Prophecy, Child of Earth (10 page)

The news of the Firbolg king had spread far and wide in a very short time.

There was some wisdom in hanging back, listening to the scuttlebutt from the ones who had won the shoving match to be the first in. They would be patently unable to refrain from gossiping about the sights they beheld and the deals they made; there were, after all, bragging rights as much among ambassadors as there were among benisons and lords. The game of pecking order and self-importance did not interest Shrike. Information did.

In the end, Shrike knew, it was the entree into Canrif that mattered. Any king crafty enough to engineer the defeat of a full brigade of Roland's warriors, led by the late great Rosentharn, Knight Marshal, would have already arranged for the emissaries to see what he wanted them to see and take away with them the impression he wanted them to have. A better strategy, perhaps, was to learn these things by word of mouth, and use his time in the chambers of Ylorc to observe what might
not
be on the agenda. Even the smallest detail might be useful to his master. He did not expect to discover anything consequential, because Shrike was a practical man.

can't stand this anymore, I am bored out of my gourd. Good night." Jo stood and slid her dagger back into his wrist sheath.

'Go ahead," said Achmed, checking the list. "There are only a few more." He had entertained twenty-seven representatives from various heads of state and the church, only two of which he had wanted to see; his gourd was numb, too.

'You keep yer 'ands outta those presents, now," warned Grunthor with a twinkle in his amber eyes. " 'Is Majesty gets to look through 'em first."

Jo scowled. "You know, I liked it a lot better before you were king, Achmed."

She strode out of the Great Hall and back to her chambers.

Achmed sighed. "So did I."

Che morning following their argument the interaction between the traveling companions was easier, less strained, than it had been in weeks. Rhapsody was at a loss to explain why, finally deciding that what had erupted was mutual suspicion that had been brewing over the course of their journey, unspoken until the night before.

It was odd; he had drawn on her, she had insulted him, and here they were, feeling more comfortable than they had since they had left Ylorc, almost like breaking a fever.
Being around the Boljj is making me strange
, she thought with an amused sigh. The appalling behavior of the men in her acquaintance, over i which her brothers would have felt the need to defend her honor, was now routine. All her male friends were rude to her.

Perhaps that was what she liked about Ashe. Unlike the other human men she knew, he treated her like a friend, or even a politely disinterested acquaintance. He was not constantly aroused; the detection of amorous intentions was a skill she had learned from Nana, the proprietor of the brothel in which she had lived in Serendair, and it served her well. She had come to realize that men existed in a state of almost permanent arousal, with a few exceptions. Ashe was one of them.

He treated her in a friendly, teasing manner, much the way her brothers had, dropping an occasional flirtation but never pressing it. Whether his platonic attitude toward her was a sign of disinterest or a problem with his physiology did not matter. It made for comfortable companionship, and she appreciated it.

Ashe knew she was under this misconception, and it made him breathe easier.

Nothing could be further from the truth. His mist cloak, his hated disguise from the eyes of world, was a blessing here. It shielded his longing for her, and his less-than-noble desires. Rhapsody's own strange abilities of self-deception played into the situation as well. So they went about their journey—he gave her no reason to be wary of his intentions, and she ignored any sign of them.

'•Che rains caught up with them, and the walking became arduous. The forest grew deeper as they journeyed west, making traveling slower. The snow around the base of the trees had melted, leaving rings of brown grass, the harbingers of warmer, if not better, weather.

One late afternoon, after a day of plodding through overgrown thickets and twisted patches of briars, they stopped at the edge of a bog. Rhapsody found a comfortable-looking pile of leaves within such a circle beneath an elm tree and dropped down into it wearily. Ashe backed away as she jumped up with a squawk, rubbinng her backside, and muttering ugly curses in the Firbolg tongue.

A moment later, when she had regained her composure, she knelt beneath the tree and brushed the leaves away, uncovering a large square stone with runes carved into it. The words were filled with dirt that had hardened with time.

Carefully she rubbed the crevices clean, then exhaled when she made out the inscription.

Cyme we inne frit, fram the grip of deap to lif inne dis smylte land,
The inscription was one Llauron had shown her long ago, the words Gwyl-liam had instructed his explorer, Merithyn, to greet anyone he met in his travels with, the words he had carved upon Elynsynos's cave.
Come we in peace from the grip of
death to life in this fair land
. "It's a Cymrian marker," she murmured, more to herself than aloud.

Ashe bent next to her to examine it. "Indeed," he said agreeably. "Do you recognize it?"

Rhapsody looked at him, puzzled. "What do you mean? If I knew it was here, do you think I would have injured myself on it?"

Ashe stood up again. "No," he said. "I was just wondering if perhaps you had seen it before."

'When would I have? If I had been here before, why would I need you to guide me?" She took off her cloak and laid it on the ground.

Ashe unslung his pack. "I thought perhaps you might have seen it when it was erected."

Rhapsody exhaled loudly in aggravation. This had become an old saw; he was continually dropping hints, making veiled reference to the First Generation Cymrians. She had determined early on he was trying to trip her up, attempting to make her reveal herself as one. This was the most blatant he had been so far.

'I'm really getting tired of this game," she said. "If you want to know if I sailed with the First Fleet, why don't you just ask me?"

Ashe stood up even straighter in evident surprise. "Did you?" "No."

'Oh." He seemed somewhat taken aback. "The Second? Third?"

'No. I've never been on any ship, except for rowboats and ferries."

'So you have never traveled from one land to another on the sea? You've walked everywhere you've traveled?"

Rhapsody thought back to her trek within the Earth along the Root and shuddered slightly. "Or ridden on horseback. Now, will you please desist?"

Ashe dropped his pack on the ground. "Desist?"

'You have been quizzing me about the Cymrians since we left, in subtle ways. I don't appreciate it."

'But you do know who they were?"

'Yes," she admitted, "but what I've heard about them I've learned from writings and students of history. So if you don't mind, I would appreciate you ending this cat-and-mouse game."

Ashe chuckled. "If I'm not mistaken, the way cat-and-mouse games end is by the cat eating the mouse." He pulled the cooking utensils out of his pack. "I assume I don't have to tell you which one of us is which in the analogy."

Rhapsody was gathering sticks and peat for the campfire she had started. "Is that something you'd like to do tonight?"

'Are you offering?" His tone was suggestive.

'Well," she said, bending over and picking up more fallen branches, "I think it can be arranged. After I get the fire going I'll hunt around and see if I can find you some small rodents for supper." She went about her gathering chore, and unconsciously began to whistle. A moment later Ashe recognized the tune. It was a hymn to the ancient harvest goddess, a song from the old land.

She was Cymrian; he was virtually certain of it. Ashe decided to try something else. He thought about the languages she would have used in the old world if she really was Cymrian, but his knowledge of Ancient Lirin was limited. He decided to try one comment in the archaic Lirin tongue first, then one in Old Cymrian. He waited until he could see her face on the other side of the fire.

'You know, Rhapsody, I find you extremely attractive," he said in the dead language Lirin language, then shifted into the tongue of the Cymrians. "I really love to watch you bend over." She gave him a strange look, but she said nothing, and the dragon did not sense any blood rise to her face in a blush. The furrow in her brow seemed more extreme at his first comment than his second; perhaps she had lived in a Lirin village, or a meadow longhouse, where the only language spoken was the Lirin tongue. He tried again.

'And you have the most incredible backside," he said, waiting to see the reaction. She turned to gather more peat, and fed it to the fire, seeming to grow annoyed.

'I don't understand you," she said, glaring at him through the smoke. "Please stop babbling at me." She heard him sigh as he returned to unpacking the utensils, waiting until his back was turned to allow the smile to take over her face.
Tahn,
Rhapsody, evet mama hidion
—Listen without rancor, Rhapsody, I think you are a beautiful magnet.
Abria, jirist kyst ovetis bee
—I love to watch you squat.
Kwelster
evet re marya
—you have the most beautiful muffins. It was all she could do to keep from choking with laughter. While his Old Cymrian was not too far off, his knowledge of Ancient Lirin was even more limited than he knew. And she spoke the truth, as always. She didn't understand him at all.

had taken to sitting shorter, more frequent watches, mostly because of her nightmares. After an hour or so of deep sleep, Rhapsody would invariably begin to toss and turn, muttering under her breath, sometimes crying, sometimes gasping as she woke in shock. Ashe wished he could comfort her when these dreams occurred, and thought often about waking her gently to save her from them, but he knew that she was probably prescient. If she was seeing visions of the Future it might be important to allow her to do so, no matter what it cost her. So he sat in frustrated sorrow and watched her suffer through the nights, sleeping lightly, to wake, trembling.

They spoke little during the day. It was the evening that eased the tensions and facilitated conversation. Darkness cloaked the forest; its sounds increased, along with the crackling of the fire and the whispering of the wind in the trees, so difficult to hear in the daylight. By day words seemed as though they were held up to the light, and so were used very little. The night hid them, made them safer, and so it was then Rhapsody and Ashe were able to exchange them.

They were but a few days out from their destination. Ashe had said they would make Elynsynos's lair by week's end. There was still a wide river to cross, and many more leagues to travel, but they were within reach.

There was a loneliness in the air that night. They had been walking in the forest so long that it was hard to recall when they were not surrounded by trees.

Rhapsody's sunset devotions seemed to be swallowed by the forest canopy, as if the songs themselves were suddenly too heavy to soar to the stars. She sat now on the rise of a small forest hill, watching those stars appear in the twilight one by one, to duck again behind the passing clouds that swallowed them intermittently. It put Rhapsody in mind of tiny minnows, their scales twinkling in the water of a dark lake, pursued by misty white predatory fish that consumed them and moved on.

'Rhapsody?" Ashe's voice broke her solitude. She turned in the direction of her shadowy companion. He was sitting at the fire's edge, its light flickering off his misty cloak, wrapping him in haze.

'Yes?"

'Do you feel safe here with me?"

She considered for a moment. "As safe as I do anywhere, I suppose."

The hooded figure looked up. "What does that mean?" His voice was soft, almost gentle.

Rhapsody looked into the sky again. "I guess I don't remember what feeling safe feels like."

Ashe nodded, and went back to his thoughts. A moment later he spoke again.

'Is it because of the dreams?"

Rhapsody pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

"Partly."

'Are you afraid of meeting Elynsynos?"

She smiled slightly. "A little."

Ashe picked up the kettle and poured himself another mug of tea. As if to |

make up for his rude behavior earlier in the trip, he was now drinking most of the pot over the course of a night, which she found amusing. "I could go in with you, if it would help."

Rhapsody thought about it, then shook her head. "I don't think that would be wise, but thank you."

'Have you ever felt safe?" He took a sip from the mug.

'Yes, but not for a long time."

Ashe thought about asking her what he wanted to know directly, but decided against it. "When?"

Rhapsody inched a little closer to the fire. She was feeling chilled suddenly and pulled her cloak around her shoulders.

'When I was still a young girl, I guess, before I ran away from home."

Ashe nodded. "Why did you run away?"

She looked up at him sharply. "Why does anyone run away? I was stupid and thoughtless and selfish; especially selfish."

He knew of other reasons people did. "And were you beautiful as a young girl?"

Rhapsody laughed. "Gods, no. And my brothers told me so constantly." Ashe laughed too, in spite of himself. "That's a brother's main job, keeping his sister in line."

'Do you have sisters?"

There was a long silence. "No," he finally answered. "So you were a late bloomer?"

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

'Isn't that the term for a girl who was, well, not beautiful as a child but becomes beautiful as a woman?"

Rhapsody looked at him strangely. "You think I'm beautiful?"

Beneath his hood Ashe smiled. "Of course. Don't you?"

She shrugged. "Beauty is a matter of opinion. I suppose I like the way I look, or at least I'm comfortable with it. It never really mattered to me whether other people did or not."

'That's a very Lirin attitude."