Crown Of Stars - Child Of Flame Part 71

Anne wins. She has the child she wanted, the husband she l.u.s.ted after, but she has kept her body pure, a matter of great importance to her, who thinks of all other human beings as tainted and unworthy. Bernard stays, because he is completely compromised now, because he is guilty, because he has learned the meaning of fear.

He stays. He names the infant after an ancient sorceress he read of in a book years ago while sojourning in Arethousa: Li'at'dano, the centaur shaman, mentioned in the old chronicles many times over many generations. Some called her undying. All called her powerful beyond human ken. In the western tongue the consonants soften to make the baby Liathano.

He calls her Liath.

He stays with the Seven Sleepers, toiling under Anne's unwavering and unforgiving gaze, caring for his beloved child, until the day eight years later when the fire daimones come looking for their missing sister. Time pa.s.ses differently in the upper spheres; an eye-blink may encompa.s.s months and the unfurling of a wing years.

That is when he flees with his daughter. That is when he expends the untapped potential of his own magical powers to lock away her soul and her power, which shine like a beacon, so that no one can follow them. Especially not Anne. Especially not the fire daimones, kin to the woman-creature he loved and murdered.

Did he run to save himself? To save Liath? Or to save the only thing he has left of the woman-creature he loved? Did he lock away Liath's true self to hide her from Anne's machinations, or to conceal her from her mother's kin, so that they could never find her and take her away from him?

Anger was a river of fire, molten and destructive but also cleansing and powerful. She never understood until now how much she despised Da for being weak. At moments she even hated him because she loved him, because she wanted him to be strong when maybe he never could be, because maybe all along without knowing it consciously she guessed that he loved someone else more than he loved her. Because she hated herself for being weak, hated that part of herself, broken and crippled, that had chained her for so long.

The river of the past, that which binds us because it has already woven its chains around us, flowed easily and without any obvious transition into the future, the unreachable destination where we are blinded by possibility, by hope, by unexamined anger, and by fear. She walked into the future with the river of fire streaming around her and she saw King Henry strangled by a daimone as a pretty child resembling Queen Adelheid mounts the imperial throne, her mother standing protectively beside her.

Sister Rosvita, aged and leprous, lies dying in a dungeon. A discarded shoe, its leather eaten away by rats or maybe by her, rests just beyond her outstretched hand.

The Lion, Thiadbold, who more than once showed her kindness, drinks himself into a stupor in a filthy tavern by sipping ale out of a bowl. He has lost both his hands but somehow survived. Isn 't it a worse fate to live as a cripple, helpless except for what leavings others throw to you as to the dogs ?

Ivar on trial for heresy before the skopos. The Holy Mother Anne condemns him and his companions to death, but he smiles, wearily, as if death is the outcome he has been seeking all along. Hanna dead, by her own hand. The wounds that killed her cannot be seen on her skin.

Sanglant, still fighting and always fighting because he will never give up until his last breath, as the she-griffin strikes for his exposed chest.

Blessing stands by a window. Liath scarcely recognizes this magnificent creature, newly come to womanhood, tall like her father and with a creamy brown complexion, eyes green, or blue, depending on how the light strikes them or on the color of gown she is wearing. She is as beautiful as all the promises ever made to a beloved child. Then the door opens, and the girl turns. She shrinks back. Pride and youthful confidence turn to terror as the man who has come to claim her for his bride steps through the door.

"Hugh!"

Liath screamed her outrage as anger bloomed into wings at her back. Her kinsfolk, wings hissing in the aether and voices booming and muttering like thunder, stepped back to give her room as she leaped up and out of the river of fire.

Despite everything, Da had not abandoned her. Nor would she abandon her own child. Never would she abandon her own child.

Yet was it already too late?

Because Da did nothing but run the last years of his life, he had taught Liath to run, to turn away, to hide herself. She couldn't even truly love the ones she wanted to love, because she could not reach out to them, not with her heart entire. She had taken the key and thrown it away long ago, escaping from Hugh, but she hadn't understood then that she had also walled herself away, that the city of memory Da had taught her to build in her mind's eye was another barrier against those who sought to embrace her with friendship and love.

Ivar had never threatened her. But she had seen his infatuation as a threat. She had disdained him because she did not know how to be his friend.

Hanna had given her friendship without asking anything in return, but Liath had walked away from her to go with Sanglant.

Yet she had not even been able to love Sanglant with a whole heart. She had loved him for his body and his charisma but she had never truly known him. He remained a mystery; despite his protestation that he was no onion with layers of complexity and meaning to be uncovered, he was not as simple as all that. No one ever is. She had never looked to see what lay beneath the surface, because the surface was easy enough to polish and keep bright.

Ai, G.o.d, even Blessing. She had watched Sanglant love the baby unreservedly. But she had always held a part of herself back, the crippled part, the part that had never learned to trust.

The part that was afraid of being vulnerable, killed by love, and by hope, and by trust again, and again. And again.

"No," she said, from this height looking down over the glorious palaces and the river of fire, looking down at her kinsfolk gathered in a flock beneath, hovering halfway between the heavy silver sheet of the sky and the river's flashing, molten surface." I'm not ready to leave them behind because I don't even know them yet."

She opened herself to the measure of their wings and let them see into her heart, into the burning bright soul that was the gift her mother had given her." Maybe this will be my home one day," she added, "but it can't be now."

"Child," they said, in love and as a farewell.

What need had they to mourn her leaving? The span of one mortal's years on Earth might pa.s.s in the same span it took to cross one of those shimmering bridges that linked the golden palaces: a thousand steps, or a song. Her soul was immortal, after all, and half her substance was fire.

She could return.

"So be it," she said. Eldest Uncle had taught her that in the secret heart of the universe the elements can be illuminated, touched, and molded. She reached, found fire, and drew out of the invisible architecture of the aether the burning stone that marks the crossroads between the worlds.

Blue fire flared all along its length. She stepped through to find herself landing with a surprisingly hard thump in the midst of flowers, heavenly blues, blood-soaked reds, and so many strong golds and piercing whites that her eyes hurt. Her b.u.t.tocks and hips ached from the impact, and even her shoulders were jarred. She was stark naked, hair falling loose past her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and down her back. In a heap beside her lay her cloak and boots, her clothes, her sword, belt, and knife, and her quiver, although it was empty. All her arrows were missing. Her bow and Sanglant's gold torque lay tumbled on top, as though all this had fallen here in company with her descent.

She was back in the meadow of flowers, in Aoi country.

Still shaking, she reached out to touch the cold, braided surface of the gold torque, frowning as she picked it up, no longer hers to claim. No longer hers to fear and retreat from.

Anne is not my mother.

She laughed out loud, awash in an exhilarating sense of freedom.

"So," said a man's harsh voice not ten paces away, "more than one day and one night have pa.s.sed, Bright One. Feather Cloak's protection no longer shields you. Now I will have your blood to make my people strong."

Startled, she looked up to see fully fifty Ashioi surrounding her, fearsome animal masks pulled down to conceal their faces. Every one held a weapon, and the one in front had lowered his spear to point at her heart.

Cat Mask and his warriors had come to kill her.

HOME.

He had come home, and Adica was here, whole and alive, waiting for him, just as he had hoped and prayed and dreamed. For the longest time he simply held on to her, wanting never to let her go, breathing in the lavender scent of her hair, but at last he became aware of the hounds b.u.t.ting into them and the villagers, around them, waiting to greet him.

That, too, took a while. Even Beor laughed to see him, and he was surprised how happy he was himself to see all these familiar, cheerful faces. His people, now. His home.

He had to make Sos'ka and her comrades known to Adica and Mother Weiwara. In fact, he had to interpret for them all since the Horse people did not speak a tongue known to the tribes of the White Deer folk. The centaurs made a pretty obeisance to Adica, honoring her as a Hallowed One, and it was agreed that they would stay until after the dark of the sun to help protect her and only then return to their own tribe. All the children wanted a ride, and the haughty centaurs relented enough to let the youngsters be helped up onto their backs. Meanwhile, Urtan, Beor, and the other men insisted on showing Alain the hard work the villagers and other work parties had done over the spring, summer, and early autumn.

"See what a fine palisade we've built!" boasted Beor, as though he had achieved a personal victory against the Cursed Ones by hoisting logs into place." Although I notice that you came back only after all the hard work was done."

"Queens' Grave is ringed by a wall!" exclaimed Alain, amazed by how the wood posts changed the aspect of the great tumulus, making it look rather like a slumbering porcupine." How could you have done that in only two seasons?"

"We had work parties from all the other villages, Two Streams, Pine Top, Muddy Walk, Old Fort, Four Houses. Even Spring Water. It took us all summer to build it, and I think we must have felled the forest all the way from here to Four Houses!" All the men laughed, but no one disagreed.

"Who cares about the work we did?" cried Kel." You must tell us all the things you saw!"

"I hope you will," agreed Urtan, chuckling, "if only to keep this fly from buzzing all day. We haven't had a moment's peace from him since you left."

"You should have taken me with you!" protested Kel when all the men laughed." I wouldn't have faltered! When will you tell us the tale of your journey?"

"Patience," replied Alain, laughing with the others, although in truth he was looking around to see where Adica had gone. She had retreated from the village quietly, with all the attention shifting to the centaurs and to him, and he finally spotted her in the distance by the birthing house, finishing some hallowing task.

Urtan chased the other men away, even Kel." Go on," he said.

Alain hurried along the river to the birthing house, the hounds loping alongside, but he was careful not to cross the fence onto ground where only women were granted leave to walk. On the other side, Adica picked flower petals off the ground, expression pensive as she searched among the low gra.s.s for each precious one, those that hadn't blown away. Had she changed so much since the first time he had seen her, or had he?

She had certainly seemed attractive, that day almost a year ago, especially wearing that provocative corded skirt whose every shift along her thighs revealed skin and glimpses of greater mysteries, but he would not have called her pretty, not with a slightly crooked nose, the livid burn scar on her cheek, an overly-generous mouth, and a narrow chin.

Now he knew that she was beautiful.

"Adica."

She looked up. Her smile made her beautiful, the light in her face, the ragged lilt of her voice, the graceful confidence of her movements as she came to embrace him by the fence, the shadow of sadness in her expression that he struggled every moment to wipe away, so that she would know nothing but joy.

"What's this?" asked Alain when he could finally bear to let go of her. He lifted her right hand and studied the lapis lazuli ring adorning her middle finger." This looks very like a ring I once gave to a woman who needed my help."

"So you did. I met her in a vision trance, and she gave it to me. She thought you needed it."

He shuddered, but maybe that was only the cold breeze on his neck." What magic can make a ring travel through visions? Where did you see her? You were in a trance when I saw you last. Ai, G.o.d, I have so many questions. I know now you came safely to Queen Shuashaana's palace, and that she returned you here. Did Laoina return to her tribe? I feared I had lost you, beloved."

"Nay," she said, almost in tears as she buried her face against his chest and just held him. Sorrow and Rage settled down nearby, willing to wait her out. After a while, she was able to go on: she had woken out of her vision trance in the care of Shu-Sha and, after a few days waiting for Alain and recovering, Shu-Sha had sent her home alone through the stone looms." I only got back yesterday. I thought I'd lost you."

"But you did not. I told you I would never leave you. How many times do I have to tell you?" He smiled and kissed her." Tell me about the ring."

She described the trance, but her words did not really make sense to him. Was it truly Liath she had seen? Was Liath dead? Or was Adica simply unable to describe the place he had once known, the halls where n.o.bles walked and feasted and where the church reigned in splendor? Had Adica's vision shown her the future, or the past?

"I thought I heard the prince speak of Liathano," he said, re-'

membering his conversation with the two brothers, "but he was talking of the Holy One, who is called in her own tongue Li'at'-dano."

Adica clapped hands over her ears." I must not hear the holy name, lest it burn me!"

"Nay, beloved, do not be frightened. It was given to me freely. Why can't I share it with you?" He sighed, shaking his head." Maybe I am afraid to say it myself. She told me there was one who would be given her name in the time yet to come. But if that's so-" He shook his head. The only explanation that occurred to him seemed so outrageous, so disorienting, so impossible, that he fled to the refuge of the answer the centaur shaman had given him in the end." I am alive now. Nothing else matters. I will not question the good fortune that brought me to your side, Adica."

She tugged on the ring, to pull it off.

"Nay, you must wear it. The stone will protect you from evil."

"Alain," she began, hesitant, almost choked, "there's something I must tell you." She stopped, looking past him with a sudden expression of relief." Mother Weiwara!"

"I thought you might like help, Hallowed One. I can gather up the herbs and petals you spilled. I know you would like to finish the purification, so you can be alone with your husband sooner." With a smile for Alain, Weiwara crossed the fence and the two women walked away, Adica leaning toward her friend, whispering urgently.

Surely it was not his fault that the wind lifted their murmuring voices and brought them to his ears.

"What must I do? He doesn't know."

"Haven't you told him?"

"I can't bear to. What if it frightens him away from me?"

"Nay, Hallowed One, do not say so. You know that isn't true. The Holy One sent him. He won't desert you."

Adica's answer was lost as the two women ducked inside the birthing house. A moment later Weiwara emerged and, with a dismissive wave at Alain, started picking up the pouches and petals scattered on the ground.

Alain knew a command when he saw one. He retreated to the less complicated companionship of the men, who were engaged at this time of year in various projects preparing the village for win ter. Urtan set him to work with Kel and Tosti binding thatch for the roof of the men's house, which had developed several leaks during the heavy spring rains. From the roof he could look out over the village and up to the tumulus. Most of the older children had been set to making torches, stuffing and binding wood chips with tow flax or hemp and soaking these flambeaux in beeswax or resin. Women sat in the doors of their houses, weaving baskets. Crab apples had been piled up in heaps to sweat. Now and again he saw men walking along the embankment or hauling water or firewood up through the cleft where two ramparts met and overlapped.

But the best part of being up on the roof, besides listening to his companions as they discussed the girls they wanted to marry or just to kiss, was that he could keep an eye on the distant birthing house and then, later, on Adica as her tasks took her around the village. Everyone could tell his mind wasn't on his work. His friends had a good time joking with Alain about just what exactly it was he might do in the evening: guard duty in the tower, wash the geese, sc.r.a.pe skins, sleep.

Their good-natured conversation and cheerful company made the time pa.s.s swiftly, because in truth he was waiting for the afternoon's feast. Because in truth, even the feast, feting the centaurs, welcoming him and Adica home, pa.s.sed with agonizing slowness. Night came quickly at this time of year, and Mother Weiwara made sure to chase them off to bed at dusk even if she could not restrain his friends from singing lewd songs as he tried to slip away, leading Adica by the hand.

Laughing, they ran through the dark village to their house. They needed no lamp to light their way. They needed nothing more than each other as they fumbled with clothing and fell backward onto the bed, the feather mattress giving way beneath them as they pressed together under furs.

What things he said then to her he could not remember nor was even really aware of. Just to touch her was like a delirium, a drowning. Maybe they had drowned twice or even three times before they exhausted themselves enough simply to lie side by side in the darkness, her shoulder fitted under the curve of his arm and her head resting on his shoulder. She had thrown a leg over his hips, and they rested this way for a time as she nuzzled his neck, planting b.u.t.terfly kisses along his throat and occasionally on his lips. Outside, he heard one of the dogs get up and pad restlessly all the way around the house before settling back in at the threshold. He found the ring on her finger and twisted it around, teasing it off over her knuckle and sliding it back on.

"What didn't you tell me?" he asked." There's something you're keeping from me."

Her kisses ceased, and she sucked in a breath as if she had been slugged in the gut.

"I overheard you and Weiwara speaking today. I know other people have said... things. Whispers. Comments. What is it that you fear to tell me?" His voice cracked a little. Now that he had found a home, he hoped for all those things any person wishes for: a mate, shelter and food, a community to live in, and children to follow after him. But perhaps it wasn't to be." I know maybe you tried to tell me before, but I didn't want to hear it. If it's about a child, Adica. You know that no matter what, I will never leave you."

She let all her breath out in a rash." It's true," she said in a low voice, face pressed against his hair as he shifted to try to hear her." I'll never have a child. It's-it's part of the fate laid on me as Hallowed One."

No need to pretend it didn't hurt to have it spoken plainly. He had begged G.o.d to soften Tallia's heart so that they might make a child together. He had prayed for hours, hoping against hope to give Lavastine the grandchild the dying count longed for. But in the end, G.o.d were wiser than the human heart.

He knew now that Adica's soul was as bright as treasure, and that he'd been deceived in Tallia all along, small and crabbed as her soul had been, frightened and selfish and hollow. He pitied Tallia now, seeing how trapped she had become in her own lies. Yet it seemed cruel for G.o.d to deny Adica what she deserved.

He could not argue with fate. Nor would he deepen Adica's sorrow by trying to protest what he had no control over.

"It's true we'll be sad that we can't make a child between us. But surely, beloved, we need not turn away from raising children. G.o.d know that there are orphans enough needing shelter. Wasn't I one of them? Didn't a kind man take me in?"

He wept then, a little. It had been so long since he had thought of Aunt Bel and his foster father, Henri. Had they ever shown him anything but the same kindness they'd given to their own kin? Whatever the truth of his birth, they had raised him with their own. They had opened their hearts. Maybe it was up to him to do the same for another child, now that he had found his true home.

"Did he?" She held him as if she meant to crash his ribs. She was so tense." Did kind folk take you in?"

"So they did. I told you the story. We'll find a child, Adica. Or two children. Or five. Whatever you want. That's how we can serve G.o.d, by giving a home to a child who needs one. That's good enough. But just in case-"

"Just in case?"

He rolled over on top of her, pinning her beneath him." G.o.d help those who help themselves. Urtan says something like, but I can't recall how he says it."

" 'Prayers can't make a field grow unless seeds are thrown in with them.' Oof ! You're crushing me. What does that have to do with-" She gasped as his fingers tweaked a nipple.

"Just so," he agreed." Maybe a child won't come from your womb, but there's a certain ritual a man and woman must go through to get a child for themselves, and I don't think we ought to neglect it."

"Again?" She laughed.

Again.

Morning came. The day pa.s.sed uneventfully. Adica had so many duties that he barely got to see her. At dawn she rose to welcome the sun; after this she meditated up at the stone loom, in practice for the great weaving that she and the other Hallowed Ones would weave in only seventeen days. At midday they ate, and all afternoon she tended to the villagers or to the visiting warriors camped up on the hill, ministering to the sick, chasing away the evil spirits that thronged around the village, checking the newly slaughtered swine for disease, reading entrails for signs of good and bad fortune, watching the flights of birds for clues about the course and severity of the upcoming winter.

So the next day pa.s.sed as well, and the one after. There were acorns to be gathered, swine and geese to be fattened up before the winter slaughter forced them to choose which would be killed and which kept through the cold season. More adults, mostly young men. walked in to Queens' Grave every day from the other villages, sent to guard the Hallowed One. Alain helped build shelters for them behind the safety of the embankments. He took his turn at watch, and in the afternoons tried with Urtan's and Agda's help to build a catapult while nearby Beor trained his growing war band how to fight with staves, halberds, and clubs. Bark or skins sewn together over a lattice of tightly interwoven sticks made crude shields.

The trickle became a flood as more warriors and, increasingly, whole families with their flocks walked from the nearby villages to crowd in to Queens' Grave, setting up an entire village of crude shelters within the safety of the ramparts. Everyone expected the Cursed Ones to attack as the days grew shorter and the nights colder. Alain discussed with Sos'ka and her companions the various ways the Cursed Ones often attacked: at dawn, on the wings of fog, just before sunset, now and again at night. Beor and the other respected war leaders listened, interjecting comments occasionally that Alain translated. The big man's hands were always busy, binding spear points to hafts, fletching arrows, grinding the tips of antlers into sharp points. Pur the stone knapper now had two other stone knappers working with him as well as five apprentices. The first catapult had a hitch in it, so they started building a second. Torches burned all night along the palisade wall and up on the ramparts, and they had to make numerous expeditions into the forest to haul in cartloads of wood or armfuls of cow parsley and hemlock whose hollow stems, stuffed with fuel, made efficient little torches easy to hold in a hand. They hauled and stored so much water that he thought they might drain the river dry.

On the eighth day after he had returned, the centaurs proved their worth as sentries by driving off a small party of Cursed Ones who had come to lurk at the edge of the woods. After that, the entire community stayed on alert. Folk rarely left the safety of the palisade and then only in groups of ten or more, even if they only walked the short path leading from the village gates to the outer ring of ramparts.