by John Dalmas
* * *
The next day, Macurdy arranged with the town magistrate for a funeral pyre for Tsûlgâx. He also hired the town's principal shaman to preside. When the magistrate asked why, all Macurdy could say was, he'd known the rakutu a long time, and owed it to him.
43 Love Stories
The next day at the crossroads, Vulkan said goodbye to Macurdy. «I discern no vectors that require my attention, and I am quite sure the voitik threat is past.» He paused. «I will not forget you, my friend.»
Macurdy felt very sober. "What will you do?"
«I will retire. I am done in the world, and I have been away from home a long time.»
Macurdy nodded. For Vulkan, retirement would involve dying, leaving his body and going—wherever it was he'd go. "Will I see you again?" he asked.
Vulkan transmitted a sense of grinning. «Of course. Though I will not be in the guise of a great boar. And you will not be in the guise of Curtis Macurdy. But we will know each other.» His eyes were red and his tusks fearsome, but his gaze was benevolent. «Do not dwell on the matter. When the time comes, it will seem entirely natural and good. Meanwhile think of me as I am now. And I will remember you as you are now.»
He turned to Blue Wing, who sat atop a packhorse. «And you, my friend ... we too shall meet.» Then he met Varia's solemn gaze. «As for you, Varia Macurdy, your strength is equal to your beauty. You have undergone much, survived much, and done nothing discreditable. You have my admiration as well as my love.»
Then the giant boar turned and trotted south on the crossroad, his brush of a tail skyward. As they watched, he winked out of sight. Macurdy wasn't sure whether he'd activated his cloak, or if he'd ceased to exist in Yuulith.
After a minute, he and Varia rode on westward, subdued and thoughtful. Their remounts and packhorses followed on the lead rope. Blue Wing flew ahead to scout. It was another cold day, though not cold enough that the horses were frosted with their own breath.
With the peace agreement signed, the great raven network had disassembled. But a precedent had been set, and the experience had enriched the great raven hive mind. Thus Blue Wing hadn't hesitated to relay a message for Varia, to the western emperor at Duinarog. She would, she said, appreciate a letter of credit, and gave her itinerary. Macurdy had already sent a message to Amnevi at the Cloister. He'd like payment for his services, if possible to be picked up at the Sisterhood embassy at Indervars. He'd suggested twenty gold imperials, a remarkably modest claim. He'd already informed her that he had married Varia, Lady Cyncaidh.
Upstream, the West Fork grew ever smaller. Within a few days, they'd crossed over into the Big River drainage, then rode south to Indervars. There they stayed a night at the palace, whose queen was a Sister. The next morning, the Sisterhood's ambassador gave Macurdy twenty gold imperials. After signing for them, he left again with Varia for Duinarog.
There was a lot of time to talk, to explore many subjects. Varia told him a great deal about Cyncaidh, whom she had indeed loved very much. She described in detail the ylf lord's rescue of her, and the long ride to Aaerodh. And their years together. Several times, in the telling, she shed tears, but none for having killed him.
It seemed to Macurdy the ylf would be a hard act to follow.
He in turn told Varia about Melody—how they'd met, their travels, their extremely odd courtship, and their months together on the farm in Tekalos. Her passion, her humor, her temper—her recklessness. And his devastation at her death. In the telling, he came to understand Melody—and the two of them together—better than ever before.
He also filled Varia in more fully on his years in Oregon, and in the army. And all one afternoon reminisced about Mary, Fritzi, and Klara, but especially Mary.
When he'd finished, Varia said it seemed to her that Mary was the great love of his life.
He didn't reply to that until that evening in the King's Inn, at the town of White Oak, in the Outer Marches. There they didn't have to spell the bed, the bedding, and the walls to protect themselves from vermin. The bedding was boiled after each change of guests. The bedroom walls and floors had been scrubbed with a liquid whose piney pungency was still discernible when they moved in. And with every change of guests, the thick featherbeds were spelled by an elderly half-ylf with a fair talent.
The food was superior, too.
But the high point was the bath. The King's Inn was famous for its baths. Varia had been there before, as Cyncaidh's captive. Twenty minutes alone in a bath, and getting clean clothes, had been a major step in her healing. At that time there'd been only two baths, but with the expansion of trade after Quaie's War, a short new wing had been built, all baths. The smaller, of which there were half a dozen, could accommodate four persons. The three larger, the innkeeper said proudly, seated eight each, and the largest, sixteen easily. When the demand was high, the water heaters burned upwards of two cords of oak a day.
Given the terrible winter, and the roads, there weren't many travelers. But what there were took the baths, if they had the money. If for no other reason than to soak in hot water after a day of freezing on horseback.
Varia and Macurdy spent a sybaritic hour in one. It was then he talked about Mary again. "You said she was the great love of my life. I'll tell you, it was beautiful being married to her. She was the sweetest woman, and the best human being on God's green Earth. On my dying day, I'll say the same thing. I wish..." Grief swelled, and he paused till it subsided. "She'd have made a wonderful mother."
They sat silent a long minute, holding hands and soaking. Then Macurdy continued. "While Melody, strong as she was, and tough, and weapons-skilled—she was the most ... vulnerable's the word. She didn't hold anything back. To be loved by her, so wholeheartedly like that—that was a privilege. Sometimes it awed me. And humbled me."
He reached, touched Varia's cheek gently. "But when it's all over, and time to die, I have no doubt. It's you will be the great love of my life. The first, the last, and the greatest."
Then they donned their rented robes and went back to their room.
NOTES
[1]Voitusotar is the collective noun referring to the species as a whole. (The Voitusotar are a tall people.) Voitu refers to a single individual. (The voitu twitched his long ears.) Voitar refers to from two to many individuals, but not to the species as a whole. (All the voitar in the city.) Voitik is the adjective. (Voitik cruelty is legendary.)
THE END
For more great books visit
http://www.webscription.net
