Valdemar Books

by Lackey, Mercedes

  Sunrunner's day had been as bad as the previous ten. Her hunting had been dismal, but she stayed by her barter with the ironcrafter and gave him the best she'd taken. The weather had been cold and damp. The seasonal dance was tonight, and she was one of the few hunters and scouts who wouldn't be going. She cloaked herself in bravado among her peers, taking this night on watch "so they could enjoy themselves," but the truth of the matter was that when it came to celebrations, she was a gray sparrow, as exciting as tree bark. So it had always been.

  It didn't make sense, she repeated in her mind, as she had hundreds of times before. It didn't make sense. She was attractive enough; a hard worker, and responsible. Yet where were her suitors? Some of the scouts were like the rabbits they hunted, yet she was never offered a trysting feather.

  It was a vicious trap—they didn't pursue her, so she stayed away from where they might. She left scout meetings early, avoided celebrations and gatherings, and became part of the forest at the slightest indication of direct attention from a potential lover. Besides, just any lover wasn't really what she wanted in her heart.

  It didn't make sense, she thought, for yet another time.

  But what could be done?

  There was no doubt in Tullin's mind what needed to come next. The next step, of course, was to work on Ironrose, who was as stubborn as the mountains and as open to subtle hints as the rocks themselves. It would take a direct line, Tullin decided as he reentered the forge room. The smith was hammering away furiously on an arrowhead. He was putting too much force into the blows.

  "Is that your love token for her? Usually they like something a little less practical," he observed, his tailtip twitching with amusement.

  The smith turned, scowling. "I am in no mood for hertasi jokes," he thundered.

  Tullin raised his chin, baring his throat in a submissive gesture. "I had no intent to offend," he said gently. "Only, you were in a bad mood today and so was she, and I thought that it might do you both good to go to the dance together tonight. But you would not ask, so I thought I'd prod you into action."

  "I don't need your help."

  "True, but you do need a bath. I will have a hot soak ready for you in a hawk's stoop," Tullin said before Ironrose could muster a decent protest. "I can see tension in your neck and shoulders, and that makes for poor work. And it's irritating your bird."

  In response, Ironrose's bondbird, a very old tufted owl, opened one eye for almost an entire minute.

  "I don't do poor work, Tullin, and I don't need a soak right now. I've got bow-fittings to design for Tallbush. Folding bow springs and runners, white to red and un-tempered. I have his drawings right here...."

  "Nonsense. You are tense. Your muscles are like ropes and the air tastes of your weariness. There is no one at the pools right now. You can soak for a finger's width of the moon's path and come back to work after that. It will give me time to restock the forge and to bring you the dinner that Coulsie has fixed. When you've eaten and rested, your hammer will ring truer."

  Ironrose hesitated and Tullin offered his clinching argument. "Besides, a certain hertasi has prepared the third pool to your liking and has sent for a mug of wanned truespice tea and towels by way of an apology to you. It would be a shame to have them go to waste, you know."

  Ironrose stared at him for a long moment and then, outsmarted, began removing his apron.

  Sunrunner tallied her aches and bruises as she slogged down the path to the bathing pools. She'd almost gotten caught by a damned wyrsa while she was out today, and had scrapes and scratches that stung even after being bandaged and salved. She'd also lost three of her new arrowheads somehow, before they were even fletched onto shafts. Now she'd have to barter with the iron-crafter again. If she wasn't so sure that hertasi were infallibly trustworthy, she'd almost think Coulsie had taken them. Coulsie had only clucked when asked about them, though, and shooed Sunrunner off to the hot spring, promising to bring the hunter her evening meal while she rested and bathed.

  She sniffed the humid air of the bathing pools appreciatively. Surely things were going to get better. She sat on a pad of moss beside a steaming pool and wearily removed her stained and sweaty clothes.

  Ironrose yawned sleepily. The heat and the wine had relaxed him, and he was reluctant to go back to work in the forge. There was a slight rustle of leaves from the far edge of the pool. Tullin was announcing his presence, he thought with a grin. Usually the hertasi moved silently as the night, but Tullin seemed to be more aware of human needs and occasionally made small noises to alert Ironrose to his presence. He opened his eyes and met the gaze of Sunrunner.

  She entered the water unselfconsciously, then paused when her eyes met Ironrose's. "I... hope you don't mind," she faltered. "Coulsie said this bath would be unoccupied tonight. I guess she didn't speak to your hertasi."

  "Err... no. I didn't mean to stay so long," he fumbled. "Fell asleep in the water." Ironrose reached nervously for his clothes, but found them missing. "Tullin!" he hissed.

  "Is something wrong?" Sunrunner asked, splashing water over her sun-browned arms.

  He sighed. "Only that the hertasi are being entirely too efficient tonight. It seems Tullin thought that my taking a bath would be the perfect chance to take my clothes to be washed and mended."

  "I can pick another pool," she said with a smile.

  "I'm afraid it's too late," he said wryly.

  "You mean...?"

  Ironrose nodded. "Efficient hertasi. I just saw your clothes vanish. Nothing to do for it but wait till they decide to bring them back."

  She glowered at the bushes, then slipped farther into the water. "Oh, well. I'm glad enough to find you here. I've lost some of my arrowheads and need to barter for more of them. Don't know what I did with them; I didn't lose that many arrows hunting."

  He scrubbed at his arms with a small pumice stone. "I've got some extras at the shop. You could come by in the morning to pick them up," he offered.

  "I'll need three of them," she said. "I'm down to six good arrows now and that's not enough for anything more than small game. I promised Winterstar a marsh-buck in exchange for a winter blanket. I'm surprised to find anyone here," she added. "I thought everyone would be at the dance."

  He lowered his eyes to his forge-stained fingers, thick from years of hammering metal. "Great clumsy thing like me? At a dance?" he said wryly. "I'd terrorize the dancers and fall on the musicians. You never saw someone so awkward and untalented in your life."

  "That's hard to believe," Sunrunner said as she palmed warm water onto her face. "You create some of the most beautiful metalwork. I remember that metal buckle in the shape of a lizard that you made for Starhawk."

  He groped for conversation, finding that he enjoyed talking to her, desperate for an excuse to prolong the meeting. A soft rattle at his elbow alerted him that Tullin had returned and he turned to speak to the hertasi. But Tullin had vanished, leaving behind a platter of steaming rabbit and herbs—and two plates.

  He filled one plate and shyly pushed it toward Sunrunner. "Please... won't you join me? There's more than enough, and Tullin brought an extra plate."

  She reached for it, smiling her thanks.

  From his vantage point in the bushes, Tullin blinked his eyes in amusement. Things were going splendidly.

  "Move over!" Coulsie hissed, sliding into place beside Tullin. Tsamar and Shonu eeled through the bushes behind her.

  "Anything happening?" Shonu whispered though whispers were not necessary. The hertasi language sounded like a series of hisses and snorts to the untrained human ear, and blended in with the rustle of the leaves in the wind.

  "They're sharing food," Tullin said with satisfaction. "And they're talking, too, about things other than hunting and metalsmithing. It's going splendidly."

  Shonu snorted softly. "Splendidly? He misses her signals completely! Look, there, how she hoods her eyes and how her hand signals 'come closer' each time she says something to him. He sits there, nostrils dilat
ed, ready for her, frozen like a statue, afraid to move. This isn't 'splendid,' Tullin. Perhaps we should..." A long, clawed hand reached out and wrapped itself around Shonu's snout.

  "I remember the last time you had a good idea," Tullin said with ironic humor. "We spent three weeks trying to explain the situation to the Hawkbrothers and getting them all settled down again. Bluethorn didn't speak to me for five days. I don't think we need any suggestions about Ironrose and Sunrunner."

  "But... but just look at them. At that pace, our children's children will be having children before those two do more than say 'good morning.' Those two need help."

  "I remember how well Icefalcon and Eventree fared with your help."

  Shonu closed his mouth with a snap. Tullin blinked his amusement and turned back to watch the two in the pool.

  "But it all grew back," Shonu protested in vain.

  Tullin entered the smithy, blinking contentedly in the early morning sunlight. Ironrose was already there, stoking the fires of the forge. He tasted the air out of habit, noting that the smith was in a good mood this morning. Gliding over to the worktable, he examined the sketches that Ironrose had left. Today they'd begin on the new bow fittings for Tallbush. He eyed the design critically. They'd need a fairly flexible blend; one that could take a lot of stress... probably one of the eastern Blend Eight ingots. As he turned back toward the ingot storeroom, a scrap of parchment on the floor caught his eye. He bent and picked it up.

  It was a drawing of a rose, caught at the earliest flush of bloom; a graceful spiral of stem and petals reaching upward like a promise. He studied it speculatively for a long moment, then tucked it into his tool pouch. He hefted an ingot of Blend Eight and then, on a sudden impulse, added a quarter-ingot of Blend Two to his load.

  "Where are the drawings?" Ironrose frowned, pawing through the nominally organized litter on his worktable.

  Tullin blinked innocently. "I set them down there, on the corner of your worktable next to the other project. It's still there. Perhaps you picked it up and put it somewhere else?"

  Ironrose moved aside the metal bar of Blend Eight. "Not under them. I promised him the fittings would be finished in the next two days," he fretted. "I can't imagine what I've done with them."

  "Why don't you work on your love token for Sunrunner while I look for them," Tullin suggested.

  "Love token?"

  Tullin pointed to the scrap of paper with the rose, lying pinned by the quarter ingot of Blend Two. "A fitting symbol; a gift more enduring than the feather, a thing of inner grace and beauty with a strong outer form. Like yourself, or like the hunter."

  Ironrose stared in astonishment. "Really, she's not..." he began.

  "...interested in you? Your eyes fail to see what hertasi eyes see—how the hunter laughs with you as she does with no other; how her eyes follow you sadly when you leave. Human eyes may not note, but the hertasi do. Offer the token. It will not be refused." He leaned back, resting his weight on his tail, a casual pose belied by the interest in his wide eyes.

  Ironrose hesitated. "If you think I am wrong, make the rose anyway. If she refuses it as a love token, say that it was only made as a gift."

  "You have nothing to lose," he added, closing in for the verbal kill. "If nothing else, she'll probably give you a return gift of a marshbuck quarter."

  Ironrose weighed the ingot in his large hand. Tullin blinked mildly and picked up a lightweight hammer from the workbench, silently offering it to the smith. Ironrose scowled and took the hammer and turned back to the forge, grumbling, the design for the rose in his hand.

  As soon as the smith's head bent over the design, Tullin darted for the back door.

  Coulsie flicked her tailtip in satisfaction as she took the day's kill from Sunrunner. Tullin slithered in the doorway behind Sunrunner, carrying two arrowheads for the hunter's bow. He nodded and touched muzzles with his mate, then handed the arrowheads to Sunrunner.

  "I see you've had good hunting," he said. "Here are the three arrowheads you asked for—and two more, as a gift."

  Sunrunner took them, bewildered but pleased. "For me? A gift?"

  Tullin nodded knowingly. "I think Ironrose is very interested in you. He would like to offer you a courtship token, I think, but he is too afraid you will reject him—as the others have. So I bring these to you for him, though I know he would rather send his heart. He is afraid of love, but would welcome your friendship."

  Coulsie hissed at him, shocked at his boldness. Tullin blinked one eye at her, his claws flexing with repressed mischief.

  "Ironrose surprises me," Coulsie murmured in the hertasi tongue. "It is a good move, but one I thought he was too shy to make."

  "I didn't say he SENT the two extra arrowheads, now did I?" Tullin said straight-faced. "Nor did I say that he made them. I said that they were a gift—and so they are. I made them for her myself."

  Coulsie flicked her tongue over her muzzle thoughtfully. The Hawkbrothers relied on the truthfulness of the hertasi folk, and while Tullin hadn't lied, he hadn't told the full truth, either.

  "Tullin..." she murmured.

  "Trust me," Tullin whispered. "I have a plan."

  "Move over, Coulsie! I can't see!" Tullin prodded. "You're blocking the view!"

  She looked at him speculatively. "Is Ironrose coming?"

  He nodded, wiggling to a comfortable position next to her.

  "And—?"

  "He finished the token. It took me a long time to talk him into bringing it with him. I came ahead to check on things here and make sure that everything was prepared."

  "Shonu's got dinner for two set up. H'shama and Huli have the kitchen relay ready and Tsamar is cooling the ashdown tea over in the stream."

  "Good. Good," Tullin said with satisfaction. "There's Ironrose now. He's slow tonight."

  Coulsie looked sympathetically at the tall form of the smith. "More awkward than usual, and stiffer in his movements—if that's possible," she noted as the smith began undressing. "Look how carefully he folds his clothes, taking his time. This was a hard decision for him. He looks scared."

  Tullin wiggled, rubbing shoulders with her. "No more scared than I was when I danced my courting dance for you. But I had tasted your scent and knew what the answer would be. Poor taste-blind Hawkbrother only has what his eyes and his heart tell him. The eyes and the heart are notorious liars. Not like the tongue. You cannot lie to the tongue." He slithered down from his perch. "I don't see the love token he made," Tullin sniffed critically.

  "The rose?" Coulsie said.

  "Yes. It's not in his clothes either," Tullin said, rocking back on his heels. "He must have been afraid to bring it after all. I'll have to fix the oversight. Start the food and drinks; I'll be back in a moment!" he whispered as he slid through the leafy undergrowth.

  The hunter toyed with the lacings of the smith's apron she had bartered a moon's hunting for. Tallbush had managed to keep it a secret; he was certain Ironrose would like it very much. She was not so sure, considering the circumstances her heart told her it should be given in.

  Well. If he didn't seem receptive to a courting gesture, then it wasn't really one at all. Just a gift to a skilled artisan to thank him for his work. Nothing more. Easy to explain away.

  Sunrunner smoothed down the outfit Coulsie had prepared for her. It seemed entirely too soft, and it fit the contours of her upper body perfectly. Below that, it draped like a hawk's tail when she walked.

  At least it wasn't in some shocking color like a festival costume. It was a comfortable warm gray, speckled and smooth-seamed. The most confounding thing about it, she'd realized after it was on, was that it had lacings on the back that she couldn't reach herself. How odd.

  Ironrose cursed himself for his ineptitude. If only he was more romantic, like his brethren, he wouldn't feel like he was stumbling naked into a thornbush. He'd made the rose, thinking of her the whole time, crafting the petals with his most beloved tools. He had cooled it with his own breath, felt its he
at radiating to his lips, and imagined Sunrunner's kiss. When he had polished it, he'd imagined Sunrunner's body, smoothed under his hands. And he had imagined her smile.

  But now, he was as nervous as he had ever been in his life. He had mustered enough bravery to come here and meet her, but he didn't have the courage to go any further than that.

  Then she appeared. He looked longingly at her, drowning in her hint of a smile, wishing that he could say or do something.

  "Sunrunner. Good evening. Please. Join me."

  She looked for all the world like a gray falcon flying along the ground as she came closer. When she slowed her walk, her clothing billowed around her legs like a falcon spreading its tail to land. She was grace itself in his eyes.

  She gingerly laid down a pack and pulled back a few strands of hair from her eyes. "I wanted to thank you for the arrowheads. And for everything. I hope you like this."

  "A... gift? For me?"

  Her face flushed red. She nodded, then looked away.

  Oh, stars above, she... how could I have missed this opportunity? I'll look like a fool, and she won't know that I....

  A small, taloned hand reached out and gently touched the smith's elbow. He turned. On a towel by the pool lay the iron rose, gleaming softly in the starlight.

  Babysitter

  by Josepha Sherman

  Josephs Sherman is a fantasy writer and folklorist whose latest novels are the historical fantasies The Shattered Oath and Forging the Runes. Her latest folklore book is entitled Trickster Tales.

  Thunder shook the earth and lightning seemed to shred the sky apart, and Leryn, crammed into this barely dry little cave in the middle of the gods-only-knew-where, thought wryly:

  Of course. Why should my luck change now?

  The whole expedition had been a farce from the start; he acknowledged that now with flawless hindsight. He was a city man, curse it, a settled gem merchant with a settled business. What in the name of all the powers had possessed him to up and leave it? To start over as a wandering merchant? (Elenya, lost Elenya—No!) Bad enough to go traveling among the more-or-less civilized peoples. But why had he ever been mad enough to come up here, to this cold, rocky, godsforsaken wilderness north of Lake Evendim? (Elenya, his mind insisted, his dear one, and the panicky flight from a grief that would not let him rest—No! He would not think of that!) Had he actually expected to start a profitable enough trade with the scattered little hunting parties, their furs for his pretty gems?