by Carol Buhler
And except when I attended my daughter's graduation or my son's engagement party and wedding or other Lill family get-togethers. Joldon had been much too small to go with me to family obligations.
Not anymore!
As Joldon bounced back to me, Memmyon asked if we were going to participate in the afternoon's rolo game. I said yes even though I wasn't very good at the sport. Although I was trim and in great condition, I hadn't played rolo for almost fifty years when Joldon began begging to join the games. Always the oldest player on the field, I just couldn't move as fast as the young ones. Joldon loved playing, however, so I never denied him the chance. And he always forgave me the missed shots I caused.
Normally, rolo teams consisted of six don and six reeth players with melded pairs separated between teams to negate advantages over non-melded players. "At least this afternoon," I reminded myself, "all players will be mind-mated so we can play as a pair." I played better with Joldon than against him.
After lunch in the mansion—Soreladon ensured I had the freshest grasses to enjoy—we gathered with the other players on the rolo field that covered the north end of Center bluff. Best friends, Joldon and Raldon were still fiercely competitive and maneuvered to be on opposite teams. Since they were the youngest and least experienced of the group, the team leaders expected them to be the weakest players and vied not to be stuck with them. I thought they were wrong but kept my peace. The captains' attitude meant the boys got their way.
Today, Joldon and I were chosen for the red team; he draped the red ribbon over my neck and donned the red shirt. Next to us, Raldon pulled on his blue shirt; the wide blue ribbon already stretched taunt against Memm's chest. Before we moved onto the field, Joldon tied a knot into my ribbon at my withers; rolo ribbons were always too big for me and interfered with my forelegs if we didn't shorten them.
As we moved onto the field, Joldon and I took our assigned positions as rear guard; Raldon and Memm moved down field to a similar position for their team. When the referee kicked the ball in from the sideline, one of red team's forwards caught it with his foreleg, then kicked it toward the far goal. Joldon sprang to the ground and ran after the leaders leaving me to defend the goal.
In rolo, don players were allowed to use heads, hands, feet, and knees to move the ball downfield but could only carry it for three strides before passing it to another teammate. We reeth could use heads, wings, and all four feet, but kicking another player, don or reeth, caused a foul and a penalty. When Joldon and I began playing, they'd added a new rule, especially for me: I was not allowed to "talk" to any don but my own mind-mate, and then, only if we played on the same team.
I spread my wings and kept a close eye on the ball while Joldon darted among heavy reeth bodies. He snatched it from under a black reeth's nose and tossed it underhanded to one of the red-garbed girls who leapt onto her mind-mate. The pair dodged past Memm, headed at them on a collision course, and the girl bounced the ball to a rider mounted on a palomino. Memm, despite his bulk, was exceptionally light on his feet; he spun and crashed a shoulder into the palomino mare—legally not a kick. The rider lost her balance and dropped the ball. Raldon, on foot, caught it on the rebound.
A bay and a chestnut raced toward me, clearing a path for Raldon. He ran three steps, bounced the ball off the bay's hip, caught it on the recoil, and ran three more steps. By then, the chestnut's mate had remounted to receive the ball.
"Jump, Lillith," Joldon shouted into my mind.
The rider dropped the ball in front of his reeth-mate and just as the chestnut kicked it with a right front hoof, I leapt upward to block it with my chest. It dropped abruptly; with a wing, I flicked it to the left. A red-team runner grabbed it and was instantly off in the other direction. Shaking with excitement, I snorted several times; I'd successfully defended the goal!
I'd barely gathered my wits again before two opposing team pairs were charging toward me. Someone had stolen the ball and the two riders passed it back and forth to each other, keeping it soaring, out of reach from our runners. Joldon leapt onto the rump of a sandy-colored reeth wearing a red ribbon, then jumped high into the air to snatch the ball almost out of the blue rider's hands. He fell and rolled, somehow avoiding the stomping hooves, shot to his feet and ran toward the far goal.
I held my breath as blue-ribboned reeth raced after him, but he dodged around the goal keeper and threw the ball into the net. As old as I was, I still cavorted around with my team, players slapping each other with hands or wings, shouting or whinnying with joy.
Fortunately, the time keeper called a break. I was thoroughly winded and took advantage of the two-minute pause to calm my racing heart and laboring lungs. "Rolo is really fun when we win!" I said to Joldon.
Of course, we hadn't won yet, but the next two periods went well for red team and we finished the game three to two in our favor. Neither Joldon nor I saved or made any more goals but our team leader praised our playing. By the time we got back to the palace, Joldon was bursting to relate the game, blow by blow, to his parents and I was more than willing to simply rest and listen.
**
Towards the end of Joldon's tenth-year, a second royal child was born. Although a cousin, Joldon claimed the baby as his little sister due to the close friendship that existed between the two sets of royal parents.
Saradon arrived with a mass of black hair and very dark eyes. Her mother let Joldon hold the baby for a bit, after he'd safely taken a seat in an armchair. He rattled on to me about how beautiful she was and how much he loved her, sending me images of a tiny fist curling around his little finger and a mouth puckered as if for a kiss.
During her first year, Joldon spent nearly every moment he wasn't studying at Saradon's house, encouraging her to sit up, then crawl, walk, and finally talk. His infatuation came to an abrupt end when, at the age of eighteen months, she called a shy young filly to meld.
"What does she need a reeth-mate for?" he asked me indignantly. "She has me."
"Would you deny her the happiness we two share?"
He stopped ranting and looked at me with surprise. "Oh." He said not another word as he buried his head in the corner of my neck.
We spent much less time at Saradon's home after that, but the damage I'd failed to anticipate had already occurred. The royal parents and the Don Speaker's Council came to an agreement that, when the time came, Joldon and Saradon would marry and reunite the two branches of the royal line. Stupid to expect two young people to be attracted to each other thirty years in the future. No one asked my opinion.
Joldon's father was strong-willed and usually pushed through whatever he wanted, among his family, and with the Speaker's Council. Saradon's parents, Sardon and Suridon, although just as royal as Lord Joedon, were the retiring type who never thought to stand up to him. And the three reeth-mates, Lord Joedon's Finnyon, Lady Soreladon's Qurrail, and Sardon's Sellyon, did not want to hear my thoughts on the matter, either. I was just the child’s mind-mate, not in a position to voice an opinion. The betrothal was recorded in the council records without Joldon's or Saradon's input.
"If this plan survives the test of time," I told Lillyon, "I'll be surprised."
Chapter 4
Although we often stopped at Saradon's house to bring her a treat, Joldon became less and less tolerant over the next four years. When she begged to come with us, his father would order us to take her over our objections. And she acted just like any little sister would—full of questions and needing to be helped with everything. I had a younger sister myself and remembered how she'd tag along and spoil my fun when I'd been young. But Lord Joedon didn’t want to hear complaints of younger sisters from me.
Joldon's friends resented Saradon’s presence, especially Raldon. "Why can't we ditch her?" he whined one hot afternoon when the boys wanted to go swimming in the lake. “I never have to bring my little sister along and she’s older than Sara!”
"I can't just leave her here!" Joldon protested, frowning at the dark-hair
ed five-year-old sitting in the grass smiling up at him. "She's too young for the lake."
"Send her home with her mind-mate, then," Raldon insisted. "We don't want her." He swirled toward Saradon and shouted. "Go home. You're not wanted."
Sara burst into tears; her mind-mate took one menacing step toward Raldon and was instantly blocked by Memm. Seconds later, we reeth heard the word from Lord Joedon's reeth-mate Finnyon. "Don't you dare desert Sara! Find something she can do with you." His tone made it sound as if they thought Memm and I would actually allow the boys to abandon her. Not the first time, we exchanged looks of frustration.
Needless to say, after several instances of this treatment from powers that be, some of the boys stopped joining Joldon in our excursions. Raldon, however, began to torment the girl. One weekend—she was seven—we'd gathered at Raldon's so the boys could help paint the reeth section of the new home his parents were building. We reeth-mates were grazing nearby while the children wielded their brushes. A shriek brought my head up: Raldon held Sara immobile, her black braids dangling into a bucket of bright red paint!
The ramifications hit all the boys, even though Raldon was the culprit. When Sara's mother had to cut off the braids—the paint wouldn't come out—four boys were confined to their homes for several months, including Joldon. Once they were all released from their punishment, only Raldon and Memmyon were still willing to go on adventures with Joldon and me.
**
During the week, Joldon crammed as much information into his brain as he could, working on language, reading, writing, and mathematics with his mother, and illusions, history, politics and self-defense with his father. Our days were busy as I absorbed the studies with him. I could never, of course, read a book by myself, but I could see the writing through Joldon's eyes. I found don history fascinating, if not always accurate compared to reeth history as passed down through our recorders' tales.
On the weekends, Lord Joedon encouraged his son to explore the mountains we lived in and become familiar with the villages, canyons, bodies of water and cliff faces of our land. Well warned about the dangerous humans in the lower valleys, we always took care to not be seen. For the most part, the boys' fathers allowed us to go without supervision, especially since Lillyon came along. After all, my husband was charged with teaching young reeth the boundaries we had to observe. And gradually, Lord Joedon granted me the favor of trusting my judgment in quelling Joldon's wilder starts.
When Sara joined us, Joldon took care to watch over her and evidently, Raldon had learned a valuable lesson with the paint. He never physically touched her, but teased unmercifully. He turned her name into a song he'd sing nasally: "Saradon, Saradon, Why aren’t you gone?" She'd grow furious and try to hit him but he always slipped away.
Joldon never stooped to Raldon's foolishness, but he didn't do anything to stop it either. Outings were better without Sara.
**
After Joldon's fifteenth birthday, Lord Joedon declared his son ready to attend the monthly Speaker's Council sessions with him. Reeth were not allowed within the council chamber; I listened through Joldon to don policy being made and couldn't help but become interested. Other reeth, although not overtly active in don politics, certainly wielded influence through their mind-mates and I realized I would someday have to assume that responsibility. I'd better learn more about government.
Most reeth paid little attention to don politics. I'd always thought that what the council decided did not affect the herds of reeth living within our mountains. When the one major decision had been made—to withdraw from contact with the humans four hundred years earlier—it had been a joint resolution between don and reeth leaders. My "forced" attendance during Joldon's teen years brought me to understand that Council decisions could very well affect the Lill family, at least, and I became determined to learn as much as I could.
Joldon had been attending for probably ten months when a debate came up involving the vast grasslands north of the Sapphire Sea. Don had harvested from that region for centuries to provide quality feed during the mountains' dry months. Some non-melded don brought a motion to discontinue the portion of the annual gather that ranged north of the sea due to encroaching human settlements in the area. I suddenly heard numerous reeth voices in opposition, urging their mind-mates to contest the motion. Lord Joedon's Finnyon, pro-gathers at the sea, and Tallyon, mind-mate of the opposition's leader, even argued vociferously.
Eventually, the motion failed, to my relief, but that debate brought Lillyon and me into active politics. Although Finnyon, and therefore Lord Joedon, tended to discount my input—I’m just a mare—he did not ignore my husband's. I found Tallyon to be a more open-minded thinker, willing to at least carry my views to his mind-mate.
When the next Gather came, everyone flew to the grasslands for four days of hard labor. Don scythed the tall, slender-leafed grass, just coming into its peak of nutrition, while femm raked it into huge piles and tied bundles together. Joldon and his father worked side by side with matching wide swaths; Soreladon heaped piles on Qurrail and me to ferry back to the huge Center storage pits where Raldon and his father unloaded and stacked.
Just as I landed from one of my flights, I heard a scream, not of pain but fury. Raldon had untied a huge sheaf of grass and allowed it to semi-bury Sara. She shot out of the grass spluttering with rage, hair awry, and covered with prickly stalks. Although Raldon backed away, full of apology, I easily felt him gloating at making her look foolish.
Sara leapt on her mind-mate and accompanied me back to where Joldon was working, muttering hateful words about her nemesis the whole way. Once we landed, she hopped down and helped Soreladon as best she could.
On the last day of the Gather, everyone was feeling the strain although the storage bins had filled nicely and the upcoming winter dry season would not leave us hungry. We'd moved to the farthest reaches north that we dared harvest without being seen by humans when I saw Joldon stop abruptly. His head came up and he stared across the field at a young, dark-haired don I didn't recognize. I followed his mind and felt a searing loathing emanating from the other.
"Who is that?" Joldon asked his father.
Lord Joedon followed Joldon's gaze. "Don't pay any attention to him," he said gruffly. "That's Pildon. He's a surly fellow, always against whatever I'm trying to push through council." He leaned on his scythe and turned his eyes back to his son. "He used to be a reasonable don but when his parents were killed—about fifteen, sixteen years ago—he turned sullen, unfriendly. He's nothing for you to worry about."
Joldon nodded and went back to work, his thoughts churning over the loathing he and I both felt from the young don. After that day, Joldon saw Pildon often but they never spoke, and the other’s revulsion didn’t abate.
**
As Lord Joedon continued to involve his son in council sessions, and included him in political conferences and meetings, Joldon threw himself into learning about government with the same enthusiasm he'd devoted to creating illusions. And so did I. We memorized laws and watched Lord Joedon intently preparing for Joldon's future leadership role. Activities such as playing rolo, exploring canyons, and rowdy outings came to an end, with only an occasional day jaunt.
Lillyon and I thought most of what concerned the don speakers was foolish to fight about—what date the next Gather would be held, who should be in charge of keeping the pathways cleared, whether or not so-and-so-don should be allowed to update his home; how to fix the broken drainage system—but the various speakers took themselves and their power seriously, as did Lord Joedon. Since my mind-mate would someday have to deal with these prickly politicians, or their heirs, we studied their stands and how they presented their positions.
One day, during a break in the heavy schedule, Joldon got a group together to tour the abandoned mines of Labyrinth, checking with the local oldsters to determine which were still safe to enter. The small group of teenagers, including Saradon, gathered outside one shored-up entrance with la
nterns, rugged clothing, and knee high boots. With the opening too small for reeth to enter, our mind-mates strode happily out of sight, leaving us to graze or stand worrying in the meadow in front.
I'm sure the mind-mates followed along mentally just as I did—we all knew at once when Sara slipped and fell in a murky hole. She evidently exploded back out of the water screaming and hurling gobbets of mud at Raldon. When the group appeared in the entrance several moments later, Sara's face, hair and clothes dripped mucky water. Raldon was coated, head to toe, with sludge and barely hiding his laughter.
Everyone quietly mounted; we flew back to Center in total silence, and parted for our various homes. That evening, Joldon was called to the Sar palace to give his version of the tale and in the end, Sara was confined to her home for losing her temper and acting like a hoyden. I wasn't there. I didn't see. But I doubted she'd acted without provocation and felt sorry she was punished for something I was convinced Raldon had started. However, none of the royals asked my opinion.
Chapter 5
We celebrated Joldon's twentieth birthday with a confirmation of the meld-ceremony. Lord Joedon again invited the entire Lill family to witness. In the last twenty years, both my parents had passed away from old age, my father only days after my mother, his forever love. I especially missed their presence during this ritual. Neither had suffered and I was glad of that. And, neither had had to endure life without the other. That's the way I wanted to go: at the same time as Lillyon. The probability of that happening is small, I thought as I stood silently by my husband’s side waiting for Lord Joedon and Lady Soreladon to walk out of the mansion with their son. Being melded meant whatever happened to Joldon or me would also happen to the other. Unless we were actually standing together at the time, Joldon, me, and Lillyon dying simultaneously was highly unlikely.
