by Anne Logston
He concentrated on Ria’s face as he’d seen it in his few precious dreaming encounters, trying to fix it in his mind. Where was she? Was she well? Was she, perhaps, thinking of him? It was late, and she’d likely be sleeping; perhaps her spirit would be wandering, too, in dreams.
Val called to her in his thoughts, as he’d called for help during his passage, trying to picture Ria’s face before him. He grew frustrated as nothing happened. Was he doing this wrong? But what else could he do? He was here, he was calling, wasn’t he? If only someone had thought to teach him! If only he’d asked to learn!
He turned to the still pool before him. He’d seen Chyrie’s reflection there before. Perhaps—he tried to picture Ria’s face reflected there in the water, her blue-green eyes, still hazy with sleep, meeting his—
Something seemed to flex weakly within him, like a muscle long disused, then more strongly, and suddenly Val felt a presence near, a familiar presence and yet unfamiliar—
Startled. WHO COMES HERE?
Val was rocked with the force of that question, as he might have been rocked by a blast of sudden fierce wind, as he might be nearly swept away by a deep creek fast and full in flood. Was it one voice or many? He had the strangest feeling that there were two voices—one male, one female —so interwoven as to be almost indistinguishable from each other, with some tremendous force behind them that almost overshadowed both.
For a moment Val was too terrified to answer, but he forced himself to stand firm. He’d been here before, hadn’t he? Grimly he remembered the sound of Blue-eyes’ arrows whistling toward his sister, and anger washed away the fear. This time, perhaps because of his anger, whatever flexed deep within him felt more strong and sure.
I am Valann, son of Chyrie, and I seek my sister’s spirit, Val thought boldly. I won’t return until I find her.
Vast surprise, so powerful that Val was almost thrown back into chaos. For a moment it seemed that the entire universe around him rocked with the force of that astonishment. Then confusion almost as great as the surprise, as if the voice he’d heard had suddenly split in two and was arguing with itself.
RIA? Image of a tiny baby, delicate face framed in black curls, great blue-green eyes sparkling. Sudden pain, longing that tore through Val’s heart.
HERE? Dizzying flashes of the Heartwood as if seen through a thousand different eyes, spinning across the length and width of the forest and back again so that for a moment Val’s mind refused to accept it all. WHERE? HOW?
For a moment Val was too bewildered to realize that the questions were directed at him. A blast of worry/confusion/impatience rocked him again, and before he recovered something swept through him with the force of a forest stream in spring flood, washing his memories up to light.
The battle with the Blue-eyes, Val as frightened as he was furious, utterly certain that those arrows were whistling death at his own sister. HOW COULD WE NOT SEE HER? HOW COULD WE NOT KNOW?
The same battle, but from a different perspective, as if he looked down from a tree through eyes unaccustomed to darkness, roused from drowsy sleep by screams.
Sleepy forest denizens fleeing in confusion as arrows whistled, as shouts echoed through what had been quiet forest.
Nighttime creatures fleeing too, terrified, as burning arrows dazzled their eyes. Fire, the universal fear. Brief confusing image of two forms stumbling from the forest, too fleeting for comprehension over all the fear, confusion, need for flight. Then the sounds decreasing, the forest slowly regaining its equilibrium. The intruders were gone.
RIA. Great sadness. Sense of irrevocable loss.
She’s near, in the city, Val thought desperately. Could this strange duality be his mother? By the Mother Forest, what had she become? Ah, yes. By the Mother Forest indeed. I want to go to her. Help me find her.
Sudden change of perspective, perhaps a memory—soaring, flying, leaving the forest, sudden frightening great sky around him, so open, so naked and vulnerable, and ahead, the great stone city—
NO!!
Fleeting images of stone closing in around him, the earth shattering beneath him, fire, pain, death—
NO!! Sudden wrenching twist, wresting him from the vision. He was standing beside the pool again. Silence.
Please, Val thought again, more urgently. I want to go to her in the city. Help me find her.
NO. Brief, flashing vision of the city, shudder of fear. NO. NOT THERE. BRING HER HERE TO YOU. TO US.
How? Val repeated. Show me how.
Brief flash of impatience. Abruptly a giant hand seemed to seize him and fling him outward into chaos. Terrified, Val felt a part of himself flailing desperately for purchase, to some anchor, but there was nothing to hold, no point of familiarity—
There! Eagerly, almost desperately, Val seized on that one solid awareness within all the confusion. Then the sense of recognition.
Ria!
Drowsy fog, only vague awareness, as if she only half noticed him, as if she hadn’t the strength to respond. Was she ill, or was her skill that much weaker than his own?
Come to me, he thought as strongly as he could. Come to the forest, come home, come soon.
Vague understanding, some sense of agreement and longing, but without any clear response. Slowly she faded away again. Either she was too weak to contact him clearly or he was too unskilled. He could feel, too, that the effects of the potion were fading. Well, he’d done what he could. She’d come, or she wouldn’t.
Slowly he awakened. The hut was almost dark, the fire burned low, but Lahti was still beside him. She smiled and caressed his cheek when he turned his head to look at her.
“You dreamed only a few hours this time,” she said. “Did you find your sister’s spirit?”
“I’m not certain,” Val admitted, sighing. “I believe I did, but I’m not sure she knew it. At least I know she lives.”
Lahti patted his hand.
“She lives, and she’s but a short journey away, closer than she’s been in sixteen years,” she said encouragingly. “Now that you know, we needn’t rush away at the first opportunity. We’ll have time to make a plan to slip away when Dusk and his winged messengers become a little less vigilant.”
Val found her reasoning less than perfect, but there was no use in saying it. Neither did he tell Lahti that in one respect he had to agree with Rowan: He no longer had any intention of taking Lahti with him, not if he had to creep away from Inner Heart against Rowan’s wishes. Rowan and Dusk would surely know where he was going, and they’d send word to Hawk’s Eye by way of one of Dusk’s birds. If the Hawk’s Eyes found Val and Lahti in their territory, they’d capture Lahti and likely Valann, too—oh, most respectfully, of course—and take them back to Inner Heart. And even if Val and Lahti could slip unseen through Hawk’s Eye’s lands, Val could scarcely take Lahti to the human city. Unlike the elves, humans placed no special value on fertility and pregnancy; Rowan had told him as much, and that meant that Lahti’s pregnancy would not keep her from harm in the human city. The prospect of taking her with him into hostile territories when Lahti was still a child had been almost unthinkable; he certainly would not risk taking her into much greater danger now that she was pregnant. But there was no use in saying that, either; Lahti would only argue, or say nothing and find a way to follow him as she had before. No, this time he would have to find a way not only to elude Dusk’s watchers, but Lahti as well.
“Perhaps you’re right,” he said, sighing again. “But I’m relieved to learn that my sister’s alive.”
Lahti lay down comfortably on the furs beside him.
“Isn’t that a fine cause for celebration?” she smiled.
“But even better than that,” Val said deliberately, “is the child you’ll bear. What greater cause of celebration could there be?”
Lahti laughed with delight and came eagerly to his arms.
Chapter Nine—Ria
By midday Ria was rather less hopeful than she’d been the night before. Under the gui
se of studying Allanmere’s history, she’d perused the maps made of the forest area during the invasion. According to those maps, the road to the center of the forest should have been just where Ria had looked for it. The territory Lord Sharl and Lady Rivkah had approached on the south side of the forest should have belonged to the Brightwater clan, too, and not the Blue-eyes. Obviously a great deal had changed in the forest in sixteen years. There was no knowing where it might be safe to enter the forest, where Ria might encounter elves who might help her, or at least not try to shoot her full of arrows before she could even tell them what she wanted. Of course, that might have happened simply because of Cyril’s presence. She couldn’t risk a similar misunderstanding; this time she’d have to slip away without his help and knowledge, or he’d certainly insist on accompanying her. No, all she could hope was that he was mage enough to cast a healing spell so she could walk, and the rest would be up to her.
Of more interest were the accounts kept by Lord Sharl and Lady Rivkah of their experiences with the elves—in the forest, and among the elves who had stayed in the city during the invasion. Lady Rivkah had taught both Cyril and Ria all of the elven customs and rituals that she’d learned, and she’d told them both wonderful stories of what she’d seen in the forest, but the notes told the stories Lady Rivkah hadn’t shared—stories of elves dancing naked by the firelight or running naked through the rain, coupling out in the open in broad daylight or in groups in their huts. It appeared that the elves were very interested indeed in reproduction—including all of its preliminaries. Ria chuckled. Just the sort of thing Lady Rivkah wouldn’t have told two curious children.
At the same time, however, Ria felt a vague sense of disappointment. So the elves were just as concerned with coupling and kissing and other such odd behavior as the humans were. She’d somehow hoped that her elven kin would behave more sensibly. Apparently that was not the case. Why, then was Ria different? Was it because of her odd mixture of bloods?
“What are you reading?” Cyril asked idly, glancing up from the grimoire he was studying.
“Just some old histories,” Ria said, hurriedly shutting the book. She felt warmth flood into her cheeks. It was hard even to meet his eyes this morning after last night’s dream. “Why?”
“You were laughing,” Cyril said, raising an eyebrow. “I thought it might be something interesting.”
“No, not very,” Ria said with forced casualness, placing the book back on the shelf where she’d found it. Somehow she didn’t want Cyril reading what she’d read about the elves. Who knew what kind of ideas those passages might put into his head? “What about you? Are you finding what you wanted?”
“Mmm-hmmm. Come and look, if you want.”
Ria limped over with the aid of the crutch Lady Rivkah had given her and looked. She’d expected a magical grimoire to be more elegant-looking, perhaps more—well, mysterious. It was only a large book, however, with a scuffed and battered leather cover, with neat writing covering the parchment. Interspersed with the script were a few arcane diagrams and sketches, and less identifiable symbols.
“That’s it?” Ria asked disappointedly. She pointed to an odd-looking pattern of converging lines and curves. Trying to follow the intricate patterns with her eyes made her feel vaguely dizzy. “What’s that?”
“That’s the lattice structure of magical energies,” Cyril said. “It’s not as complicated as I was afraid it would be. I’ll show you a really tough one.” He leafed back a few pages and pointed. “Look at this one.”
Ria glanced at the pattern and gasped, hurriedly grasping the edge of the table as the world seemed to spin dizzily. Her stomach heaved, and for a moment she thought she might vomit; when her vision cleared, Cyril had closed the book and risen to his feet, supporting her with one strong arm around her waist.
“What’s the matter?” he asked worriedly. “Here, sit down.”
“I don’t know.” Ria was only too glad to let Cyril help her down to the stool he had previously occupied. “I just looked at that thing and it—it made me sick to look at it.”
“Oh?” Cyril’s eyebrows lifted. “You must have a little magic in you yourself, even if it’s not enough for magery, or it wouldn’t have affected you. I always thought you might have a little of the gift, the way you seem to disappear sometimes, but if Mother had thought you had enough to train, she’d have—well, sorry, I didn’t know. Anyway, the healing spell’s simple enough. I’d try it even without a familiar if I could practice first on some of the livestock. I’ll try linking up with Jenji tonight, and if that works well, I’ll have the materials for the healing spell with me.” He glanced down at Ria’s bandaged leg. “Still want to trust me with it?”
“If you knew how this hurts,” Ria said wryly, “you wouldn’t ask. I can usually get potions for the pain, but then all I do is sleep all the time. Which your mother would probably like, but I’m just—”
“—too stubborn to sit still and quietly take her punishment,” Cyril said. “I can’t say I would, either. All right. Ready for me to help you back to your room? It’s almost time for dinner.”
“You don’t have to,” Ria said hastily. There were a good many stairs between the library and her room, and Ria had stifled several yelps of pain nobbling to the library that morning; tired now, she had no confidence in her ability to make the trip again. She wanted Cyril to go on without her, so he wouldn’t witness the indignity of Ria having to call a servant and ask him to carry her back.
“I don’t mind.” Cyril handed Ria the book, then looped her arm around his shoulders; before Ria realized what he was doing, he’d slid his free hand under her knees and lifted her from the chair. “Oof. You’re heavier than I thought.”
“It’s not me,” Ria protested, embarrassed. “It’s this book that weighs almost as much as I do.”
Cyril kindly refrained from any further criticism, although he was wheezing unflatteringly by the time he reached Ria’s room. Whether because of his own embarrassment at the effort it took him to carry the tiny Ria (plus the weighty book) or because of his eagerness to start his preparation for the spells, Cyril left quickly, and Ria was once again alone with Jenji and her thoughts. She hoped to nap until Cyril returned—the pain and exertion after days of bed rest had all but exhausted her—but she’d hardly more than settled herself when Lizette appeared with her dinner and insisted on sitting and watching Ria eat every bite; then Lady Rivkah intruded to tend Ria’s leg. The High Lady appeared to be in a more sympathetic mood this afternoon, and to Ria’s surprise she was wearing her plain tunic and trousers instead of her surcoat.
“You were wanting to see the market,” Lady Rivkah said as she smoothed the wrinkles out of the bandage around Ria’s leg. “You’ve been so miserable here in your room, I thought you might enjoy a ride through the rebuilt parts of the city. I’ve arranged a cart, if you aren’t too tired after your morning in the library.”
As tired as she’d been, and as angry as she’d been at Lady Rivkah, the prospect of going outside, even for a moment, was the most wonderful idea Ria had ever heard.
“I’d like that,” Ria said eagerly. Then she stopped. “But why a cart? Won’t a carriage be better?”
“Because we haven’t gotten a carriage made yet,” Lady Rivkah said matter-of-factly, patting Ria’s shoulder, “and likely won’t for some time, not when there are so many more important things to be done. Some of the roads are still too blocked for a carriage to get through, besides, but a small cart should be fine. Sharl’s been all around the city, but I’ve hardly had a chance for a good look myself, so if you don’t mind a simple, probably bumpy cart and me for your driver, we’ll go now.”
Ria was out of the bed so quickly that her leg’s quick change of position from horizontal to vertical brought tears of pain to her eyes. Lady Rivkah kindly refrained from laughing at her charge’s discomfort, and spared her foster daughter’s pride, too, by helping Ria down the stairs to the front hall herself, where a narrow pony car
t had been pulled up almost to the door. Ria settled herself as comfortably as possible, fuming at the delay while Lady Rivkah tucked pillows under her legs. Jenji took his favorite perch on Ria’s shoulder, dancing from paw to paw in his excitement at being outside. It was wonderful just to breathe the fresh air and feel the warm sun on her skin, but she wanted to get as far from the keep as she could, if only for a few hours.
The cart ride was as bumpy as Lady Rivkah had predicted, and Ria was quickly glad for the cushioning pillows; she was soon forced to transfer Jenji to her lap to avoid being constantly throttled by the chirrit’s tail around her neck. To Ria’s disappointment, Lady Rivkah avoided the eastern section of the city nearest the forest—that would have been a good opportunity to look for probable escape routes—because the eastern and southern sections were still in the poorest condition.
“What are all those buildings?” Ria asked, pointing to the large open area at the northeast end of the city. There were only a few structures there, and only two had been rebuilt.
“Those were temples,” Lady Rivkah told her. “There are only the two active now, devoted to the gods Urex and Vittmar the Weeper.”
“Why put them all the way over there by themselves?” Ria wondered.
“That was Sharl’s idea,” Lady Rivkah said. “He believes that because of all the merchants and traders who will come through Allanmere, many priests will want to build temples here, and he planned a whole section of the city for them to use. Someday there may be dozens of temples in our city, and the influx of worshippers will help increase trade, too.”
Ria was relatively uninterested in temples, as she was in what Lady Rivkah told her would one day be houses for the nobility just south of the keep. There’d be a whole district for merchants and their shops directly to the east, but for now only the market was in good enough condition for daily use.
