Nefen dragged a chair up beside me, on the opposite side of me as Selas. I turned to him. "Why don't you dance?" I asked, leaning on the arm of my chair. Realizing I had come very close to him, I blushed and sat up straight again.
My swift retreat he noted with amusement. "My Lady," he said, placing a hand on his chest, his eyes twinkling. "I fear, not knowing this dance, I would make a fool of your honor guard." He smiled, the skin around his eyes wrinkling.
"Ninny," I poked, rankled.
"I'll accept that badge, in this case," he replied. "At least for a little while longer, until you're ready to dance again." I caught his warm, keen gaze.
"Just a dance," I warned quietly. "That's all I have to offer."
"That's all I'm asking," he said. "It is enough for now."
We danced, a short dance, but he did well, never losing his feet even if he couldn't make all the whirling steps. Given time and a little practice, I could see he'd be able to dance as well as most here could. The dances of his youth, the dances of the nobility, were somewhat more sedate. I knew this was due at least in part to their more elaborate dancing clothes. To the nobility, dancing was about form and beauty, to the rest of us it was about exultation and celebration.
I had helped at a dance thrown by Judge Tally back when I was in my teens. The dances I watched then were slow and carefully posed, and heart-stoppingly graceful. Each movement had a meaning, whispered hurriedly to me by Fianait, the cook's wife. A dance about a love leading to suicide brought me to tears. For each dance, a pair or so of main dancers was chosen, however many were needed to tell the story, then the others danced around them, leaving an open space so those watching could see the whole story. I would be far worse at a nobleman's dance than Nefen was at a peasant's dance.
As the clearing settled down, the revelers tired and sweaty, Nefen borrowed the lute and shared with us a lay from the time of the last Chosen in Dragon's Tooth, Laren. She was called to service by the Goddess to unite the tribes of Dragon's Tooth so they could fight off an invasion by mulhyron, described as dark creatures with teeth and claws as long as daggers. Laren placed the first High King on the throne in Dragon's Tooth, Gallas the Fierce, reputed to be her lover. She died victorious on the battlefield in the last battle with the mulhyron, her spear broken, an mulhyron blade through her chest, the leader of the mulhyron dead with her broken spear embedded in his body. I shivered, praying my end would not be the same, painful and bloody. I did not think I was brave enough to die laughing, as she did.
The Lay of Laren ended with Gallas, now High King, carrying Laren's body by boat to an island in the middle of a lake near his home. He placed her to rest there, and sat vigil with her body for days. Legend said, though he married and sired children, he never loved another woman as he had the First Chosen. His home overlooking the lake where his could-be love rested was a village large by the standard of the time, called Lalinth, and every High King since has ruled from that city.
As night settled over the clearing, colored mist rose from the grass. The mist gave off soft light in flickering pale colors and coalesced into shapes of people and creatures before dissipating. The show continued for some time as I watched, startled and amazed. Our first night here in the camp, Reckonwood had shown us none of its legendary weirdness, but now that seemed about to change.
Wyclif came to stand beside me. "It won't harm you none," he said. "The mist creatures show up a couple times a week. Wouldn't be a celebration without 'em."
"What else have you seen here?" I asked, intrigued.
"The first night me, Renata and Declan was here in the Wood, we saw hundreds of campfires. That's why we came in – we thought other people had come to hide in Reckonwood. But each time we got near one, it was gone like it had never been there. When we lit our own fire and settled in for the night, the other fires popped right back up, and we could see our own shadows moving around the fires – two men and one woman wearing a dress like Renata's. There's the mist creatures, and also dancing lights that play along the ground and up in the trees, along the branches. We hear singing sometimes. Mostly harmless little stuff like that – not even frightening once you're used to it. Not like the tales."
"The Wood protects you," I told him. "The Goddess intended for you all to be safe here. Her creatures will do you no harm while She bids it."
"Not just no harm, Lady," Wyclif said earnestly. "But we would wake in the morning to find firewood at the edge of the camp as if it had been tossed there, and sometimes even fresh dead game. And the soapstone, that was piled up there too. We mightn't-a survived without all that."
"That is wonderful! Her creatures look out for us, not simply refrain from attacking us." I beamed at him, then changed the subject, following my curiosity. "So you arrived with Renata and Declan?"
He cleared his throat, looking down and shuffling his feet. "Well, we all lived in Hartleton," he began. "Knew them both since I was a kid. Always liked Renata – she was kind to me, said I made her laugh. Used to hide me in the manor when Declan was looking for me. Truth be told, Lady, I don't want you thinking less of me or nothing, but I was a thief by trade. Declan threw me in the jail there more'n once. When I saw the painted soldiers coming, I was casing a job, sitting on a roof. I took off for the manor, and just in time to push Renata into the secret passage. She been good to me and all. But she was burned when they started the manor on fire."
"And you risked your life to save a friend," I said. "How brave." I understood he would not mention his own injuries in the attack, and knew they had not been light.
He shrugged, reddening. "Well... and it made Declan a friend of mine, anyhow."
Selas interrupted in his surly voice. "We'll have use for a man with a thief's skills. Can you hide yourself like a good thief?" Wyclif nodded. "Pick locks?" Another nod, this time with the head tilted back a bit as if Selas were insulting his skills. "Use your brain as well as your hands when needed?"
"Yep," Wyclif said. "And work a sword when needed as well."
Selas gave a short nod. "Good enough." He turned back to watch the show of the mists, dismissing Wyclif. The red haired man sprawled down at my feet, leaning back on his elbows with his legs stretched out in front of him. His dancing companion came to sit near him, looking at me shyly.
"This is Killian," Wyclif told me proudly, holding the blond man's hand. "When all this is over, if we both stand, we'd like to do vows and become bondmates. It would be an honor if you could do it like you did for Declan and Renata."
I smiled at them both. "If I stand, I would be honored. But there will be priests," I added.
"Bah." Wyclif waved his hand dismissively.
When my original companions and I returned to the tent, we saw that two of the cots had been replaced with beds made much like mine and Selas'. Nefen's things were under one of the beds, but he moved them and insisted Samar take his bed. Samar signed crazy at him and moved her things underneath the bed with alacrity. The other bed went to Daltorn.
"I'll trade with you, if that would make you more comfortable. I don't want you to feel like a cad taking a bed while your younger and less, hmm, humongous brother is forced to sleep on a cot," Wyntan said, pasting an abject look on his face.
"Get back, you ugly weakling," Daltorn said. "This bed is mine, I don't care if your legs fall off and melt away from the discomfort of sleeping on a cot." He cuffed his younger brother.
"Do not wrestle in this tent," Selas grouched, as Wyntan clownishly made to retaliate. "I'll have you skinned if you knock it down."
Laughing, I poked my head out of the door of the tent to wish the new guards a good night, before I went to bed. I heard the others talking around the table for a while afterward, and fell asleep to the cherished sound of their voices.
Declan, Renata and Wyclif joined us for breakfast, along with Brannach and three other elders – all the stools were filled. We enjoyed bantering and sharing funny stories as we ate, it was a wonderful lighthearted start to the day. Halfw
ay through breakfast I turned to Wyclif.
"Wyclif, please take your group out and bring in the priests who've just arrived. They're in the southwestern part of the forest, near a frozen waterfall. They're not sure where to go next."
"I know the place, Lady." Wyclif grinned. "Priests, eh? I ain't been in sneezing distance of a priest in some time."
"Not since you tried to steal the ceremonial chalice from the temple in Hartleton, and were banned from there," Declan said, giving the thief a hard look.
"If I wanted that chalice," Wyclif said saucily, "It woulda been mine." He laughed out loud as he pushed away from the table.
"He didn't steal it, he just moved it. Every day for two weeks! He just wanted to tweak the nose of old Ruggel, the priest," Renata whispered to Declan, her voice filling with indignation. "Ruggel called his mother a belligerent old sow."
Wyclif turned to face us at the door. "And she was, no doubt, but I ain't having no goose of a stuffed up priest call her that." He bowed and left.
Chapter 9
The Priests
The priests joined us at mid-day. I met them on the edge of the clearing, Daltorn and Wyntan taking a turn as my honor guard. There were five of them, three women and two men. They wore the gold embroidered red robes of Galiena's Own, though their robes were torn and dirtied in their flight to Reckonwood. Though Galiena's Own had no formal hierarchy, a woman with red-dyed hair seemed to be their leader.
She had large, limpid and and yet concealing blue eyes, and the roots of her hair were blonde. No more than thirty years of age, she had the tiny waist and full breasts and hips so many men seemed to lose their heads for, as well as the sure knowledge of this truth and an appreciation of her own power. When she spoke, she posed prettily, allowing her robe to fall open nearly half way down her torso.
They kneeled in front of me. Irritated and trying not to show it, I waved them up. "There's no need for that. Please don't."
The leader stood first and took my hand. "So, you are the one who has been Chosen by the Good Queen. I can see it in your aura. My name is Malina. Allow me to introduce my comrades." She stepped aside and an elder man stepped up to take my hand. "This is Gronwon. Behind him you see Wind, Fiona, and Ceilan." Wind was a completely bald young man of about twenty years; Fiona, the other woman, was an elder of greater age than Gronwon, and Ceilan, also quite young, had a profusion of freckles and short, curly red hair as natural as Wyclif's.
Red hair was seen as a mark of the Goddess, and many born with this color hair found their way into the service of Galiena. There were others Called to be one of Galiena's Own who dyed their hair this color in honor of our red-haired Goddess, and perhaps some who dyed their hair this color in order to give the appearance of carrying the mark of the Goddess. I gave Malina a speculative glance. She was busy eyeing Wyntan from beneath her lashes, which seemed to be artificially blackened. Wyntan paid no heed, he was in honor guard mode and would lend no undue attention to anything outside of Galiena's Chosen.
I led them all to my tent, offering them a chance to go down to the stream to clean up if they liked, or to use a bucket of warm water I had asked be brought in. They declined the opportunity to rest here on our beds – the final two had been brought in to replace the cots, but welcomed the chance to clean up and eat.
My companions and I sat down to eat with them, and Declan as well. Renata was about, seeing to the serving of the meal and the comfort of the priests, before she and Wyclif sat down in the bent willow chairs to eat their meal. There was just no room at the table.
"What we need is a great hall with rows of tables," Declan said. "I know more of the people here would love to join you for a meal, Lady."
"Maybe we could set up some tables out in the meeting place," I suggested. Declan nodded and stood up. "After lunch." He nodded again and sat back down. I laughed.
Grinning sheepishly, Declan turned to Malina. "We don't have any shelters up for you yet, but we can get one up, or you are welcome to move in anywhere you'll fit."
Malina seemed about to say something, and by her expression it would be rather peevish, but Gronwon spoke up first.
"Oh, that is no matter. Given room, we can call up our own shelter. It's a gift given to some of Galiena's Own. We might also be able to call up that meeting hall for your people, eh, Wind?"
"It wouldn't take us more than a week or two to call up both those things and a small altar-house," Wind agreed. "Gronwon and I are good at calling up walls."
"I didn't know you could do that," Renata said, turning in her chair to face them with interest on her face. "Our village priest could purify water."
"Well, we're all given our own gift when we're Called," Gronwon said. "Malina can also purify water."
"We didn't have a village priest in Berowalt," I said, with a wry smile. "So I'm afraid I don't know much about the gifts of priests."
"Too small," Selas said, half under his breath. "Even for a backwater it was a backwater." He shrugged.
"The priestess in Narwich could tell if you were telling the truth or not," Daltorn said. "She was also friends with our mother."
"More than once that woman and her gift led my mother to order us to pick our own switch," Wyntan said, and the brothers laughed.
"There are five main gifts," Malina said abruptly. "Calling up shelter, purifying water, knowing a lie when it's told, blessing a womb, and calling rain. Some of Her Own have very strong gifts, some mild. I can purify poison to drinkable water, but not everyone with my gift can do so."
"The strength of the gift has little enough to do with the strength of one's relationship with the Goddess," Gronwon said in a mildly chiding voice, and she shot him an angry look. He looked tired, turning his attention back to his food.
"We all know that, Gronwon," she said in a sweet voice.
"Of course you do," he murmured.
"What can you two do?" Selas asked, staring at Ceilan and Fiona.
Fiona smiled, her many wrinkles deepening. "I can nap without warning, so profoundly that my companions may think I'm dead. It's quite fun, actually. But you mean the Goddess' gift. I'm a blesser of wombs, with hundreds of babies named after me."
Ceilan spoke shyly, glancing up at Selas, then his eyes skated away. "I call rain, but I try not to do it, because it always brings lightning."
"You, stick with me," Selas said. "Too bad Banning's off hibernating. It wouldn't surprise me if he could help to refine your gift."
"What, don't want your womb blessed, young man?" Fiona asked. "Only Ceilan is helpful to a warrior such as yourself?" She giggled, a delightful young girl's giggle. "Well, I'll make myself useful in a field hospital. I know herbs, bone-setting, bandaging and surgery as well as midwifery. Not that you'll have many deliveries on a battlefield, but it shows I don't mind blood, swearing or screaming."
"What about the napping?" Selas said.
"Oh, I can keep that away if it's needed. And even if I couldn't, Malina and Ceilan are trained the same as me."
"None of you are from cities destroyed by Iceblade," I said. "You are all from the west, beyond the areas he holds."
Malina nodded. "That's true, and we are all of Her Own that survive in Dragon's Tooth. He sent out assassins. There was a Seer in Placid, where my temple was, who Saw the assassins, though he couldn't See why they were coming. He warned me, told me to get to Reckonwood, and I set out to warn the others."
"But we were all she could get to before the killers struck," Ceilan whispered, his red head bowed. "I had just been Called. Fiona had just began my priest's training, though she'd been teaching me medicine for some years."
"Since he was twelve," Fiona said proudly, then her face fell. "We had six priests in our temple, only Ceilan and I remain. We were going around to visit the sick and pregnant when the assassins struck our temple, Malina found us before they did. We barely escaped."
"So you took charge," I said, giving Malina an approving look.
She nodded. "And I got us all h
ere."
"Did you know Galiena's Chosen awaited you here?" Wyntan asked.
"I didn't," she said, giving him a soft glance from under her dark eyelashes. "We all knew someone had been Chosen, though – we could all feel that toward the end of Fall."
"I knew the Chosen would be here," Gronwon said in his mellow voice. "I am no Seer, but it stands to reason, we're told to come to Reckonwood and someone has been Chosen, the Chosen would be here, in Reckonwood."
"You guessed," Malina said.
"I reasoned," he replied.
She laughed, and the feeling of tension coming from her eased. "Oh, all right, you win. He's been telling me that all along, but I didn't want to place my hopes in it until I saw it with my own eyes. And here you are," she said to me. "Where did you come from? Who are you? What family do you hail from?"
"I am Ada of Berowalt," I said. "I have no family. I am not noble, if that's what you are asking. I am only a field worker who happened to survive the attack of the crows army."
"Oh," she said, her face carefully blank. She attempted a polite smile and failed.
"How wonderful," Fiona said, laughing out loud. "We'd all expected... You see, Laren was Chieftain of her tribe. I'm afraid we've been taught that the next Chosen would also be of a noble line. But here you are, definitely the Chosen, only not noble. I adore a truth that sets a speculation on its ear."
Selas laughed too, giving the wooden table a good smack with his hand, and soon we all joined him, in surprise if nothing else.
Two weeks came and went in a rush of exhaustion and activity. Our small refugee's camp was more of a village, complete with an altar-house and the home of the priests next to it. A great hall had been raised next to the meeting clearing, open to the spring-warm air. Some of the craftspeople had built long half-log tables to fill the middle of the great hall, and an actual carved chair at one end of the hall for me. From my new chair that was thankfully not quite a throne, I could see the red rowan tree. The meeting clearing had been converted to a training field, and the sounds of mock battle and hard training came from that field from dawn to dusk every day.
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