Pegasus

  Like Cuandoia, thought Sylvi. She had a brief impulse to kneel and put her hand on the ground, like a salute, but it might be impertinent, as she had once been taught—it seemed ages and ages ago—that touching a pegasus was rude.

  They’re the most beautiful thing in the world, said Ebon. And you want to go and make a spook story out of them. Fine, you can stay outside and watch for bears. Syl and I are going in with Dad.

  There are no bears here!

  Then it should be easy to watch for them.

  Ebon, I hate you!

  Sylvi thought Niahi sounded near tears, if pegasi wept, and she also sounded like some of Sylvi’s cousins, when they had all been younger, when Sylvi’s brothers had been tormenting them. She went over to her, not knowing if it was the right gesture or not, and pushed the forelock away from Niahi’s eyes as she might have pushed hair out of the eyes of one of her cousins, and swept a hand down her neck and shoulder as she might have patted her cousin. She wanted to tell Niahi that Ebon was her brother, she couldn’t afford to let him wind her up this easily, but she could guess it was her, Sylvi’s, presence that made it so easy. Niahi was the little sister who might have been Sylvi’s pegasus, if their fathers had decided that the human king’s daughter should be bound to a daughter of the pegasus king. And Niahi had been the second pegasus Sylvi had found she could talk to. Niahi had opened the door that their fathers had hoped would open—could be opened.

  Tell him he has no imagination, she said to Niahi. Tell him he’s a thickie. That all he has is muscles.

  Hey! said Ebon.

  I’m a little sister too, you know, she said. And all my older brothers are big bullies. And I’ve only got three of them. I probably will be frightened of your beautiful Caves.

  Yes, you probably will. That was my point, said Ebon. But they’re—they’re not— He switched his tail in a sign of frustration that was one of the first pegasus gestures she’d learnt to read after she met Ebon—before Ebon it hadn’t occurred to her that the pegasi would feel anything as ignoble as frustration—it was not dissimilar to the frustrated tail-switch of a horse. But a horse didn’t follow up with the long almost-invisible-unless-you-were-watching-closely sinuous shiver which was the signal of transition from gesture to language. They’re not spooky. That’s all wrong. There’s a … there’s an immensity to them, even in the smallest spaces. That’s what Niahi means about hangs and follows and calls—and full. You’ll see.

  Niahi put her velvet lips briefly to Sylvi’s face. You’ll see, she said. And I don’t mean the Caves aren’t wonderful too. They are. They’re too wonderful.

  They’re too wonderful kept recurring to Sylvi’s mind the next day.

  She’d slept well—thanks to a sweet-smelling drink the queen had given her; she could feel it begin to work with her first sip and she went to her feather-bed smiling and relaxed. But she woke at dawn when the pegasi themselves were first stirring, and she was awake immediately and absolutely. She felt excited, but the wrong kind of excited, the way she might have felt on a test day for a test she hadn’t practised or studied hard enough for and she knew it, and whoever would be testing her would know it too. Ssshasssha, she thought. How does a human practise for that? But I wanted to do this, she told herself fiercely. I still want to. And it’s the most enormous compliment.

  Which was the problem.

  She missed her father—any other human—so badly it made her curiously achy, as if her humanity were a cramped or injured limb. A part of that discomfort was her relentless sense of herself as wrong, as alien—stiff and clumsy, a grotesque unnatural shape and freakishly unbalanced posture (how ridiculous to spend all your life rearing!). And bald. And wingless…. She felt her arms—her forelegs—flapping foolishly at her sides; how bizarre human shoulders were, pulling the forelegs apart and forcing them to dangle. She drew her arms forward, jerking her shoulders and letting the rest of her arms trail as if she’d forgotten how they worked. Slowly she bent her elbows and held her big spindly-fingered human hands out in front of her. She spread the long fingers, curled them up, spread them again, turned her wrists back and forth so she looked at the palms, and then the backs, and then the palms of her hands again. They were big hands only here in Rhiandomeer; at home, among humans, they were little, like everything about Sylvi was little. The sword Diamon had told her to take back to her rooms with her was still only three-quarter-sized because her hands weren’t big enough to get a proper grip on the hilt of a full-sized one.

  She let her hands droop at the ends of her wrists, and then folded her arms across her stomach and tucked her hands behind her elbows, holding on to her rib cage as if she were holding herself together. This was becoming the way she most often stood here, in the pegasi country, where she was bald and wingless and always rearing.

  It was only going to be herself and Ebon and Lrrianay going into the Caves, and Ebon and Lrrianay were used to humans. To the funny way they looked, and the funny way they moved. There was no human equivalent of ssshasssha, which filled the Caves and called your name. It won’t call mine, she thought, but this gave her no comfort.

  That morning even Ebon was subdued. She asked him on her way to her bath if she should hurry. No, he said immediately, but then he hesitated. Do you have—do you have a way of putting yourself in—and then there was a word she didn’t know. She stood there in her crumpled nightdress, clutching her towel and staring at her best friend—her best friend who was so hopelessly unlike herself—and saw the unbridgeable chasm lying between them again. You know, in your head?

  I don’t know that word, she said, and she said it as if she were pronouncing her own doom. It’s only one word, she told herself. It’s just one word.

  Uh, said Ebon, and she thought she heard in his silent voice that it was an important word, and that he was seeing the same chasm she was. Eah. Dad said you wouldn’t. Dad said— Never mind. You humans, you only seem to see now. A kind of squared-off, pillar-at-each-corner now, and a few weighed-and-measured years before and after. All of us in bound families have to study some of your history, whether we’re individually bound or not. I always thought it was something about the translation, about the fact that we can’t talk to each other and even our shamans couldn’t get it right, that it was all “he was king from the eighth day of the first month of spring in 892 to the eleventh day of the last month of winter 921,” “her army contained ninety-six regiments and the colours on her banner were red and gold.” Your history is only what someone remembers or has written down—and it’s just history, it’s not—and he used the word again. It’s the way into ssshasssha—your magicians talk about our ssshasssha, don’t they? You’ve asked me about it. But how do they describe it? It’s easy to get stuck in now—are you hungry, what’s the weather, what are you doing tomorrow? What words can you give these things so you can give them to someone else? From when we’re really little we practise getting out of now. I’m not very good at it. Niahi is hopeless, although Mum says she’ll get better as she gets older, but she’s worse than most kids, which is probably why she thinks the Caves are spooky.

  Sylvi said, I’ll be okay. I can stand spooky. I won’t embarrass you. I’ll—I’ll try so hard and be so respectful you’ll scarcely recognise me.

  Ebon stamped, and lashed his tail so violently it was as if he were trying to shake it loose. That’s not what I mean. He stepped forward and put out one of his feather-hands to her cheek again; the tiny breeze of his half-opening wing fanned her face. I want you to—to like the Caves! He stamped again. Oh, like! It’s a stupid word. Liking the Caves would be like liking water or daylight. If you’d lived in the dark or never tasted water they’d be overwhelming. You wouldn’t be able to think about liking.

  Like flying when you haven’t any wings, thought Sylvi.

  But I don’t care if this is a historic moment or not, bringing a human into the Caves. All that is grown-up stuff. I knew something wa
s up when I asked Dad if I could bring you here and he didn’t say no. I’d been thinking how to be a royal pain in the pinfeathers and then it didn’t go like that at all. But then it was too late, I’d got used to it that I was going to be able to bring you here and I told myself the other stuff didn’t matter, the grown-up stuff didn’t matter to us—and Niahi, Niahi’s okay, and it would be nice if you could talk to more of us than just me. But it does matter, the grown-up stuff. Why the grown-ups wanted to bring you.

  You’re not happy here. I never thought about that. I never thought … I shouldn’t have brought you. I wanted you to see the Caves, and I didn’t know how else to do it. They’d never have agreed to bringing a lot of you—you humans. I couldn’t bear your palace—even with you—if it weren’t that there are always at least twelve or a gazai of us around too. I was blind with what I wanted. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry….

  Stop, she said, and put her hand to his mouth, as if he were human, as if he were speaking aloud. He dropped his own hand and dipped his head, pressing his nose into her hand, till she was looking at the arched crest of his neck, and in that moment she thought that the way his glittering black mane fell down his shining black shoulders was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Stop, she said. I knew before I came that it was really all about grown-up stuff, that that was the only reason they were letting me come. That you and I—the way we think of you and me—would be a little thing that happened accidentally too. Have you ever wondered what will happen when they lift the ban on letting us translate? If the guild lets them…. But I still wanted to come. I knew better than you did—I went to all those senate meetings. I thought … I didn’t think. Just like you. I wanted to come. It is worth it—whatever it is—to come. She couldn’t resist running her hands up his long silky face and down the perfect arch of his neck, and burying her hands in his mane. It’s that I’m all wrong here. You must feel it at the palace, even though there are more of you.

  You’re not all wrong to me, said Ebon, and turned his head to rest his nose on her shoulder.

  They stood silently for a moment or two and Sylvi thought, if I could just stand here like this forever, I’d be happy.

  And then she sighed, and stooped to pick up the towel she’d dropped. I’d better get ready. Did you ever say when I should be there? Wherever. I don’t know where it is yet either.

  It’s not like that, going into the Caves. The right time is when we all get there—the right time only happens some time after we all get there. That’s part of getting out of now, into— This time she almost heard the word as a distinct word, but she still had no translation for it: ssshuuwuushuu.

  The way to ssshasssha, she thought. I wonder if Fthoom knows? I wonder how much our magicians know that they haven’t told us?

  Time—

  We have time, said Ebon. Time isn’t a—a thing. And the Caves are the Caves; day and night aren’t things either. And days—hours—are different. The Caves themselves help with going there, with ssshuuwuushuu. You’re half there just by crossing the threshold. It’s why if you can’t go there yourself the Caves are harder—like the difference between jumping and being thrown. He paused. Once you’re there, it’s—it’s almost like dreaming, when you’re in your dream as yourself instead of your dreaming self, when you’re both nothing and everything in your dream. Everything matters when you’re not in now.

  She gave a little grunt of surprised laughter. I almost know what you mean.

  Ebon smiled. Of course you do. How could you not at least almost know anything I know?

  It’ll be all right, she said.

  Eah. Yes, it will.

  But her heart was beating rather too quickly when she and Ebon arrived at the clearing near the entrance to the Caves. Sylvi had one hand wrapped around the little wooden bead Ebon had just dropped round her neck; he was wearing one too. Its creamy glow was startling against his blackness.

  Lrrianay was there ahead of them; he too wore a bead. From a distance it seemed as if Lrrianay himself shone with a soft brilliance. If Viktur’s soldiers had first seen a pegasus like this, Sylvi thought, they would have been sure he was a god, or at least the numen of the land—the sweet green land. There was another pegasus with him, wearing a little bag around his neck which did not glow. It took her a moment to recognise him: Hibeehea.

  She didn’t mean to—she meant to be poised and perfectly behaved—but she stopped dead. Ebon stopped too, and looked at her inquiringly.

  Hibeehea, she said, and felt that even her silent voice shook.

  We have to have a shaman with us to go into the Caves, said Ebon.

  He had told her that. She had forgotten. Hibeehea? she said. No—wait—you’re going to tell me what a great honour it is again.

  Well, it is, he said. I didn’t know it was going to be Hibeehea either.

  She made her feet start moving again. Poised, she thought. Perfectly behaved. Lrrianay and Hibeehea turned to look at her and Ebon, but they showed no impatience—would I know what impatience looks like in a pegasus? thought Sylvi. I’ve never seen one impatient. Maybe I just don’t know what it looks like. But maybe they’re never impatient. She glanced at Ebon. He gets impatient, she thought.

  Some of this slid inadvertently into her speaking range. Not knowing where the border was was a good deal more worrisome now that she was talking to more pegasi than just Ebon, and Hibeehea….

  Ebon glanced back at her. Impatient? No, I don’t feel impatient. I … There was a brief pause. Come to think about it, I feel kind of scared. That’s good, right? We can be scared together.

  She tried to laugh and almost succeeded. She thought, He’s afraid I’ll make a mess of it. She was sure she had been careful to think that on the safe, private side of the silent border, but Ebon turned on her and said, Don’t ever think that. About anything. You’re my heart’s sister, even if you are a funny shape and walk on your hind legs all the time and rattle away out loud like a donkey or a bird. I’m frightened because you’re frightened, and because it’s hard—it can be hard—the first time going into the Caves, and you’re old for it—you can’t do ssshuuwuushuu and the ssshasssha will be like … being thrown in a cold dark lake when you can’t swim and you’ve never seen water before.

  Unbidden, something Ahathin had said to her years ago came back to her, something he had said to her shortly before her binding, about apprentice magicians learning the language of the pegasi: Imagine learning to swim by being thrown into a lake in perfect darkness, never having seen water before.

  I need to think about this, she thought suddenly. I need—

  We start ’em young, and you only go in for a mouthful of moments your first time, and … His silent-voice trailed away.

  And I’m a funny shape, and I talk out loud, she said.

  He looked at her and there was another pause; but all he said, un-Ebon-like, was, Yes.

  Then she was making her bows and greetings to Lrrianay and Hibeehea, and Hibeehea was standing very close to her—so close she had to stop herself stepping backward—to distract herself she looked up, and saw that there were many pegasi standing at the edge of the clearing, among the trees; she had not noticed them before. Niahi nodded her head and—waved, stretching one wing out and forward, and flicking it up and down. Hesitantly Sylvi raised a thin bare arm and waved back. The queen, standing beside Niahi, stepped forward, and at once Sylvi turned toward her: she was less scary than either Hibeehea or Lrrianay. Sylvi’s eyes fell to her garnet, still round the queen’s neck, lying where the bright beads lay round Lrrianay’s or Ebon’s. As the queen moved into the sunlight, the little garnet flared briefly, red as a torch.

  Aliaalia said, As you are a girl, it is your mother who should take you into the Caves for the first time. But the leader of your kinsfolk may choose to do it instead. Ebon is your kin here, and Lrrianay wishes to take you. But I want you to know, little Sylvi, that I would have been happy a
nd proud to bring you into our Caves myself. Go well, daughter, and may you see all you will see. She brushed her velvet cheek across Sylvi’s cheek, and walked back to the edge of the trees where Niahi waited for her.

  See all I will see? thought Sylvi.

  Lrrianay nodded and led the way. Hibeehea followed, and Ebon dropped half a step behind Sylvi and (she felt) chivvied her forward. She thought she was probably glad for a little chivvying. She let go of her bead as they passed the threshold, into the twilight of the Caves.

  Her first impression of the Caves was merely the sound of her first footstep, when she crossed from turf to packed earth. Her second impression was of darkness, in spite of candlelight and her bead, as she stepped from daylight into the cave mouth.

  There was a pegasus she had not seen before just inside, who bowed to them all; there was a little round space like an antechamber with a cluster of tall candles at its centre, and Lrrianay paused. Sylvi involuntarily looked back, toward the daylight and the trees and the open air. She was looking past Ebon, blacker than ever against the light, with the tiny dazzle of his bead against his chest. He seemed taller than a carriage-horse, bigger and broader than a war-horse, standing between her and the sun. She didn’t even know how long they would be in the Caves, how long before she would see daylight again: It depends, Ebon had said. It’s not—not a useful question, “how long?” We’ll stop when we get tired or hungry.

  “Stop”? thought Sylvi. Don’t you mean come back outdoors? But she hadn’t asked.