“Let us see this little one,” Oelendra said, peering into the baby’s face. Wrapped in the leather bunting was the singularly ugliest Lirin newborn Oelendra ever remembered seeing, but Rhapsody was beaming down at it with a tender look that transformed her face into something radiantly maternal.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” she cooed. “She’s been so patient on this long trip. You’re going to love this one, Oelendra. She’s so good.” Oelendra couldn’t help but smile.
The guards led the horse away, and the two women carried the children toward Oelendra’s quarters, Oelendra feeding Jecen some of the kiran berries she carried in her pocket. “Any problems on the trip?” she asked as the child gobbled the fruit in her hand and then proceeded to raid her pockets.
“Not unless you count this little one constantly trying to nurse,” Rhapsody laughed. “I suppose that’s one of the reasons I like her so much; she’s the first person in the world who thought I had something of substance under my camisole.”
Oelendra smiled again. “Somehow I doubt that.”
“I wish I could have accommodated her, poor baby. I got used to riding with the two of them, the nanny, and a waterskin full of clarified goat’s milk sticking out of my shirt. Thankfully no one stopped me.” Oelendra began to laugh, and opened the flap of the shelter for them to enter.
At the opening they met Quan Li, the oldest of the children Rhapsody had brought to Oelendra. The Singer’s face lit up as she saw the girl. They embraced, and Rhapsody brushed a quick kiss on the side of her head. “How are you, Quan Li?” she asked as Oelendra lowered Jecen to the ground. Rhapsody took his hand and transferred it to the girl. “This is Jecen, and he’s very hungry. Do you think you could take him inside and set him a place for noonmeal? Go with Quan Li, Jecen. I’ll be right in; I want to speak with Oelendra for a moment.” Jecen waved as he was led away, and she waved back.
The women waited until the children were inside the shelter, then walked a few feet away. “How was the birth?” Oelendra asked, running her hand gently over the baby’s pointed head.
“If Fate is kind I will never will have to witness anything like that again,” Rhapsody said, paling at the memory. “I tried to ease the mother’s suffering as best I knew how, but it was all I could do just to deliver her baby and keep the mother alive long enough to get to hold her.” She drew the infant to her cheek and kissed her. “I shudder to imagine what the others have been like, without a healer there to help. They probably didn’t even get to see their children. It makes me ill to think about it.” Her eyes grew misty, and Oelendra put an arm around her shoulder.
“Well, at least ’twas the last one,” she said.
“Not quite,” Rhapsody corrected grimly. “I still have to go get the eldest. With any luck Llauron will have some good ideas about that one. Achmed has gone back to Ylorc already, and I’m not looking forward to going in without him. His help was invaluable in getting the first nine.”
“If you have the right reinforcements, you’ll be fine,” said Oelendra. “Sorbold gladiators are dangerous in the ring and one-on-one, but they are unaccustomed to fighting multiple adversaries. Just make sure you don’t go in alone. And remember, if you get into an untenable situation, kill him. ’Tis all very well and good to want to save him, but ’tis not worth your life.”
“No, it’s not,” Rhapsody agreed. The baby stretched and yawned, eliciting a delighted response from both women.
“You’re right about her,” Oelendra said. “She’s beautiful.”
“She’s a fighter,” Rhapsody said fondly. “She really did come through an unspeakable nightmare. I wish you could have seen her mother’s face as she held her. She couldn’t speak, but—” Her voice broke, and she bowed her head. When she looked up again, her expression was grim. “This demon really has given me motive to rip his heart out,” she said, without emotion. “It will be returning the favor.”
“Let your hatred pass; he will use it against you,” Oelendra said. She ran her long fingers through the baby’s black hair. “Your reason for destroying him should be this child’s future, not her past. If you keep that fixed in your mind, you will do it because ’tis the right thing to do, not out of revenge. There is more power in the former than the latter. ’Tis something I cannot do; my hatred is too entrenched, but you, Rhapsody, you have the chance to set things right. Don’t let the atrocity of his actions ruin your focus.”
“When you talk like that, you sound just like my mother did,” Rhapsody said, smiling. “I often wonder if the two of you were related.”
“She and I have some things in common,” Oelendra said, returning her smile. “Now, what are we going to name this little one?” She watched the scowl on the infant’s face deepen as her lips protruded in her sleep, making suckling motions.
“There she goes again,” Rhapsody laughed. “Some funny things come to mind, but I think I’d like to call her Aria.” She caressed the baby’s tiny hand, the memory of Ashe rising up in her heart. She felt the loss of him acutely, each time she was reminded of how things would never be the same, like the way she would never hear him call her by that name again. She thought about the future that was coming closer every day, a future that he would not be a part of, and she ran her finger over the tiny knuckles, thinking that these children might be some consolation when it finally came to pass.
Oelendra had her own memory of the name. “Perfect,” she said softly, thinking back on it.
“My first gift to her was a song, the song that gave her mother a few moments with her,” Rhapsody said, blinking back tears. “If it’s not too presumptuous, someday I’d like to give each child in Tyrian the same gift; a song that is theirs and theirs alone. Maybe even before they’re born, and then it can be their first lullaby. Do you think that’s silly?”
“No,” said Oelendra, smiling fondly at her. “In Serendair the queen I served did something very similar, but with a different kind of gift. You would be perpetuating a fine tradition. Come on, let’s go see the others, I know they’re waiting eagerly for you.” She pulled the tent flap back again for Rhapsody to enter, hearing the chorus of excited greetings as the children swarmed around her, all talking at once. She watched the Singer’s face glow with delight as she bent down to hug them and show them the baby, knowing that it would not be the only tradition of the Seren queen’s that Rhapsody would one day repeat.
You’re off to Llauron’s, then?” Oelendra asked as she put the sleeping infant into the cradle. She covered her with a spun-wool blanket and gave her back a gentle rub before sitting down in her chair.
Rhapsody nodded. She was rocking two of the smallest children in the willow chair before Oelendra’s hearth, the firelight playing off her face. “He knows more about Sorboldian culture than anyone I know. Even though that country lies on Achmed’s border, he doesn’t have much knowledge of it.”
“Mountains do have a way of keeping information out, along with enemies,” Oelendra said. “Are you certain you can trust Llauron in this?”
“Are you saying I shouldn’t?”
“No.” The Lirin champion picked up her mug of spiced mead and lifted it to her lips. After she had swallowed, she looked back to find Rhapsody’s emerald eyes fixed on her, reflecting the flickering firelight. “Do you remember the Kinsman call I taught you when you first came to me for training?”
Rhapsody nodded, but her gaze did not wane. “Yes. By the Star, I will wait, I will watch, I will call and will be heard.” Oelendra nodded. “I was on horseback, preparing to leave for Sepulvarta to defend the Patriarch, so I do not recall much beyond that. What does it have to do with Llauron?”
“It has nothing to do with Llauron; we’ll get back to him in a moment. It’s important that you remember the call. You said you heard a whispering sound in your ear that night in Sepulvarta when you stood vigil and fought for the Patriarch?”
“Yes.”
The older woman’s face took on the glow of the firelight. “I believe you
are a Kinsman now yourself, Rhapsody. In the old land, the Kinsmen were a brotherhood of warriors, masters of the craft of fighting, dedicated to the wind and the star you were born beneath. They were accepted into the brotherhood for two things: incredible skill forged over a lifetime of soldiering, and a selfless act of service to others, protecting an innocent at the threat of one’s own life. I believe your protection of the Patriarch from the Rakshas in the basilica that night vested you as one of the order.”
“But that was in the old world,” Rhapsody said, nuzzling Jecen’s neck. The child sighed in his sleep. “Are there any Kinsmen still alive? Is the brotherhood still in existence?”
“I have never met one in this new land,” Oelendra answered, rocking Aria’s cradle gently. “I know not if the brotherhood still exists. But if it does, a Kinsman who hears you will always answer your cry for help on the wind if you are one yourself. Just as you must answer if you should hear the call.”
“I will,” Rhapsody promised. “Now, please, can we go back to Llauron? What is your concern? Achmed has long suspected he might be the host of the F’dor. Do you think so as well?”
“Nay,” said Oelendra shortly. There was a finality to her tone that made Rhapsody look away into the fire. Oelendra was silent for a moment, studying her face. “Are you worried Llauron might tell Gwydion—er, Ashe—about the children?”
“Not really,” Rhapsody answered, kissing the slumbering heads. “Llauron isn’t above withholding things from his son if he thinks they might keep him from his assigned tasks. You should see the letters he sent me in Ylorc, politely accusing me of not spending enough time accomplishing the Cymrian reunification. Once Ashe told him about the two of us, they became even worse, demanding to know if I had something to do with the fact his son wasn’t around much anymore. All written in obscure dialects of Ancient Serenne and couched in code. Besides, the only reason I didn’t tell Ashe about the children yet is because I don’t want to hurt him. He will be devastated when he realizes the acts his soul witnessed resulted in this situation. He’ll think it’s his fault.”
Oelendra was staring into the fire. “No, ’tis certainly not his fault,” she said distantly. Rhapsody looked at her, waiting for her to elaborate, but she did not.
“You know, given how diverse these children are, it’s surprising that one of them doesn’t have copper-colored hair.”
“Why would they?” Oelendra asked, snapping out of her musings. “The Rakshas may have looked like Gwydion, but its blood was that of the F’dor. There is no blood tie there.”
“I know; but it will still feel that way to Ashe,” Rhapsody said, caressing Mikita as she whimpered in her sleep. “The fragment of his soul that gave power to the Rakshas witnessed many unspeakable things, and Ashe has fragments of those memories. Beyond the logic of reason he feels some guilt, some complicity for those acts. I’m glad none of them resemble him in any way.”
“Well, the dragon in him will know they’re not his,” said Oelendra. “Speaking of Ashe, where be he now?”
“I have no idea,” Rhapsody said, still rocking. “He was headed south of the Krevensfield Plain when we parted; I think there was a flare-up of hostility between a human outpost and the Sorbold watchguards there. We made plans to meet in Bethany at the Lord Roland’s wedding; maybe I’ll see him there. Who knows?”
“Strange,” Oelendra commented.
“Yes, well, it’s all strange. Hopefully it will be over soon.”
“I was referring to your face when you said you had no idea about Ashe. You miss him, do you not?”
“Yes. Why?”
“You don’t show it.”
Rhapsody sighed. “I knew all along he could never be mine, Oelendra. It was what you said about Pendaris and you that gave me the ability to love him at all. I guess in our short time together, we loved a lifetime’s worth, too.”
Oelendra smiled. “The difference, Rhapsody, is that you’re both still alive. Don’t ever assess a lifetime’s worth until it’s done.” The fire crackled in agreement, and the two women sat before it in companionable silence until it burned down to coals in the darkness of the cabin.
24
The Circle, Gwynwood
Llauron threw another log onto the fire and stood for a moment, watching it begin to catch and burn. She would be down in a moment, and it was always interesting to see the way the fire changed in proximity to her, matching itself to her mood. It was an innate ability, one that Llauron looked forward to possessing himself, though on a somewhat grander scale.
In the darkness of his study Llauron felt a sense of peace descend, a rare feeling in these last days. He leaned against the doorframe. The time was coming, and soon the waiting, and all the unpleasantness associated with uncertainty, would be over.
Rhapsody appeared at the top of the stairs. She was no longer in the dusty garments she had worn when traveling, but had attired herself in a delicate white blouse of Canderian linen, embroidered with lacy patterns in white thread, and a rich, full skirt of wine-colored wool. Her hair had been brushed and was bound merrily up in a large bow that matched her skirt.
Llauron’s eyes glittered in affectionate warmth as she came down to greet him. He took both of the hands she held out to him, and kissed her on the cheek, then tucked her arm into the curve of his own as he led her to his study.
“You look fetching, my dear,” he said gallantly, holding the door for her.
“Thank you,” she answered, smiling. “It’s amazing how far a bath and a change of clothes goes in making you feel civilized again.”
“Yes, well, Vera has brought us a nice tray with our supper on it, and somewhere around here I have a lovely bottle of brandy I thought we could use to celebrate.”
Rhapsody leaned against the horsehair sofa in front of the fire, casting a hungry glance over at the tray. “Celebrate? What are we celebrating?”
“Well, I generally feel like celebrating when you’re around, my dear, even if you’re here on business that is less than pleasant, and particularly if you are here without your, ah, compatriots.” He pulled a bottle from inside his liquor chest and rummaged around, eventually producing two dusty-looking brandy snifters. “I wonder how your absence is affecting Gwydion. How do you suppose he is getting on without you?”
Rhapsody was surprised at his candid reference to Ashe. “I’m sure he’s fine,” she said, discomfort at the subject creeping into her face. “Actually I haven’t seen him in a long time.”
“Good; that’s good to know,” Llauron said, pulling the cork and setting the snifters on the sideboard. “Perhaps he is actually getting some of his work done, then, and attending to his responsibilities.” He poured a generous splash of the dark golden liquid into each glass.
Rhapsody could feel her face growing warmer as he spoke. “I hope you don’t think I’m trying to keep Ashe from his duties,” she said uncomfortably, wishing that for once she had chosen to remain silent. “If anything, the steps we’ve taken, Achmed and Grunthor and I, should put him in a far better position to deal with his responsibilities.”
The venerable gentleman lifted the glasses off the sideboard. “Those steps being—well, now, what would those steps be? Are you referring to the undoubtedly pleasant distraction you provided for so much of the summer, hiding him in some lovers’ nook and keeping him from the tasks I assigned him? I have no doubt that he enjoyed the duties you gave him far more than mine.”
“I don’t think you understand what I have been doing with Ashe at all, Llauron,” Rhapsody answered, struggling to swallow the offense she felt. “I’ve not kept him locked away anywhere; I’ve been working very hard to improve his situation.”
Llauron swirled the brandy in the snifters, then came back across the room.
“I do understand, my dear, that my son is very fond of you. And I’m glad; he has excellent taste. I am not unaware that he has physical needs that have to be met.”
Rhapsody felt her throat constrict under her me
ntor’s twinkling look; his words made her stomach turn. She fought to keep the insult she felt from coming through in her voice.
“Then you are also aware, Llauron, that by far the most pressing physical need your son had was the need to heal his wounded chest. And the physical aspect of that need was insignificant in comparison to its other factors.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” the old man said, smiling. He handed her a glass and sat down in his chair. “And I am eternally grateful to you and the others for the part you played in mending that situation. He will owe you quite a debt when he ascends to the seat of Lord Cymrian.”
“He owes me nothing, and I want nothing from him. Achmed and Grunthor’s aid was freely given as well. Ashe will have no debts to us because we did what was right.”
“That’s very magnanimous of you, my dear. Actually, it doesn’t surprise me where you’re concerned; you are a lovely girl and I knew from the moment I saw you that you had a noble heart. But do you really feel you can speak for your Firbolg companions? How do you know this?”
Rhapsody fell silent, looking into the brandy snifter and breathing in the bouquet of the liquid. “That was the agreement. I made sure of it from the beginning.”
“And what guarantees this agreement?”
She was beginning to lose patience. “My friendship with them. When all this is over, that is something Achmed will not compromise by betraying his word. Besides, I think Ashe will be more than capable of taking care of himself, even if Achmed were to press an old advantage. Our help has come without strings, Llauron. I know this is a foreign concept to you, but you are just going to have to trust me about this.”