Dawnsinger (11 page)

“If you weep for me, save your sorrow. I’m happy enough.” Cupping her chin, he dried her cheeks with gentle fingers, and then dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll see you in a while.”

She waited for the sound of his footsteps to fade down the corridor before fetching her cloak. The bandage he’d wrapped with such care unwound easily. Without this encumbrance, she could just stretch her soft slipper onto her swollen foot. Standing, she tested her foot, pleased that it didn’t pain her unduly. Kai wouldn’t approve of her going about unescorted, but she wouldn’t go anywhere unsafe.

****

The wind breathed through the inner garden, molding Aeleanor’s scarlet cloak against Shae. Leaves hissed and strongwoods creaked as twisted branches thrashed against a fading sky. She raised her face against the wild current, letting its force revive her, and then, as elder petals drifted across the fieldstone paths at her feet, wandered with time forgotten. The splash and fall of water eventually drew her to the garden’s heart.

“Who’s this?” The challenge came from a youth who sat at the pool’s edge with his burnished head tilted, his sea-green eyes fixed on Shae. He wore a cloak of emerald wool edged and lined with m
ustela
fur, its hood thrown back. Twin golden roses adorned this garment on either side, joined by a bejeweled strap. Fine scarlet wool showed at the cloak’s opening.

Something about this youth seemed familiar. “Who are you?”

“I’ll have my answer first!” He chided with a smile that nudged her memory. “Sit.” He indicated a place beside him.

She gaped at the bronzed statue of Talan astride his wingabeast in the fountain’s center as she perched on the pool’s wide rim of stone a little distance from the youth.

“I await your reply.” His voice made her jump. “Who are you? I’ll vow we’ve not met before. Are you some creature of magic? You sprang from the garden like a wraith, and I’ll swear you carry mysteries.”

She laughed, the sound loud in the gloaming. “I hope it will not disappoint you to learn I am merely Shae of Whellein, sister of Kai.”

“Kai’s sister?” The youth smiled. “Are you rested from your journey, then?”

“You’re Elcon!” She placed him at last. “I-I mean, High Prince—Lof Frael Elcon.” She bowed her head.

Elcon inclined his own head. “How do you know me when we’ve never met?” His voice carried an edge.

“By your smile.”

“Oh yes?”

“It belongs also to your mother.”

A shadow passed over his face. “True, I’m told. And what do you know of my mother?”

“Enough to love her.”

“Well said.” He smiled at her. “How have we not met before this?”

“I’ve not ventured far beyond Whellein.”

“And Whellein lies across the Maegrad Ceid—so distant I’ve not ventured much that direction.”

“Your mother came but seldom.”

“I’ve traveled a corner of Whellein. I remember great mountains and flats crowded with gnarlwoods and kabas and cut by a rushing weild.” He frowned. “It seemed a good, simple land.”

“And Rivenn is not?”

He tilted his head. “Rivenn is complicated and difficult—but also wonderful.”

She gave no response, not wanting to call him back from whatever vistas of memory he wandered. Birdsong filled the silence between them until Elcon at last stirred. “Kai must show you more of Rivenn than Torindan Hold. How long do you stay?”

She shook her head and bent to trail a hand in silken water. With a glimpse of silver, a fish darted to the surface, then dove again as ripples sparkled across the pool’s surface. “I don’t know when I’ll return to Whellein. Your mother summoned me to comfort her last days.”

He looked away. “In that case, may your stay be lengthy.”

She watched a flurry of white elder petals from a limb arching overhead cascade into the pool. “I join my wish with yours.”

“’If wishes be true, what claim have we to glory?’ After quoting the ancient saying Elcon gave a wry smile. “This day, the Lof Raelein passed to me the Sword of Rivenn and the Scepter of Faeraven. Rulership now rests on me.”

“Then I spoke amiss. I should have called you Lof Shraen Elcon.”

“You name my position, but not my title until my coronation.” His silence sketched what he failed to say—that his coronation would take place after his mother’s funeral.

A finger of wind ran along Shae’s collarbone and made her shiver. “Lof Raelein Maeven seems much improved.”

He inclined his head. “She does, but I should return to her. I slipped away for a time only.”

“I’ll accompany you, if I may.”

“Yes, come with me. You should not seek the garden alone. It may seem safe within the walls of Torindan, but welkes can venture this far west and may even slip past the archers who keep watch. There’s no danger now, since they seek their roosts by twilight, but welke attacks are not our only reason for caution.” The obscure remark and his shadowed expression reminded her just how far from home she’d come.

“You warn me, yet risk yourself freely.” The words came without thought, and she wished she could take them back.

Elcon’s expression warned her she went too far, but then he laughed. “Well spoken, Shae of Whellein. I should heed my own words and use more caution. In truth, I sought nature’s solace to escape duties I should embrace.” He turned. “
Look
at the sky.”

She watched with him the fiery death of day.

Night blackened the sky, lighting moon and stars and turning shadows purple. They walked beneath blackened strongwoods where starflowers glowed with pale light and released a heady fragrance. From somewhere near a night bird gave its lament, long and low.

10

Storm and Fury

A burst of sound and a flurry of movement mingled with the tang of smoke and spices to invade Shae’s senses as she entered the great hall. Flames leapt in the hall’s three fireplaces. Torches flared and flickered against the stone walls. Velvet hangings covered tall, arched windows against the night. Servants scurried to serve those who made merry at over-laden strongwood tables. The dissonance of instruments being tuned in the minstrel’s gallery rose above the din.

Kai cut a swath through the crowd to a table where several guardians lounged. Shae, trailing behind, jumped at a touch on her arm. She glanced down. Freaer’s eyes, shaded into darkened pools, snared hers. She shifted to step away, but he caught her arm. Her heart kicked up a beat, and a tingle of discomfort ran down her spine. She tried to pull free, but his fingers tightened.

He spoke, but the noise swallowed his words. She bent forward, and his breath caressed her ear. “Your foot—does it pain you?”

She summoned a smile. “It feels better, thank you.” She tried again to pull away, but his fingers on her arm tightened again, biting into her muscle. Unwilling to create a scene, she went still. “I really should join my brother.”

“You look beautiful by torchlight.”

She said nothing, but at the beauty of his slow smile could not slow the rapid rise and fall of her chest. His gaze traveled over her and then onward to Kai, who laughed with Craelin, oblivious of her plight.

The pressure on her arm eased. “Go to your brother if you must, but mark you, our conversation has just begun.”

She fled from him, her face warm. Kai hailed her, drew her to his side, and presented her to the five guardians at the table. Breathless and grateful that speech was not necessary, she smiled and inclined her head to each in turn.

Kai seated Shae beside him, but ignored her as he entered into a discussion of marksmanship. Servants brought platters of venison with roasted onion, winterberry sauce, creamed yellowroot, an unfamiliar green vegetable and dainty blue crobok eggs. Kai tackled his food with appetite, but Shae picked at hers. After the encounter with Freaer, her stomach churned.

The cup of cider warmed her hand as she sipped from it, and she let the babble lull her, content to watch Kai consume the last of the honey cakes.

The torches flared with sudden zeal to brighten all but the upper reaches of the cavernous hall. They wavered and dimmed to bring an uncertain half-light. A storm built outside, it seemed. Kai’s discussion progressed from hunting to the taming and handling of wingabeasts.

Shae hid a smile and gazed at the animated faces about her, careful to keep her gaze averted from Freaer. She couldn’t shut out the sound of his voice, though, and it threaded through many voices to find her. His laugh rang out, and without thought, she turned her head toward him. She recognized her mistake too late, for his gaze waited to capture hers.

She pressed a hand to her brow, surprised she had no fever. What madness assailed her? The harder she tried to ignore Freaer, the more she noticed him. When he reached for his cup, she caught the movement. When he laughed, she heard it. The gleam of torchlight gilding his hair did not escape her. Worse, he seemed to sense—even revel in—her attention.

“What’s wrong?” Kai asked at her sigh. “You seem flushed.”

She avoided his light, probing gaze. How could she explain what she did not understand? “It’s nothing.”

He touched her forehead. “Are you fevered?”

She shook her head.

He looked her full in the face. “What then?”

“Please, it’s nothing.” But she couldn’t keep from glancing past him to Freaer

“
I
see.
” With a nod to Freaer, who raised his cup in mock salute, Kai turned back to her. “Does he trouble you?”

She looked at her hands, which clasped one another in her lap. “What do you mean?”

“Only that you’re—unsettled. Is your discomfort about Lof Raelein Maeven’s death song or something more?”

“The death song?” In truth, she’d all but forgotten it. “Freaer
wants
me to sing it.”

His brows lifted. “You’ve spoken to him? What did he say?”

“Little.” She remembered the way Freaer had studied the flames in the fireplace while she questioned him. He looked anything but pensive now. Laughing as he jumped to his feet and took up his lute, he bounded to the minstrel’s gallery and joined in a rousing chorus of “Lof Shraen Timraen’s Glory.”

“
Risen son of Rivenn’s sons,

Lof Shraen while still a youth,

Timraen spent his time in prayer—

Seeking wisdom, guidance, and truth.

“He shared his bread, gave his gold,

Listened to the downtrodden,

Comforted the overcome,

Called every Elder friend.

“None could find a mark so true,

Nor wield a sword as well,

Yet the strength he found in mercy,

No other shraen can tell.”

“When garns besieged Pilaer,

The fortress could not stand,

And Lof Shraen Shaelcon fell

At the garn chief’s hand.

“His father lost, Timraen fled

To cheat the garn’s demand.

He came at last to Braeth

And sheltered in that land.

“Timraen, son of Shaelcon,

Led Faeraven’s shraens to fight

The Battle of Krei Doreinn,

There to break the garn’s might.

“Braeth now lay in ruin.

For as battle raged without

The fortress fell within,

Bringing forth a rout.

“His Krei Doreinn victory

Now tasted like defeat.

Yet Timraen persevered

To regain the ancient seat.

“Timraen, son of Shaelcon,

Led Faeraven’s shraens to fight

The Last Battle of Pilaer

There to break the garn’s might.

“Tales of shraens and glory

Begotten in Pilaer

Ever tell the story

Of victory most fair.

“Timraen won fair Maeven

From the garn chief of Triboan.

He stood in war but fell to love.

Maeven’s heart became his own.”

“Timraen, son of Shaelcon,

Found his father, not yet dead,

In the dungeons of Pilaer

And brought him life instead.

“Risen son of Rivenn’s sons,

Brought low while still a youth—

A false arrow cut him down,

But could not steal his truth.”

The music ebbed. The crowd, caught by its mood, did not stir as the last strains faded to silence.

“Did he seem angry?” Kai asked.

Shae stared at Kai and forced her mind back to the conversation about the death song. “I’m not sure.”

Freaer leaped from the minstrel’s gallery to land beside Shae. With his head tilted at a rakish angle and enticement in every line of his bearing, he smiled and offered her his hand. Guffaws and good-natured suggestions rang out.

She stared back at him while her cheeks flamed. She could neither take the hand nor refuse it.

A murmur of discontent arose from the crowd at her hesitation, but with it a counterpoint of approval.

Shae swallowed against a dry throat. “I cannot.”

With a veiled expression, Freaer stepped back. His arm dropped to his side. He turned away, bearing her rejection with apparent ease, and drew another maiden, golden-haired and plump, from the crowd. Laughter followed. A burst of music from the gallery filled the hush that fell. Other dancers jumped up to join in.

The touch of a hand recalled her. She knew without looking that it belonged to Kai. “Come. It grows late.” He pressed her against his side, and she leaned into his warmth, a haven from her turmoil. He escorted her from the hall and accompanied her down corridors and up staircases. His silence weighed upon her but, absorbed in her own thoughts, she could think of nothing to say.

What wordless thing had happened between herself and Freaer? She’d felt the first, wonderful-awful stirrings of infatuation before, when Pawel, a son of Daeramor raven, visited Whellein. Nothing had come of it, of course, but vague dreams. Those feelings had been like a sweet-sad nocturne. She put a hand to her throat as if the action could quiet her racing heartbeat. The feelings that gripped her now weren’t sad, nor were they sweet. A wild strain infused this music with dark fascination.