Now though, he wasn’t so sure. Life with Lyralliantha wasn’t anything like his life in Ellentrea had been. He had conversation as well as music, and the food was steadily improving.
“We’ve spent the day traveling, and you still haven’t seen all of the border yet,” she reminded him.
“Horses might have improved our time.”
“Time is one thing I have in great supply,” Lyralliantha said plainly, but Daniel spotted a brief flash of something that in a human he might have labeled melancholy.
“You are too young to seem so bored,” he returned.
“Even nine years can seem a burden when little changes,” she supplied.
Perhaps there’s a downside to being born knowledgeable. Half the fun of youth is learning, he thought to himself.
“I am here now,” observed Daniel.
“Your music has been a balm for my spirit. Will you play for me again this evening?” It was the same question she asked every day.
He wondered why she asked. It wasn’t as if he could refuse. He was completely in her power. Daniel wondered if she was as aware of that fact as he was. Perhaps she was able to forget.
***
Later, after they had fed themselves and returned to the platform that Daniel had begun to think of as ‘his’, he played for her again. Once he had finished the first song Lyralliantha spoke up.
“Will you play the song from your vision again? The one you played the day that wom—Amarah died,” she asked. It was a testament to her diligence that she remembered to call the unnamed servant by her name. It had been a sore topic for Daniel for a few of their early conversations. She used it now to avoid distressing him, even though death held little meaning for her.
“Dana’s Lament?” he clarified, taking no offense at her blunt affect. He had learned that while Lyralliantha was exceptionally sensitive for one of the She’Har, she was still unable to comprehend grief fully.
“I think that is what you named it before.”
Once again he was amazed at her clearly spoken Barion. While his understanding of Erollith was progressing quickly, his ability to speak it was advancing more slowly. Byovar complimented him, but he could tell the She’Har thought he should be learning faster.
“I don’t like to play it very often,” he admitted.
“Why not?”
“It makes me sad.”
Lyralliantha cocked her head sideways slightly, reminding Daniel of his dog, Blue, when he was curious. “Does it make you remember your family?”
Family was something they had spoken of previously; although Daniel had despaired of her ever understanding why he would have such a powerful attachment to other people. “That is part of it, but it also reminds me of the other things I’ve lost.” A memory of green eyes made him blink.
“Will you play it?” she asked, unperturbed by his evident sadness.
“It makes it worse when you listen with me,” he told her.
“Why?”
Daniel decided to be brutally honest with her. “Music like that is meant to allow people to share sorrow, to gain strength and support from the experience. When you listen to it with me, I’m reminded of how alone I am, because you don’t understand the sadness and loss within the song.”
If his words hurt her, it didn’t show. As with almost everything, she simply stared at him thoughtfully. Eventually she spoke again, “I feel something when you play it, but I don’t understand. Our bodies are like yours—we can feel, but we don’t have the same experiences that you do. We do not have families.”
“There’s no way to bridge that gap,” said Daniel.
She had moved closer and now her blue eyes were staring intently at him from no more than a foot away. “Your music already has. I can feel it. I think I could understand, a little, if you would show me.” She held her hands up, as if she wanted to place them on his head.
Daniel realized he was holding his breath. Her nearness was causing him to react in uncomfortable ways and he was glad that he had clothes now. “Stand behind me then, so I have room for my cittern,” he said, surrendering to her wish.
He took a seat and she stood behind him, her hands lightly touching his temples. A moment later he felt the light touch of her mind on his, and he knew that she could see and feel what he was experiencing. He tightened his fingers against the frets and began strumming with his other hand, letting the chords flow from one to the next as the melody took hold of him.
He hadn’t intended to sing, but the words were running through his head, and he let them carry him along, striving with his imperfect voice to give them life. They told the story of Dana, a quiet country maid who fell in love with a traveling soldier named Byron. Their happiness was short, however, as Byron was soon called away to war. The last half of the song was a sad tribute to Dana’s steadfast love as she waited for her lover’s return.
The words rolled by, but in Daniel’s mind he was seeing a different vision. Rather than Dana and Byron, his heart was filled with red hair and green eyes. Days on the hillside, watching his father’s sheep and occasionally catching a glimpse of Kate. He remembered her kiss, and her tears, the pain in her eyes when he told her that he didn’t love her. The awe he had felt when he realized that she might forgive him for everything, might love him despite his flaws and mistakes, filled his heart again. Catherine Sayer was an ache that made his chest feel hollow, a pain that never quite disappeared, despite five years of blood and pain.
He had learned to love again, when he discovered kindness in Ellentrea. Amarah had given him some comfort, loving him without understanding the word. She had been a gift, one that had helped him survive. Her mind had been almost childlike in its simplicity, but he had cherished her, the one bright thing in a violent existence.
Now she was gone, and Daniel was left alone once more, longing for something to fill the void. In his heart, Kate was sitting on the bench on her mother’s porch, staring into the empty night, waiting for her lover to come home.
The song ended, and Daniel became aware of himself again. His chest felt heavy, and a coolness on his cheeks told him that tears had recently found their way down them. Lyralliantha stood behind him, quiet, her hands on his shoulders now. His magesight could see her shoulders moving, and he felt the motion being transferred through the light touch of her arms.
Is she crying?
Glancing up and over his shoulders he saw red-rimmed eyes brimming with tears. She sobbed silently, unable to stop herself and without a shred of self-consciousness.
He put the cittern to one side and stood, turning to face her. “It’s alright,” he told her.
“How can you feel all of this?” she asked, still weeping. “Doesn’t it make you want to die?” The expression on her face reminded him of a child, one who had fallen for the first time and was learning the truth of pain.
“Sometimes,” he admitted, moving closer and putting his arms around her. “That’s why we do this.”
She let him embrace her, although she didn’t return the gesture, keeping her arms folded across her own chest. Lyralliantha couldn’t fully comprehend her emotions yet, nor did she know how to comfort someone else.
Daniel could see her relaxing though, the tension leaving her shoulders as she finally stopped weeping. Fascinated by her proximity, he stroked her strange silver hair, feeling its softness under his palms. She had a pleasant scent, one that reminded him of the trees and growing things. Without thinking, he began to stroke her aura, trying to awaken the same attraction in her that he felt himself.
With his magesight he saw her aura change, lighting up with the distinctive patterns that indicated arousal, before shifting suddenly to anger. Lyralliantha pushed him back.
“No, baratt!” she declared, glaring at him with an icy ferocity.
He released her, confused by her sudden reversal. “What?”
“I have much to learn, baratt, but you also must learn some things,” she said angrily. Striding quickly away, s
he left the platform and was gone.
Daniel watched her with his magesight, wondering whether she was retiring for the evening. She didn’t stop at her own sleeping platform however; Lyralliantha kept moving until she had left the tree entirely, and she didn’t stop until she was outside of the range of his senses.
Why is she so mad? He wondered.
Chapter 34
Lyralliantha did not return the next day.
Daniel was left wondering if he had offended her in such a way that she might not forgive him. He still wasn’t entirely sure what he had done wrong. Was she disgusted at the notion of having sex with a human? Had it been her emotional reaction to the song?
Her anger had seemed at odds with her reaction to the song, so he guessed that it had something to do with his potentially sexual advance. He knew already that the humans kept in Ellentrea and the other camps were the direct result of unions between humans and the She’Har children, but he didn’t know much about how it was accomplished.
Did they only mate with female humans, to avoid having to bear the children themselves? Perhaps they didn’t even have direct physical contact—Daniel was thoroughly ignorant of the customs in that regard. He had never thought to ask Amarah about it once they had started talking more freely.
Then again, the Illeniel Grove had never kept humans, or produced any via such couplings. If they had, Daniel would have been forced to fight some of them during his years in the arena. They might have a philosophical objection to sex between the races, one not shared by the other groves.
Unable to resolve his doubts, Daniel put the question aside. Lyralliantha had told him that he was free to travel within the Illeniel Grove’s boundaries, so he decided to test his newfound freedom. Dressing himself in his warden’s leathers, he descended the trunk until he reached the ground.
He felt strange walking without an escort or some sort of guard. He was constantly looking over his shoulder, wondering if someone would approach and harass him for leaving his platform without permission. Of course, he needn’t have turned his head; his magesight told him quite plainly that no one was near, or following him. Still, old habits die hard.
“No, baratt!”
He heard her words again in his mind. He couldn’t recall her ever using the term baratt when referring to him before. That realization alone was startling and even more painful now that she had actually used it to refer to him. Daniel had begun to think of Lyralliantha as different, more human, than the others of her kind. He had thought that she was more compassionate, or perhaps even considered him to be more than just an animal, as the rest of her race did.
Daniel wandered for hours, and no one approached him. On the rare occasion that his magesight told him that he was near someone, they would relocate. None of the Illeniel She’Har had any desire to consort with a baratt.
Not finding anything to hold his interest, and also being nervous at having left without express permission, he returned to his platform. Lyralliantha was still not there, so he waited. She never appeared, but Byovar did arrive with food for him.
“Have you spoken with she?” asked Daniel, struggling to pronounce the words properly in Erollith.
“Her,” said Byovar, correcting his choice of pronouns. “She told me to continue your lessons.”
“But, where is she?” asked Daniel, switching back to his native language.
The She’Har ignored him.
With a sigh he carefully constructed the sentence in Erollith, “Where at she is?”
Byovar smiled and replied in the same language, “You should say, ‘where is she’.”
Fighting down his irritation, Daniel repeated the words, “Where is she?”
Byovar rattled off a response that was too unfamiliar for him to understand. He was able to pick out the words for ‘lore-warden’ and ‘elders’. “One more time,” he requested, using one of the first and most common phrases that Byovar had taught him.
The Illeniel male repeated his answer, speaking more slowly. This time Daniel was able to piece the meaning together a bit better. “She is dressing with the elders and the lore-wardens,” he said in Barion, to give his teacher a chance to correct his translation. That doesn’t make sense.
“The verb ‘ouelvar’ does mean dressing, but in this instance it has a different meaning. In this sentence it means that she is meeting or discussing something with them,” lectured the She’Har.
“Another idiom?” said Daniel, with undisguised annoyance.
“Do not complain, baratt. Your language has even more of them than mine,” observed his teacher.
He was right, of course, but Daniel hadn’t even been aware of the concept of idioms until he tried to learn a second language. “At least our idioms make sense,” he argued.
“You know better than that,” said Byovar. “Now, speak to me in Erollith if you wish for me to answer you.”
Gritting his teeth, Daniel cleared his mind and focused his thoughts on his next question. “What subject are they dressing around?” he asked in his broken Erollith.
Byovar began to laugh before correcting him again. “No, baratt, you use the verb for talk when you change to the active voice.”
Groaning, Daniel tried again and this time Byovar was satisfied. “They are discussing you, baratt.”
That revelation made him immediately nervous. I made her angry, and now she’s gone to report the problem to the leaders of the grove. Was my sexual advance really that terrible?
Byovar saw the look on his face. “If she wished to punish you, she would simply do so. She has no need to consult anyone for that. You are her property, baratt.”
“She told me that the Illeniel Grove doesn’t believe in needless cruelty,” said Daniel in Barion.
Byovar ignored him again, forcing Daniel to rephrase his statement in Erollith.
After several minutes of frustrating exchanges, his teacher finally replied, “We don’t, but punishment is not cruelty if it is used for teaching. My comment stands, however, if she wanted to punish you, she could do so without consulting anyone.”
“Am I to be killed?” asked Daniel. Those words he already knew well enough to manage flawlessly.
Byovar laughed, “That would be even less of a concern.”
“Then what is it about?”
“Ask her yourself, when she returns,” said the She’Har in his most inscrutable fashion.
***
It was two days before she reappeared.
Naturally, Daniel had already been through several stages of anxiety. He had been amazed to discover how much his life already revolved around the She’Har woman. In her absence he had been bereft of reason or purpose. Not because of any particular romantic interest, although he did find her incredibly attractive, but because he had been a slave so long.
In Ellentrea his life had hinged upon Thillmarius’ decisions, Amarah’s visits, and Garlin’s appearances to escort him to the arena. Things were similar now, except Lyralliantha was the one who fed him, and aside from Byovar’s language lessons, the only one who visited him. Not only was his day to day existence dependent upon her, but she was nearly the entirety of his social life.
He had no intention of showing his dependence when she returned to his platform on the third day. Daniel was in the middle of practicing with shapes and lines, forming fields of force both with and without guides. It was an exercise that he had practiced while living in Ellentrea, and even though he had no expectation of ever returning to the arena he still felt it was a good idea to continue to keep his skills sharp.
Lyralliantha had been visible to his magesight for quite some time, but when she finally stepped onto his platform he gave no sign that he noticed her. He continued working; constructing complex shapes in the air using only his imagination. Some of them he imbued with colors and others he left transparent, creating a complex array of abstract forms.
She said nothing for a time, possibly fearing that it might ruin his concentration. Likewise, he
ignored her. After several minutes she grew tired of waiting and spoke, “I have some news that may interest you.”
Daniel turned to face her, keeping a portion of his mind on his magical creation. Trying to do one thing, such as talking, while keeping them firmly in place, was another form of practice. “I am always at your disposal, mistress,” he replied, putting a faint emphasis on the last word.
The subtleties of sarcasm were lost on her. Barion was still new to her, and the She’Har seldom used sarcasm in their own language. “Your music, and the vision that accompanied it, have been on my mind.”
“It is comforting to know that you think of me, mistress,” acknowledged Daniel.
Lyralliantha frowned. She could detect something like irritation in his aura, and she thought there was an odd quality to his phrasing, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. “Is there something wrong?” she asked, never one to dance around a question.
“No, mistress,” said Daniel. “The sun shines only when you are here, so there can be nothing wrong when you are near.” That was almost poetic, he thought, congratulating himself for a second.
She looked at him doubtfully before continuing, “Very well, I went before the elders to present a question.
“I’m sure that was fascinating, mistress.”
Lyralliantha realized then what seemed odd to her about his speech. “I don’t recall you using honorifics when addressing me before.”
“My manners became lax while I lived among the baratti in Ellentrea, mistress,” Daniel told her. “Few of us are so lucky as to be allowed frequent contact with our owners.” To compensate for her oblivious nature Daniel coated his words liberally with sarcasm.
She wasn’t able to figure out the dual nature of his words, but his aura showed her his mood. “You are angry with me,” she stated.
“A slave should not direct such emotions toward his owner.”