Part 71 (1/2)

Anne wins. She has the child she wanted, the husband she l.u.s.ted after, but she has kept her body pure, a matter of great importance to her, who thinks of all other human beings as tainted and unworthy. Bernard stays, because he is completely compromised now, because he is guilty, because he has learned the meaning of fear.

He stays. He names the infant after an ancient sorceress he read of in a book years ago while sojourning in Arethousa: Li'at'dano, the centaur shaman, mentioned in the old chronicles many times over many generations. Some called her undying. All called her powerful beyond human ken. In the western tongue the consonants soften to make the baby Liathano.

He calls her Liath.

He stays with the Seven Sleepers, toiling under Anne's unwavering and unforgiving gaze, caring for his beloved child, until the day eight years later when the fire daimones come looking for their missing sister. Time pa.s.ses differently in the upper spheres; an eye-blink may encompa.s.s months and the unfurling of a wing years.

That is when he flees with his daughter. That is when he expends the untapped potential of his own magical powers to lock away her soul and her power, which s.h.i.+ne like a beacon, so that no one can follow them. Especially not Anne. Especially not the fire daimones, kin to the woman-creature he loved and murdered.

Did he run to save himself? To save Liath? Or to save the only thing he has left of the woman-creature he loved? Did he lock away Liath's true self to hide her from Anne's machinations, or to conceal her from her mother's kin, so that they could never find her and take her away from him?

Anger was a river of fire, molten and destructive but also cleansing and powerful. She never understood until now how much she despised Da for being weak. At moments she even hated him because she loved him, because she wanted him to be strong when maybe he never could be, because maybe all along without knowing it consciously she guessed that he loved someone else more than he loved her. Because she hated herself for being weak, hated that part of herself, broken and crippled, that had chained her for so long.

The river of the past, that which binds us because it has already woven its chains around us, flowed easily and without any obvious transition into the future, the unreachable destination where we are blinded by possibility, by hope, by unexamined anger, and by fear. She walked into the future with the river of fire streaming around her and she saw King Henry strangled by a daimone as a pretty child resembling Queen Adelheid mounts the imperial throne, her mother standing protectively beside her.

Sister Rosvita, aged and leprous, lies dying in a dungeon. A discarded shoe, its leather eaten away by rats or maybe by her, rests just beyond her outstretched hand.

The Lion, Thiadbold, who more than once showed her kindness, drinks himself into a stupor in a filthy tavern by sipping ale out of a bowl. He has lost both his hands but somehow survived. Isn 't it a worse fate to live as a cripple, helpless except for what leavings others throw to you as to the dogs ?

Ivar on trial for heresy before the skopos. The Holy Mother Anne condemns him and his companions to death, but he smiles, wearily, as if death is the outcome he has been seeking all along. Hanna dead, by her own hand. The wounds that killed her cannot be seen on her skin.

Sanglant, still fighting and always fighting because he will never give up until his last breath, as the she-griffin strikes for his exposed chest.

Blessing stands by a window. Liath scarcely recognizes this magnificent creature, newly come to womanhood, tall like her father and with a creamy brown complexion, eyes green, or blue, depending on how the light strikes them or on the color of gown she is wearing. She is as beautiful as all the promises ever made to a beloved child. Then the door opens, and the girl turns. She shrinks back. Pride and youthful confidence turn to terror as the man who has come to claim her for his bride steps through the door.

”Hugh!”

Liath screamed her outrage as anger bloomed into wings at her back. Her kinsfolk, wings hissing in the aether and voices booming and muttering like thunder, stepped back to give her room as she leaped up and out of the river of fire.

Despite everything, Da had not abandoned her. Nor would she abandon her own child. Never would she abandon her own child.

Yet was it already too late?

Because Da did nothing but run the last years of his life, he had taught Liath to run, to turn away, to hide herself. She couldn't even truly love the ones she wanted to love, because she could not reach out to them, not with her heart entire. She had taken the key and thrown it away long ago, escaping from Hugh, but she hadn't understood then that she had also walled herself away, that the city of memory Da had taught her to build in her mind's eye was another barrier against those who sought to embrace her with friends.h.i.+p and love.

Ivar had never threatened her. But she had seen his infatuation as a threat. She had disdained him because she did not know how to be his friend.

Hanna had given her friends.h.i.+p without asking anything in return, but Liath had walked away from her to go with Sanglant.

Yet she had not even been able to love Sanglant with a whole heart. She had loved him for his body and his charisma but she had never truly known him. He remained a mystery; despite his protestation that he was no onion with layers of complexity and meaning to be uncovered, he was not as simple as all that. No one ever is. She had never looked to see what lay beneath the surface, because the surface was easy enough to polish and keep bright.

Ai, G.o.d, even Blessing. She had watched Sanglant love the baby unreservedly. But she had always held a part of herself back, the crippled part, the part that had never learned to trust.

The part that was afraid of being vulnerable, killed by love, and by hope, and by trust again, and again. And again.

”No,” she said, from this height looking down over the glorious palaces and the river of fire, looking down at her kinsfolk gathered in a flock beneath, hovering halfway between the heavy silver sheet of the sky and the river's flas.h.i.+ng, molten surface.” I'm not ready to leave them behind because I don't even know them yet.”

She opened herself to the measure of their wings and let them see into her heart, into the burning bright soul that was the gift her mother had given her.” Maybe this will be my home one day,” she added, ”but it can't be now.”

”Child,” they said, in love and as a farewell.

What need had they to mourn her leaving? The span of one mortal's years on Earth might pa.s.s in the same span it took to cross one of those s.h.i.+mmering bridges that linked the golden palaces: a thousand steps, or a song. Her soul was immortal, after all, and half her substance was fire.

She could return.

”So be it,” she said. Eldest Uncle had taught her that in the secret heart of the universe the elements can be illuminated, touched, and molded. She reached, found fire, and drew out of the invisible architecture of the aether the burning stone that marks the crossroads between the worlds.

Blue fire flared all along its length. She stepped through to find herself landing with a surprisingly hard thump in the midst of flowers, heavenly blues, blood-soaked reds, and so many strong golds and piercing whites that her eyes hurt. Her b.u.t.tocks and hips ached from the impact, and even her shoulders were jarred. She was stark naked, hair falling loose past her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and down her back. In a heap beside her lay her cloak and boots, her clothes, her sword, belt, and knife, and her quiver, although it was empty. All her arrows were missing. Her bow and Sanglant's gold torque lay tumbled on top, as though all this had fallen here in company with her descent.

She was back in the meadow of flowers, in Aoi country.

Still shaking, she reached out to touch the cold, braided surface of the gold torque, frowning as she picked it up, no longer hers to claim. No longer hers to fear and retreat from.

Anne is not my mother.

She laughed out loud, awash in an exhilarating sense of freedom.

”So,” said a man's harsh voice not ten paces away, ”more than one day and one night have pa.s.sed, Bright One. Feather Cloak's protection no longer s.h.i.+elds you. Now I will have your blood to make my people strong.”

Startled, she looked up to see fully fifty As.h.i.+oi surrounding her, fearsome animal masks pulled down to conceal their faces. Every one held a weapon, and the one in front had lowered his spear to point at her heart.

Cat Mask and his warriors had come to kill her.

HOME.

He had come home, and Adica was here, whole and alive, waiting for him, just as he had hoped and prayed and dreamed. For the longest time he simply held on to her, wanting never to let her go, breathing in the lavender scent of her hair, but at last he became aware of the hounds b.u.t.ting into them and the villagers, around them, waiting to greet him.

That, too, took a while. Even Beor laughed to see him, and he was surprised how happy he was himself to see all these familiar, cheerful faces. His people, now. His home.

He had to make Sos'ka and her comrades known to Adica and Mother Weiwara. In fact, he had to interpret for them all since the Horse people did not speak a tongue known to the tribes of the White Deer folk. The centaurs made a pretty obeisance to Adica, honoring her as a Hallowed One, and it was agreed that they would stay until after the dark of the sun to help protect her and only then return to their own tribe. All the children wanted a ride, and the haughty centaurs relented enough to let the youngsters be helped up onto their backs. Meanwhile, Urtan, Beor, and the other men insisted on showing Alain the hard work the villagers and other work parties had done over the spring, summer, and early autumn.

”See what a fine palisade we've built!” boasted Beor, as though he had achieved a personal victory against the Cursed Ones by hoisting logs into place.” Although I notice that you came back only after all the hard work was done.”

”Queens' Grave is ringed by a wall!” exclaimed Alain, amazed by how the wood posts changed the aspect of the great tumulus, making it look rather like a slumbering porcupine.” How could you have done that in only two seasons?”

”We had work parties from all the other villages, Two Streams, Pine Top, Muddy Walk, Old Fort, Four Houses. Even Spring Water. It took us all summer to build it, and I think we must have felled the forest all the way from here to Four Houses!” All the men laughed, but no one disagreed.

”Who cares about the work we did?” cried Kel.” You must tell us all the things you saw!”

”I hope you will,” agreed Urtan, chuckling, ”if only to keep this fly from buzzing all day. We haven't had a moment's peace from him since you left.”

”You should have taken me with you!” protested Kel when all the men laughed.” I wouldn't have faltered! When will you tell us the tale of your journey?”

”Patience,” replied Alain, laughing with the others, although in truth he was looking around to see where Adica had gone. She had retreated from the village quietly, with all the attention s.h.i.+fting to the centaurs and to him, and he finally spotted her in the distance by the birthing house, finis.h.i.+ng some hallowing task.

Urtan chased the other men away, even Kel.” Go on,” he said.

Alain hurried along the river to the birthing house, the hounds loping alongside, but he was careful not to cross the fence onto ground where only women were granted leave to walk. On the other side, Adica picked flower petals off the ground, expression pensive as she searched among the low gra.s.s for each precious one, those that hadn't blown away. Had she changed so much since the first time he had seen her, or had he?

She had certainly seemed attractive, that day almost a year ago, especially wearing that provocative corded skirt whose every s.h.i.+ft along her thighs revealed skin and glimpses of greater mysteries, but he would not have called her pretty, not with a slightly crooked nose, the livid burn scar on her cheek, an overly-generous mouth, and a narrow chin.