana reminded her with a grin, and her warm brown gaze rested on her sleepy charge. “Where’s your clean kirtle, Darling?”
The faintly rational piece of her mind was still struggling with the fact that Di’nay was so completely unperturbed by her weight, but the endearment finally registered. Somewhat startled she roused herself and lifted her head, wondering if she had heard the word or if the soft amarin had triggered a mental echo.
“A… my pack,” she managed. “Why do I need my kirtle? Are we leaving?”
“You’re sleeping,” Diana corrected firmly. “But not in this old thing.”
“But I don’t sleep in anything.” That was right, she thought, confused. Perhaps she was supposed to… no, she knew her own habits, didn’t she? Why was it so hard to think around this Amazon? She did smell good.
“Then nothing it is,” Diana agreed easily. She withheld a teasing comment.
“Is that your tea?” Elana asked, suddenly aware of another scent in the air.
Di’nay deposited her carefully on the large bed. Her fingers pulled patiently at the laces in the kirtle’s bodice. “Would you like some?”
That sounded delightful, Elana thought. “Mhmm, please.”
She stripped the old garment off over her head as Di’nay fetched her the drink. It felt good to slide between the cool layers of the sheets, and the cobwebs in her head seemed to lessen. Somehow just knowing the luxury of sleep was near made the urgency for it fade. The change of the rooms — in the tensions — it felt so good.
The tea was delicious and not too hot. It eased the ache of her parched throat. She smiled as Di’nay produced her comb and almost eagerly wiggled to the center of the bed to make room for the Amazon.
The long, tempered strokes pulled through her hair and the weariness was freed with the tangles. The tea refreshed and soothed. The gentle hands calmed. As the comb finally slid without catching time and again, a long, low purr passed through her lips. She was content.
“Done with your tea?” Diana queried softly.
Elana nodded, smiling gratefully over her shoulder as Di’nay took the cup away. “Thank you,” she said suddenly, remembering her manners.
“Thank you,” Diana said softly. She dropped another log into the flames, and starting to undress, she came to bed. “You saved Maryl’s life — and the little one’s.”
Elana sighed in regret. “The second was so close — ”
“The Mother will hold him near,” Diana murmured softly. She shed the last of her garments and snuffed out the candle. Beside the bed she paused, silently considering the young woman. “You did more than the Fates had thought possible, Elana. There was nothing else that could have been done.”
Elana smiled faintly, eyes fixed on the fire beyond the footboard. “It was the Mother’s doing that they were even alive so late in carrying. We of Aggar are such poor bearers of twins.”
“It is simply the way you are built.” Diana climbed into bed cautiously. Every nurturing instinct she possessed was crying out for her to gather this woman near to hold and sleep. But she also knew herself well enough to know that compassion was not the sole motivator in such desires.
Elana looked at Di’nay, and for a long moment they were still as the flickering shadows danced about them. A small voice in the corner of Elana’s mind asked if she had learned nothing from last night, but she was achingly tired — and lonely. She moistened her lips and ventured, “I see something of your amarin… would I be unwelcome if — if I asked that you hold me?” She looked at her hands. “I would like you to, I think.”
Startled, Diana realized it was the first such statement from Elana she believed. The knot in her own stomach began to unwind. This woman — with her shining dark hair cloaking her back — the ivory of her face and shoulders shimmering in the firelight — was beautiful.
“You’d be very welcomed,” Diana murmured. Her touch on Elana’s shoulder was gentle as she drew her down and into her arms. The coolness of their skins warmed quickly… just as quickly their unease melted.
The softness of the shoulder under her cheek amazed her, and Elana wondered if women were always so soft — so incredibly soft. Her hand slid tentatively across the arched ribs before Di’nay pulled it higher to rest between her breasts. The tender clasp stayed, coveting Elana’s hand.
The clean scent that Elana was beginning to associate with Di’nay warmed with the heat of their closeness and gradually enveloped her senses. Her body relaxed in the languid grasp of Di’nay’s amarin, and with contentment she slipped off to sleep.
† † †
Chapter Fifteen
At the faint knock, Diana looked up from her seat beside the fire. Her eyes sought the still figure huddled beneath the covers, hoping Elana was undisturbed. Satisfied, Diana quietly shrugged off the heavy blanket, slid on her tunic, and crossed the room. Maryl had instructed the girl well, Diana thought with relief. She cracked the door to find Szori leaning patiently against the far wall. But then Maryl was even more wary of others discovering Di’nay’s sex than Diana herself was.
“Tad….” The girl half-bobbed a curtsy in greeting. “My Master would have you know the horses arrived.”
“Fine,” Diana whispered, “send them to the stables. I am not prepared to travel today.”
The girl nodded nervously, eyes fixed on the bare toes visible below the blanket’s edges. “Will you be needing your breakfast fetched up for you, Tad?”
Diana suppressed a smile; it was almost mid-day. “Enough for two. Knock and leave it at the door.”
“Aye, Tad.” She bobbed again and scampered away.
Did she really look as if she ate unsuspecting housemaids for breakfast? Diana grinned and shut the door carefully to turn and dress. Actually, she doubted that she looked as imposing as most
men would in the morning, considering her lack of whiskers. It was fortunate that in reality the Southern Desert Peoples rarely could grow heavy beards.
Diana cinched her belt loosely and settled down into her fireside chair again with the blanket wrapped around her. She really was getting too finicky about clean clothes and weather and such.
Thunder rumbled somewhere. Winter was threatening early this season. Outside rain splattered heavily against the shuttered windows, dimming the already gray light. She shifted, returning her gaze to the hearthstones as memories descended.
Heavy rain can be the Goddess’ blessing, Terri had often said. “You warm the fires and gather your family. It’s a time to remember your children and to spin stories. And when you’re older, it’s an extra moment to treasure with your lover….”
Diana blinked as the tears stung the backs of her eyes unexpectedly. She had been ten, maybe eleven years old when Terri had taken her up on her lap and talked of rains and things. Barely a season later her Aunt Ivory, Terri’s mate, had died in the spring flood. It had never changed the way Terri spoke of the seasons’ cycles or of the Goddess, but it changed her smile. It tempered the teasing mirth — the careless laughter that her family had always known from her. She still laughed and she was still very loving, giving and even happy — especially since she’d joined with Bess. But the reckless abandon had been washed away in those foaming waters.
Odd, she hadn’t thought about Terri’s loss in a long, long time.
Diana remembered Terri’s arrival had coincided with the birth of her cousin, Rosa. The two additions had brought the family’s total to eleven… three couples, four children, and Oma Hanna. Hanna had taken the summer in stride and welcomed all with plans for a new wing. By fall the adobe house had fairly doubled in size, Aunt Ivory was again on Shekhina for Moonbase duty, and Terri was proving herself invaluable to the family’s sanity.
Smiling, Diana remembered climbing into Terri’s lap and those strong arms holding tight. That particular stormy day had only been one of many. For whatever unfathomable reasons children choose, Terri had become her idol, and the loving woman had done her best never to disillusion her small niece. Diana chuckled. The entire family had probably recognized the girlish crush.
Diana could remember her mother, Kate, smiling as she would seriously cite Terri’s opinion or advice. She half-suspected that on many occasions, Terri had merely re-iterated Kate’s words.
And on that day? When she had spoken of lovers’ stolen moments? What had she been saying?
Diana remembered the gray-blue eyes and the shaggy, dark hair that tousled across Terri’s pale forehead and tapered down between her shoulders. Diana had been asking about what lovers did and why sex was not always spoken of as lovemaking. Very weighty questions for a ten-year-old, Diana mused. But Morgan, the eldest of the four — no five, by then Jasmin had been born — Morgan for the first time was dating someone seriously, and Diana had been hearing Oma Hanna and the adults worrying about her. Diana hadn’t quite understood why seeing a friend frequently could suddenly result in so much crying and hurt. It had seemed as if Morgan was terribly unhappy one day and joyously excited the next.
Her mother had tried to explain. But Diana had only vaguely grasped that it had something to do with the difference between making love and having sex. So she had trotted off to the living room to ask Terri.
Diana smiled wryly. Couldn’t really say that she had learned a lot from Terri either, considering the string of disasters she’d muddled through since going off-world. But she doubted that Terri had been at fault there.
“Sometimes you feel all wound up and ready to skip and dance,” she had said, “just like a top before you set it spinning. Then sometimes it feels mellow and warm like late at night when you’re sitting around the hearthstones listening to Gum Lin sing… or Oma Hanna chant.
“If you meet someone and you’re thinking about them just about all of the time — and you’re feeling like a top ready to spin, then she might become your friend or maybe even your lover. If you meet someone that always makes you feel warm and safe, then she may become your very dear friend… and well, maybe your lover after a very long time. But when you find someone who makes you feel one way sometimes and the other way other times, then you’ve found someone who could be very, very special to you. And you may want to be her friend or become her lover. But then you have to be careful, Diana, because you may — deep down inside — truly want her to be your mate, and it can hurt a whole lot if you really want to spend a lifetime with her and she just wants to be friends for a little while.”
They had talked more about what Morgan or her friend might be feeling, and about how Diana might act differently someday, but Diana didn’t remember much else from that talk. There were days she doubted she remembered any of Terri’s wisdom, but today was not one of them.
Diana turned sideways in her chair and rested her head against the back as she looked towards the bed. Elana was buried deeply under the quilts, curled tight in a fetal position, not even her dark hair visible. She wondered if Elana had been re-living the birthing in her dreams.
Diana hadn’t felt that wound-up top feeling in ages. What she had felt briefly with Maryl resembled it, but with this dark-haired little shea…? Her own sexual awareness had a much different pull to it — much less urgent with her. The woman was beautiful; few Sisters — Amazons or not — would not find her attractive….
But that other kind of love… that had been missing in her life. That warming, home-hearth kinship that bound friends together for a lifetime. Was that what she was so constantly on guard against now? Given that they did not have the possibility of a lifetime together, was it the pain at their parting that she feared? Being lonely had made Diana doubly vulnerable and even less trusting of her judgment as well as weary of losses and good-byes.
But what would be their parting be like if she truly kept Elana at arms’ length?
If she drew back and remained on the logical but companionable footing she had originally intended, in a monarc what would be missing at their parting? Did she really want to leave Elana without ever knowing her? Had she grown so cynical that she would not cherish the beauty of an early bud simply because the frost would not let it open?
And their attraction?
Diana sighed. She had desired and declined before, and seldom regretted it. At times it had been difficult, at other times easily ignored.
But last night she had tempered her feelings rather than flatly rejecting them and it had felt good. Diana smiled very faintly; perhaps the Goddess was beginning to prepare her for Home?
† † †
Circling, swirling, her fingers slid through the lush moisture… the woman’s hips arched and pushed upwards into her grasp… trembling, fluttering downward, then exploding with a deep-throated moan. The touch eased — playing… soothing… her mouth kissed the darkened skin tenderly, nuzzling the heavy, soft breast aside — burying kisses in the warm valley.
“Beautiful…,” Diana purred, half-drugged in the softness beneath her, “so very beautiful — ”
A sob of pure anguish escaped the woman and, alarmed, Diana paused, lifting her head as she said, “It’s what I do!”
Diana jumped, bolting upright from her dream.
“Di’nay?” Elana’s hand questioningly touched her arm.
“It’s all right,” Diana mumbled quickly. “Just a dream. Go back to sleep.”
“For certain?”
Diana said stiffly, “I’ll get up and get some tea.” She forced herself to throw back the thin blanket. She slid on her boots, refusing to acknowledge the cold, and crawled out from beneath the low branches of the silverwood pine where they had camped for the night.
She built the fire up brighter than she needed to, to chase the darkness back. She desperately wished the dream images would flee with it. Cruelly she pinched the bridge of her nose, but that pain did not free her. She set the water to heat and squatted, her finge
rs tucked under her armpits, rather than getting her gloves and cloak which lay with her bedding.
She shivered again, but it was not from the frosty night. She squeezed her eyes shut and faced that dream — that dream of the event which Maryl had so feared might happen. That fear had surfaced during their third monarc together, after Cleis’ visit. Maryl had finally understood the relationship Leist and Di’nay shared.
Maryl had been too much a creature of the punishing restrictions of her upbringing not to have been shaken and terrified by that understanding. The world she lived in was a very different one from that of the Council. Once again Diana wondered at the tolerance of that Council for the barbaric customs of the peoples they tried to guide. She did not have Elana’s faith.
Her dream had been a muddle of desires and — shame. Initially she had cared for the woman, and in the back of her mind she had hoped one day to become closer. But during the monarc following Cleis’ visit, they had lived with Maryl’s silent terror, and Diana had been at a loss for what to do.
She had never thought of herself as a threat to another woman’s safety. But the frightened silence that had struck if she glanced up and the shuffling gait that had hurried Maryl away had been brutal testimony to the contrary. She did not even dare ask Maryl what violence she feared.
Her personal experience on other planets with homophobia had been limited to silent distaste or ludicrous, loud hypocrisy. There had been some ugliness, but never this utter fear. She felt guilt because of her attraction to the woman and shame in being attracted when Maryl’s unwillingness was so blatantly evident.
Shadows of Aggar (Amazons of Aggar) Page 19
