Pegasus Part 18

She knew it was coming; they had said their real good-byes the night before, but she and her father and a few of the courtiers went out in the cool wet dawn to watch the pegasi spread their wings and leap into the air. Usually there was no formal leave-taking, but this time, her father said, was special, and so the humans would see the pegasi off; but he looked at his daughter with worry in his eyes.

It's only a week, said Ebon. said Ebon. I'll be back. I'll be back. He sounded subdued, not at all like his usual self. He sounded subdued, not at all like his usual self.

I know, she said. she said. It's only a week. It's only a week.

He said, At least you get to sleep in one of your great human At least you get to sleep in one of your great human beds beds again. again.

She'd missed being outdoors under the sky the night before. Her bedroom had felt small and cramped, although the ceiling was better than twice her height above her. She'd leaned on the bal.u.s.trade that had in a way started it all, the bal.u.s.trade Ebon had flown in over and landed, skittering, on her bedroom floor, the night of her twelfth birthday, four years and several centuries ago.

She had leaned out as far as she could over it, till the rain ran down her face and made her sneeze, trying to breathe air that wasn't in a room, thinking that the palace was so huge that even the air around it felt like house air, wondering if she could take a blanket out and sleep in one of the pavilions, knowing that she couldn't, for the same reasons that Ebon was going home tomorrow. She had to appear completely normal, completely untouched by the last three weeks, completely as she had been when the king had allowed her to leave her human home and visit her bondmate at his home in the pegasi lands. Bondmate, she'd thought. Bondmate or bondfriend-that's what the pegasi always call it. It's much better than the silly formal human Excellent Friend.

The Caves had never felt as stifling as the palace did now.

She wondered where Ebon was, if he was asleep. She knew that despite the openness of their annex the pegasi often wandered out into the parkland and on rainy nights might sleep in one of the pavilions. Which was why she could not. It would not matter if she chose an empty pavilion; the humans who had not liked her journey would not like her sleeping as the pegasi slept after she returned. I would not be sleeping as the pegasi sleep, she thought. I don't have wings to keep me warm; and my neck is too short to let my head be comfortable without a pillow.

She'd grow used to sleeping in a bedroom again-she thought, as the rain ran down her neck and wetted her nightgown-but some of the change in her was permanent, even if she did not know herself which part of it that was. Would she still be able to talk to other pegasi ? Could she risk trying? What if what made the pegasus shamans ill now made her ill? Was there the tiniest, most minuscule, invisible reason reason for Fthoom's aversion to any closeness between human and pegasus ? She remembered Dorogin's eyes.... for Fthoom's aversion to any closeness between human and pegasus ? She remembered Dorogin's eyes....

She did not want to remember Dorogin's eyes.

She thought of Redfora, and Oraan. For a moment she could taste Redfora's honey-syrup on her tongue. She had gone back to bed and curled round that taste, that memory, and fell asleep, her wet hair soaking into the pillow.

Now she wanted to ask Ebon which pavilion they'd slept in, the night before, but she didn't ask. She told herself, if I knew, I would go visit it, and he would not be there.

Yes, she said. she said. With lots of pillows. With lots of pillows.

And hot water for all those baths, said Ebon. said Ebon. You wouldn't like bathing in our ponds in winter. You wouldn't like bathing in our ponds in winter.

Her father came up beside her and put an arm around her. She touched Ebon's nose, briefly, barely long enough for her fingertips to register the velvet of it, and one of his feather-hands reached forward and swept over her cheek. Then she stepped back, closer into the circle of her father's arm, and Ebon turned away and joined the other pegasi-all but Lrrianay, who stood at Corone's shoulder, for he was staying at the palace. Only Guaffa was carrying anything; she recognised her drai, rolled up and lashed round his neck. The eleven pegasi who were leaving trotted, cantered . . . and flew. She knew it was only her eyes that made Ebon's leap into the air the most beautiful. The backdraught of their wings brought the scent of their land to her: she had not realised there was a characteristic smell-a gra.s.sy, flowery, earthy smell-she didn't remember noticing it on her arrival there. Perhaps that's the smell of spring, she thought. What does summer smell like, autumn, winter? I would rather know than have hot water for baths. rolled up and lashed round his neck. The eleven pegasi who were leaving trotted, cantered . . . and flew. She knew it was only her eyes that made Ebon's leap into the air the most beautiful. The backdraught of their wings brought the scent of their land to her: she had not realised there was a characteristic smell-a gra.s.sy, flowery, earthy smell-she didn't remember noticing it on her arrival there. Perhaps that's the smell of spring, she thought. What does summer smell like, autumn, winter? I would rather know than have hot water for baths.

Sylvi found that her legs were shaking, and she put her own arm around her father's waist, to hold herself upright. They remained standing like that for a long minute, Lrrianay standing motionless behind them, till the pegasi had disappeared into the dawn twilight. Until Sylvi was sure her legs would hold her and she could let go, and speak lightly and aimlessly to the courtiers who gathered round the two of them; and she still kept one hand on the back of one her father's tall hounds, for balance, for the small consolation of warm fur.

She exchanged a look with Lrrianay, but neither of them spoke.

That night again she leaned on the railing of the window Ebon had flown through on the night of her twelfth birthday, leaned out till the air against her face felt cool and smelled of plants, not of wood smoke and laundry soap and furniture wax and potpourri. After a minute or two she sighed, went and fetched a chair, and sat on the railing with her feet on the chair. She was uncomfortably aware of her own body: the way it balanced upright and folded in the middle: the curious position it took to sit on a railing with its feet on a chair. And the usefulness of the strong hands and long bony fingers to clasp the railing.... I'm back, back, she thought. I'm she thought. I'm home. home. They're They're all all like me here. She let go with one hand and examined it, spreading the fingers, rotating the wrist to inspect both the palm and the back. like me here. She let go with one hand and examined it, spreading the fingers, rotating the wrist to inspect both the palm and the back.

He'll be here again in seven days, she said to herself. Six and a half. And I'm human, and we're built like this. We can't help it.

There was a soft knock on the door. Sylvi dropped her hand hastily, as if she were doing something forbidden; but she seemed to have mislaid the power of human speech. She opened her mouth and no words came. She had spent all day talking and talking and talking.... The door opened gently, and her mother put her head through. "May I come in?"

"Of course," Sylvi said, surprised into remembering. She slid down off the railing as her mother closed the door behind her and looked thoughtfully at her daughter.

"Not 'of course,' " said the queen. "Not any more. Although I'm not sure when the change happened. Maybe only in the last three weeks."

Sylvi's eyes, to her horror, filled with tears. She stiffened against them, and blinked till her eyes burned. Her mother said nothing; she had made a gesture toward her daughter, but drew back again at the expression on Sylvi's face. At last Sylvi said, "How can everything change in three weeks? Three little weeks."

Her mother smiled. "Sometimes they change in a moment."

Sylvi thought of hearing Ebon's voice in her head for the first time: I I know know that, that, he had said. he had said. Aren't you Aren't you excited excited, or are you just a dull stupid human? or are you just a dull stupid human? "Yes. Sometimes they do." "Yes. Sometimes they do."

Her mother drifted across the room and sat on the foot of Sylvi's bed. "Can I do anything for you? Anything to-to help you come home again."

"Oh," said Sylvi. "Is it that obvious?"

"That you're wandering around like a lost soul?" said her mother. "Possibly only to your father and me. And maybe Ahathin; it's hard to guess what he knows. And Glarfin. He knows everything."

Ahathin is a magician, Sylvi thought. We are not all bad, Redfora had said: Don't make that mistake. I wonder, Sylvi thought, what would happen if Ahathin tried to cross the border into Rhiandomeer?

Real life began again tomorrow: real life, including lessons and projects. She wondered what sort of a report she would be expected to provide out of her trip to Rhiandomeer-she'd welcome a plain return to her work on dams and bridges, but she knew she wouldn't be let off so easily. Danacor would be home tomorrow; he'd been held up in Darkford by a report of ladons. She would be glad to see him; she loved all her brothers, but he was the most . . . she couldn't think of the word. He had that quality that their father did, that if he was present, then anything that needed to be fixed would be fixed.

Neither he nor her father could fix her-but how would she wish to be fixed? Not even a magician can turn you into a pegasus, so you can sleep in a pavilion and visit the Linwhialinwhia Caves for your feast days, discover if you have a gift for weaving, or sculpting, or paper-making, or story-telling . . . so you can fly fly. Not even a magician can give you wings. There were several little sky holds on shelves and tables in her bedroom; she kept picking them up and putting them down as if they were an answer to a question, but the wrong answer.

She had spoken only briefly to Ahathin: he had come up to her yesterday evening at the reception before the court dinner, made his magician's salutation and said, "Welcome home, princess."

"I am made glad by your greeting," she said formally, very conscious of Ebon at her shoulder-suddenly made conscious again of the fact that Ahathin almost never wore his Speaker sticks; he was not wearing them this evening.

"That is a very fine robe," he said. "The topazes are like tiny suns."

She could feel her heart lift and her face smile as she said, "It is very fine, isn't it?" But she looked at him as she said it, and even though he was smiling at her she thought, How did he know that was the perfect thing to say? Is it just what anyone would say? Or is it that he's a magician?

"It hasn't mattered, this first day or two," her mother continued. "You're allowed to be tired. Even your father-even Danny-comes home from a long journey tired. And you've done very well-that little speech when you arrived was just right-"

"The robe helped," said Sylvi hastily, feeling selfish and ungrateful. "It's the most gorgeous thing-and you know it's always been my favourite-"

"Yes, I know," said her mother. "And it's not worth losing Ebon even for a week, is it?"

Sylvi stared at her mother. "I-oh-well, maybe for a week," she said, trying to make a joke.

Her mother smiled, but it was an unhappy smile. "I hope we've done what's best," she said, "your father and I, about you and Ebon."

Sylvi said as calmly as she could, although her heart was beating frantically, "There's never been anything to do about Ebon and me, from the day of the binding."

"Yes," said her mother. "That's what we've always believed-your father in particular, because of his relationship with Lrrianay. You know I can't talk to Hirishy beyond 'I think the day will stay fair' and 'the flowers in your mane are very pretty,' although Minial learnt a pattern she uses for her knitting by asking Hirishy about plaiting ribbons into manes and tails. You can show things sometimes when you can't say them. But talking to a pegasus has always seemed to me a bit like talking to a tree or the palace-it's not surprising that we can't. Their minds and ours work so differently-of course we need Speakers. The surprise is the Alliance.

"But Cory feels pa.s.sionately that there is something wrong about the fact that we cannot speak clearly to each other-and he believes Lrrianay feels the same. And that they both feel that the future of both our peoples may depend on our being able to talk to each other. . . ."

Sylvi held her breath, but her mother asked no leading questions. There was a fraught silence; the queen stared at her lap, and as the silence went on Sylvi could see her changing her mind about what she was going to say. You weren't made the youngest life colonel of the Lightbearers without knowing how to deal with awkward situations, even when they were caused by your daughter.

The queen found what she was looking for and smiled reminiscently. "You know the story about Lrrianay being Witness at our wedding?"

Sylvi did. The pegasi of a human couple to be married attend the wedding although they take no active part. Ordinarily the heir would have his sovereign as Witness, but, Corone had said, his mother blesses them twice, she doesn't have to be Witness too. Corone wanted to make Lrrianay his Witness; the Witness doesn't have to talk, the presence at the man or the woman's side is is the witnessing. There was a spectacular uproar. The senators all said that it wasn't that the Witness the witnessing. There was a spectacular uproar. The senators all said that it wasn't that the Witness didn't didn't talk but that he talk but that he could could if the man's (or the woman's) honour was questioned. Corone said that if they were willing to accept an heir so shaky that his honour could be questioned successfully at his own wedding with his mother the queen looking on, they deserved what they got, but if they could find an instance anywhere of the future sovereign's right to marry and have children being disputed since his family took the crown over two hundred years ago, he would have the first senator as Witness. if the man's (or the woman's) honour was questioned. Corone said that if they were willing to accept an heir so shaky that his honour could be questioned successfully at his own wedding with his mother the queen looking on, they deserved what they got, but if they could find an instance anywhere of the future sovereign's right to marry and have children being disputed since his family took the crown over two hundred years ago, he would have the first senator as Witness.

Of course they couldn't find an example-he'd have checked first. The senators turned to the queen, who said that she thought he had a point, that Lrrianay would be an ornament to the proceedings and she wasn't going to interfere. That didn't end the matter, but Corone was young and fierce in those days, and Lrrianay was his Witness.

"The entire wedding felt like a battlefield-so I was perfectly at ease, of course," said the queen,"although I felt a little embarra.s.sed that my Witness was the completely uncontroversial choice of my elder sister. But I'd rather dreaded the enormity of the heir's wedding. I told Cory I suspected him of inventing a skirmish to make his military bride comfortable, and he said it had been a consideration." The queen's smile grew, till Sylvi couldn't resist smiling back."What is not generally known, I believe, is that your father and I were awake till dawn on our wedding night . . . discussing the pegasi. Discussing the pegasi isn't all all we did, mind you, but we might have had some sleep if the pegasi and the Alliance hadn't come into it. we did, mind you, but we might have had some sleep if the pegasi and the Alliance hadn't come into it.

"Fifteen years-and three sons who can't talk to their pegasi-after we were married, you were born. And now here you are. You can talk to Ebon as easily as you can talk to me."

"Danacor can talk-has some sense of Thowara," said Sylvi. "Like Dad. Danny says it's like a thief breaks into his mind at night when he's asleep and steals the pegasus words he learnt that day, so when he goes to look for them, the next time he's with Thowara, knowing they should be there, they're gone."

The queen took a moment to answer. "I don't think Danny's connection with Thowara is as strong as your father's with Lrrianay, but that may only be they have not been together for as long. But Cory's link with Lrrianay is still nothing like yours with Ebon-your binding was like the opening of some great riverwork, and the water poured into the new channel.... And the only disadvantage is that you can't do without him."

Sylvi didn't try to deny it. "And that"-she didn't want to say one particular name aloud-"some people don't like it."

"All those people who tried to stop you going, yes," said her mother. "But you are thinking about Fthoom, aren't you? He is not the only one. But he is the worst. If we hadn't had Fthoom's creatures whispering in ears, I don't think the senate would have caused so much trouble." She hesitated. "I think you had better know: there is a pet.i.tion collecting signatures in the senate and among the blood asking for Fthoom to be reinstated."

She had forgotten. Lucretia had told her this long ago, in her previous life, the life before she had been to Rhiandomeer. There were enough people who wanted Fthoom back-Fthoom, who was the most powerful magician of his generation-that there were signatures on a pet.i.tion to try and force the king's hand. She wondered if anyone who signed the pet.i.tion had been to a fete where she had gone with Ebon; if any of those signatures belonged to someone who had asked Ebon a question, or whose child or grandchild or niece or nephew Ebon had given a pony ride. She had forgotten the pet.i.tion-she had wanted to forget the pet.i.tion-but she could not forget the look on Fthoom's face the day after her twelfth birthday, after she'd climbed down from her chair and said No. No. "Has anyone ever been-unbound?" Sylvi said. "Has anyone ever been-unbound?" Sylvi said.

Her mother looked at her in surprise and distress. "I don't think so. There's a paragraph in the treaty somewhere about it, but I don't think it's ever been used."

But there's never been a bond like mine with Ebon, thought Sylvi. "Have you ever heard of Redfora and Oraan?"

"No-o," said her mother slowly. "Who are they?"

" They're a story the pegasi tell," Sylvi said, who had decided beforehand what she would say in answer to this question. "They're supposed to be bondmates who could talk to each other."

"I'd've heard if such a story had been unearthed," said the queen."It hasn't. What a pity. It's just what we want, isn't it? It's interesting that the pegasi have such a story and we do not." She gave her daughter a long look."Try not to worry. I'm not looking forward to what Fthoom has to say either, because there will probably be something in it we will have to take into account, but those of us who are bound now will stay as we were bound."

Sylvi's heart, which had begun to slow down to its normal pace, heard the tone of her mother's voice and speeded up again. "What about Fthoom?"

"He has asked for an appointment with the king."

"And you already know what he's going to say."

"We know your father's gamble hasn't worked, yes. Did any of us ever really think it would?" she added, almost as if speaking to herself. She sighed, and after a moment went on: "Which bears on what you and I need to talk about. Your birthday party is in nine days-two days after Ebon's return. And you must not only appear utterly, completely normal for the next seven days-exactly as you were before you visited the peg-Rhiandomeer, you must not change by the flicker of an eyelash when you have Ebon with you again, and at your party. And I think perhaps you should not wear your inspiring new robe for all of that time."

Sylvi smiled at her mother's return joke. "You said 'appear,' " she said slowly.

"You've changed," said her mother."You're not just lost in your own home, you're not just missing your best friend, you've changed. What we need to do is make it appear appear merely that you are growing up-which you are-and that it has nothing to do with three weeks spent alone with the pegasi. Listening to subversive tales of bondmates who could talk to each other." merely that you are growing up-which you are-and that it has nothing to do with three weeks spent alone with the pegasi. Listening to subversive tales of bondmates who could talk to each other."

Sylvi was silent.

"What were they like, the Caves?" said her mother hesitantly.

The question had not been asked before. There was-to Sylvi's ears-an unhappy little silence around it now. Sylvi had been home two days, and no one, not even her father and mother, had asked her anything about her journey. With Hibeehea's words still in the front of her mind, and dismayed and disoriented about her sense of strangeness in her own home, she had not tried to talk about it. When she came back from her cousins' she couldn't stop talking-although Powring and Orthumber and Nearenough and Shirrand, where her various aunts and uncles lived, were very well known to both her parents, and she could just talk, she didn't have to explain anything. Or avoid explaining anything.

Since she'd been back, this was the first time she'd been alone with either parent. She left her window-sill and sat on her bed next to her mother. She thought about how you weren't supposed to touch the pegasi, and yet the pegasi touch each other constantly-and her too, while she was with them. She reached out and took her mother's hand.

Her mother squeezed it and said, "I just said that sometimes you can show when you can't say the words. The one occasion I've ever felt that Hirishy and I were-were in contact somehow, was about the Caves. I'd had difficulty understanding how important they are, and your father was trying to tell me. This was long ago-Danny was a baby. Cory was explaining that the Caves are thousands of years of pegasus art and culture, and more than that: the heart of themselves as a people. I was wrestling with this, trying to imagine it, I suppose, as like our palace only a great deal more so. I looked up and Hirishy was looking at me. As if talk about their Caves-her Caves-was something she could hear and answer. For a moment-just a moment of a moment-I felt I saw the Caves, saw them as Hirishy had seen them, was seeing them in her memory at that moment and was trying to tell me."

"What did you see?" said Sylvi.

"Nothing I can tell you in a way that will make that sudden flash seem astonishing, which it was. It was so very . . . other. Alien. There are caves in the Greentops, you know, and some of the bigger, deeper ones have decorated walls. But this ..." She threw out her free hand in a there-are-no-words gesture. The pegasi had a specific gesture for "there are no words," which included a single swift up-and-down tail-lash.

"Full?" suggested Sylvi.

"Full," said her mother thoughtfully. "Full of . . . full. Yes. And yet . . . it was only one enormous cave with-with k.n.o.bbly walls, except I could see that the humps and valleys and ridges had been made. There was a pegasus standing on a low earthwork, with a tiny brush in its alula hand."

"Chuur," said Sylvi."When you don't know someone's gender. Chuur Chuur and and chuua chuua. Chuur Chuur hand." hand."

"I thought you heard Ebon in your head, like you hear someone speaking."

"I do. Mostly. But what happens when they use a word you don't know? Ebon had to explain chuur chuur and and chuua chuua to me." And had found it strange and tactless that her language called a live, gendered being "it" for want of a better choice. to me." And had found it strange and tactless that her language called a live, gendered being "it" for want of a better choice.

"Chuur alula hand, then. The wall in front of-of alula hand, then. The wall in front of-of chuua chuua-was beautifully coloured in reds and golds. I couldn't see if any of the b.u.mps and colours were a picture I might recognise; the flash didn't last long enough. But the feeling that went with it was extraordinary."

Sylvi smiled a little. "Yes. That sounds like the Caves." Good for Hirishy. "The whole last three weeks . . ." She paused. "It was all like that, a little. Like that feeling. That flash. That astonishment."

"Yes," said her mother softly. "That's what I'm afraid of."

CHAPTER 17.

Sylvi got through the rest of the week without Ebon somehow. She spent as much time outdoors as she could. She polished the sword that might have belonged to Razolon till it gleamed like a bead round the neck of a pegasus. She took extra lessons with Diamon; she volunteered for extra bashing-and-crashing practise, as hand-to-hand was familiarly called out of Diamon's hearing, and was put up against a variety of opponents, from Lucretia to some of Diamon's smallest and youngest beginners, including one of her cousins, her uncle Rulf 's youngest daughter, who had been sent to the palace for six weeks to find out what she needed to learn.

"Well done," said Diamon, after one long afternoon, as Sylvi was hanging up the rest of her practise gear, with her sword over her shoulder.

"I suppose I'm less threatening than someone bigger," she said. "Someone like Renny," her cousin,"is more likely to try what she knows against someone like me."

"I'm not putting you up against the littles for your size," said Diamon. "I'm putting you in because you use your strength well. Don't sell yourself as a three-legged donkey when you're a pegasus."

It was an old phrase, as old as "it will hearten us." She still had to stop herself from saying "I wish."

"Thank you," she said.

But she had to spend some time indoors. Ahathin said, "Have you given any thought to how you wish to present your report of your journey?"

"No," said Sylvi with loathing. There was a pile of blank paper in a corner of her table. She flicked the edge of the pile with her finger: it was beautiful, in its way, hard and crisp and shiny. The pegasi's softer, duller paper was meant chiefly to take paint, not ink. She had seen several shamans' sigils: Ebon said that how the paint bled into the paper told you how strong the charm would be, and also something about how it would do its work. I can read a few of the easy ones, what they're for, I can read a few of the easy ones, what they're for, Ebon said. Ebon said. But that's all. I can't tell you whether it's a good one or not. It's one of the things you learn if you're a shaman's apprentice. Like this one is for a good harvest. But it could be a good harvest that's full of weeds that we'll have to pick out. Sigils for rain are tricky, for example, because you want a nice steady medium rain, not like the rain-spirits overturning the sky-bowl so all the rain falls on you at once. But that's all. I can't tell you whether it's a good one or not. It's one of the things you learn if you're a shaman's apprentice. Like this one is for a good harvest. But it could be a good harvest that's full of weeds that we'll have to pick out. Sigils for rain are tricky, for example, because you want a nice steady medium rain, not like the rain-spirits overturning the sky-bowl so all the rain falls on you at once.

"I recommend you do so," said Ahathin. "I wish to be able to tell your father before the festivities for your birthday when he can expect to see it."

Could she write about the shamans' sigils? She could at least write about watching them make their paper. Her outstretched arm revealed Niahi's bracelet below the end of her sleeve. She could write about meeting Ebon's little sister. She could write about how the pegasi made yelloni yelloni for each other, but for ears and ankles. She could not write that Niahi had decided that human wrists were best. She could not write that Niahi had said anything to her at all. for each other, but for ears and ankles. She could not write that Niahi had decided that human wrists were best. She could not write that Niahi had said anything to her at all.

She had spoken to no pegasus since Ebon left. When she saw one in a corridor or in one of the gardens, they bowed to each other but did not stop. In human groups . . . the humans were always making so much mouth noise it was hard to think.

She looked at Ahathin and could think of nothing to say, no loud human words. But even the silence in the human world lay differently than silence with the pegasi.

"The king has faith in his daughter's intelligence and perception, and so do I," said Ahathin.

"You mean, be careful what I put in my report."