Dawnsinger (2 page)

“In that you follow the habit of all Kindren. But you disregard wisdom to seek nature alone. I’ll warrant our mother has no knowledge of your whereabouts. I thought you old enough to leave such mischief behind. You must stop this carelessness, Shae. Even within Whellein in these times of peace, the lands outside our stronghold are not safe.”

She murmured an acknowledgment and broke contact with a gaze that had become too piercing. How could she explain the need that drew her from the constraints of life and into the freedom of nature, if only for a time?

“And the tears?”

She shrugged and looked past his ear. “I tripped on my cloak and fell.”

“But you have no cloak.”

Despite the morning chill, she’d been too preoccupied to notice its absence. She forced a smile that wavered. “I must have lost it when—when I heard you coming.”

“Where did you lose it? I’ll help you look.”

“In the garden. Kai, I welcome your company but regret keeping you from your rest.”

His hand cupped her chin and tilted her face. “What brings the tremor to your voice? Did something frighten you?”

“
No
.” She pulled away and ignored the puzzled glance he gave her. She still did not understand what she had seen. How could she explain the unexplainable?

“I’ll lead while you ride Flecht.” Kai guided her onto the wingabeast’s back. “Now, where did you lose your cloak?”

She looked down at him, her hands tangled in Flecht’s
silken mane. She would have felt more secure if Kai had ridden with her, but he seemed happy to walk. Perhaps he meant to spare her contact with his sodden clothing. She guided him to the emerald cloak, puddled below the whispan tree. Kai gathered it, and she accepted the rough woolen garment with thanks.

Mottled light swept the garden, creating an illusion of movement. The air rippled, on the edge of hearing, with the bittersweet song of a wingen.

Shae sucked in a breath, and her gaze flew to the whispan tree, but its branches remained innocent and bare.

****

Flecht quivered under Kai’s hand. Shae must have communicated to the beast the tension he read in her face. Why did she stare at the naked branches of the small, white tree? He drew his brows together but didn’t speak. Her eyes, so green they reminded him of deep shadows in an old forest, told him nothing. As she settled the cloak upon her shoulders, burnished tangles cascaded down her back. She looked beautiful and far too grown.

Something had upset Shae—that much seemed obvious. Equally obvious was her desire for privacy in the matter. Well, he didn’t question such things. He already held enough secrets to quell any desire for more.

After his long ride, Kai relished the chance to walk. But he should not linger further. He swung into the saddle behind Shae and reached around her for the reins.
Flecht
adjusted to the additional burden with trained ease. Shae relaxed against him, and Kai smiled to himself at the small gesture of trust. Would that it could always be so between them.

Kai led Flecht to the path, and the wingabeast’s hooves rang against stone in a steady cadence as the garden fell away behind them. The ancient fortress rose before them sullen and gray, while the fields and orchards beyond glowed with new light. The sharp scent of tilled soil and fresh herbs carried on the wind as they passed into the shadow of Whellein Hold.

They entered the ancient fortress through the gatehouse archway beneath the raised iron portcullis. Following the graystone path along the sward, they skirted the great hall, which rose to impressive heights.

As they neared the stables, voices, thuds, and the rustlings of crisp straw reached Kai. He dismounted and lifted his arms to Shae. Light as she was, he had to step backward when she leaned into him. He steadied them both, and then turned to instruct the groom. When Kai looked for her again, Shae was gone. A smile touched his mouth as he went through an archway in the inner curtain wall. He would keep his knowledge of Shae’s morning activities to himself.

His mother’s voice carried past her maid,
Tahera, at her parlor
door. “Let us start with soup of boar sausage and wild greenings dressed in sweetberry vinegar, then follow with smoked whitefish in savory sauce and—”

“I hope you have enough for one more.” Kai entered the snug room.

A gold-edged mirror above the ornate mantle reflected his mother, Aleanor of Whellein’s surprise and delight. She rose and pressed her slight frame into his swift embrace.

Kai held her at arm’s length to gaze upon her. How long had it been since he’d seen her calm gray eyes and basked in her smile? He marked, with sadness, the progress of time across her face. Furrows marred a brow once smooth, and lines fanned from the corners of eyes that sparkled. His mother wore a simple woolen tunic of blue, girt with an embroidered sash. Her silver hair coiled in braids about her head.

She smiled. “We have stores aplenty for a Son of Whellein. But how come you by morn and not by eve?”

“I did not stop the night. I couldn’t contain my excitement at nearing home.” His gaze drifted past her to the muscular Cook garbed in a brown tunic, who smiled at their exchange.

Mother met Kai’s look. “I think we shall continue later, Maeric,” she said without seam. “I won’t detain you from your duties longer. Tahera, please bring cider, cheese and bread.”

The door to the raelein’s parlor closed with a click behind Maeric and Tahera, and they were alone.

Kai went to the fire, grateful for its comfort as he steeled himself for what he would say.

“You must sit.” His mother gestured in invitation as she resumed her seat on the bench. “Now tell me what has brought you on such a difficult journey.”

“I’ve come for Shae.”

Mother let out her breath in a long sigh. “And so I am to lose another child.”

“Lof Raelein Maeven sends for her while on her deathbed.”

Her hand flew to her throat. “The time has come, then.”

“It nears, yes.” He ignored a frisson of uneasiness. Of course, he spoke of more than Maeven’s death. “It’s long past time Shae learns her true identity as
Raena
Shaenalyn of Rivenn. On her dying bed, Lof Raelein Maeven yearns for her daughter.”

His mother squared her shoulders as if recovering from a blow. “I thought I had prepared myself for this, and yet…” Her voice faded to a whisper.

“You’ve raised her well.”

She looked down at the hands clasped in her lap. “I wish I’d done more to treat her as one of my own.”

Kai knelt at her feet. “You did your best. Ever since I brought her to you as a babe in arms, you’ve kept her hidden from those who would destroy her.”

Aeleanor raised eyes shiny with tears. “She’ll return to danger at Torindan.”

“You have my promise to protect her.” Each word fell from his lips by its own weight.

“When do you leave?”

He spoke with reluctance. “At first light.”

She arose and took the place at the fire he had vacated, putting her arms about herself as if cold. “I will not say goodbye to her. It is better so.”

Kai stood. For Shae’s sake, he wished his mother would look beyond her own needs. But he cut short the reply that rose to his lips. How could he censure her when he did not know her pain? He hesitated, and then lowered his voice. “Have you word of Daevin?”

Mother lifted her head, and he read in her face what he should have already known. He need not have worried his question would quicken his mother’s pain. She carried her missing son in her heart as surely as she had once carried him within her womb.

She shook her head and turned toward the fire. “None.”

The word echoed through his mind. Kai shouldered its weight, but wished again for the freedom to search for his brother.

He crossed to one of the tall windows overlooking the inner ward with its herb garden. New growth burgeoned in all its beds, ready to erupt with life. His hands clenched into fists. He wanted to rejoice in such things. He wanted to comfort his mother. He closed his eyes, shut in by his own dark thoughts.

A touch on his arm, feather light, called him back. He turned and read the plea in his mother’s face. “The Lof Raelein’s death will free you to return to Whellein, as your father wishes.”

He met her gray gaze and told her what she already knew. “My duty at Torindan calls for my pledge of service to Elcon when his mother dies.”

“Surely Elcon would not rob the House of Whellein so.” She clasped her hands together so hard the knuckles showed white.

“Mother, let us leave this conversation.” He put his hands over hers to still them. “You know I must decide my own course, for good or ill.”

Tahera returned, bearing on a tray a tankard of steaming cider, a selection of cheeses, and a fragrant loaf. Kai cleansed his hands in the laver the servant provided and fell upon the repast.

His mother sat silent while he ate. She would not try again to win his promise, but he knew she ceded the battle only.

2

Whellein Hold

The heavy door groaned shut and Shae pressed against it while she caught her breath. The great hall stood empty, which was just as well. She should still be abed, waiting to be roused by her maid. Catching her breath, she watched dust motes float in bars of light slanting through the tall windows, which overlooked the inner bailey’s herb garden.

Fresh rushes deadened her footfalls and sent up a warm scent overlaid with the pungent aromas of rosemary, mint, and lavender. Beneath a wide archway on one side of the chamber, Shae put her hand to the latch of a tall door carved with gryphons. She paused, caught by memory.

Beyond that same door, she’d once greeted Lof Raelein Maeven in her parents’ absence. Maeven had at first seemed little older than Shae, but when the silver threading her copper hair gleamed in the candlelight, Shae saw that the transparency of her skin mimicked the tallow in the candlebranch beside her. Despite these ravages, Maeven’s arching brows, fine nostrils and vivid eyes commanded awe.

As Maeven’s image dissipated, Shae lifted the latch. The door gave with a creak, and she entered the Allerstaed, the place of prayer. A musty scent, the smell of dust and disuse, emanated from wood and stone. Faint light followed her from the open doorway and a few indifferent sunbeams penetrated the grime coating three high windows above the altar. Her steps whispered across the graystone floors, and she sank to her knees onto the stone step below the altar.

“I’ve come about Lof Raelein Maeven.” Her voice rang loud in the stillness. She said no more, for words tangled in her mind. But Lof Yuel read her heart. If only she might read his in return, she could know the Lof Raelein’s fate. Weak light ebbed and flowed over her as outside, clouds effaced the sun. Sorrow carried her in its current.

“Why do you weep?” A voice reverberated through the chamber.

Shae raised her head. She recognized this voice.

An Elder youth crouched before her. She studied him, taking in his burnished skin, rounded somber eyes, and black hair. How could she have thought she knew his voice? She’d never seen him before. Her breath hitched. “
Who
are you?”

Twin grooves in his cheeks deepened. “Don’t be frightened. I am but a wayfarer.”

She stared at him. “No. You are more.”

He smiled. “Your heart speaks truth. I
am
a wayfarer…and I am more.” He stroked the tears from her cheeks, feather-light, like the touch of a draft.
“Peace.”
The whispered word brought infinite comfort.

Shae closed her eyes and breathed deep.

“Remember, Shae, you must look to the light.”

She opened her eyes, ready to ask how he knew her name.

She knelt alone in the Allerstaed.

What was this new vision? Perhaps prayer would show her its cause. Time stretched away, uncounted.

“Shaenalyn!”
A hard voice roused her.

She sat up and pushed hair from her eyes. “Katera?”

Her sister’s delicate face framed by long, pale hair peeked around the door. “I thought I might find you here.” Katera, resplendent in a tunic of yellow-dyed wool girded with links of gold, stepped into the chamber. “You should see yourself. You look like some spirit ready to fade if I blink.”

“Hush!” Shae spoke with more vigor than she intended. She lowered her voice. “Don’t say such things in this place!”

Katera made a face that failed to mar her loveliness. “You spend too much time in prayer. It has made you strange.”

Dampness from the stone step chilled her, and Shae shivered. She stood on cramped feet and did her best to smooth her garments and hair. How she wished she better resembled her twin. Katera would never fall asleep on an altar step, see visions, or suffer the stirrings of a restless fate. She seemed made for marriage, motherhood, and the joys of a quiet life.

Shae tried to stifle her envious thoughts. “Why do you seek me?”

Katera stepped through the doorway. “Mother sent me to find you. You must ready yourself for the evening meal.”

She noticed that hunger gnawed her stomach. “Is it so late then?”

Katera grinned. “You’ve been sleeping, have you? Such vigilance!”

Shae’s face grew hot. “I rested little in the night. Exhaustion must have claimed me.”

“Kai came early.” The statement made a question.

“He did. Has he spoken to Father yet?”

“I think not.” Her sister’s eyes narrowed. “What news had he to say to Father?”

Shae shook her head and looked away. “Kai must give his own news.”

****

Kai’s father, Shraen Eberhardt set his hands on the table in his meeting room and pushed to his feet. “You bring news of sorrow, but also, dare I say, of hope for Whellein.” Father brushed past Kai as he paced a well-worn path between table, fire, and window.

Kai did not flinch, but such words grated against his grief for Maeven. He remained silent, for he did not wish to discuss his father’s hopes now.

Father paused on his circuit to seat himself once more at the strongwood slab that dominated the chamber and dwarfed them both. He spoke, so low Kai leaned forward to hear. “I’ve had word of Daevin.”