Part 12 (1/2)
He looked up, abruptly solemn, yet she couldn't tell if he were sincere or merely arranging the expression she wanted to see.
”Dweomer means everything to you, doesn't it?”-he said.
”It does. More than meat and drink, more than life.”
”More than love.”
”Unquestionably, considering,”
”Alas, my poor brother! I don't suppose he'll ever understand why you chose the dweomer over him. No more do I suppose that you particularly care if he does or not.”
”That's not fair.”
He winced at the bite in her voice, ”Look.” Jill tried another tack. ”I know the basic exercises and suchlike can be tedious. Why, when I was learning all the proper calls and salutes for the elemental kings and lords, I thought I'd go out of my mind from sheer boredom. But it's been more than worth it. Now I can travel where I will in their worlds and see the marvels there. But you know about that. You've had a taste of it yourself. I simply can't understand how you wouldn't want more.”
”I don't have your devotion to the art,”
”Oh, horses.h.i.+t!”
”Ah, the silver dagger's daughter still!” He looked up from his work with a grin, then let it fade. ”But horses.h.i.+t it's not, my friend, my dear and treasured companion. Jill, when you want somewhat, you're so single-minded that it takes my breath away. The rest of the world's not like that.”
”I'm not talking about the rest of the world.”
”Oh, very well, then. I'm not like that.”
Jill hesitated, struggling to understand.
”Well,” he went on. ”You had your own doubts about taking up the art, didn't you?”
”True spoken. But that's when I didn't know what it offered. You do know. I honestly don't see how you could get so far and then give it up.”
”Ah. It's because you do the work out of love, while I have only duty and grim obligation as my whip and spur.”
”You honestly and truly don't love the dweomer work?”
”I should have thought that such would be obvious after all these years.”
She knew him well enough to know that he was skirting the edge of a lie.
”Well here, consider this.” Salamander spoke quickly, before she could pin him down. ”Wasn't your father the greatest swordsman in all Deverry? Didn't he gain great glory for himself wherever he rode-the silver dagger, the lowly outcast of a silver dagger, who put the best fighting men in the kingdom to shame? But did he relish that life? Did he revel in his glory and his position? Far from it!”
”Well, true spoken. What are you driving at?”
”Only that a man may have great skill and talent and not give a pig's fart about the life they lead him to.”
”And do you feel that way about the dweomer?”
”Not exactly, literally, precisely, or even in substance. A mere example only.”
But at that exact moment his thumb slipped on the knife, and he sliced his hand. With a yelp he tossed both bird and blade onto the wagon bed and started cursing himself and his clumsiness. Blood welled and ran.
”You'd better let me bind that for you,” Jill said. ”I hope that wretched knife was clean.”
”Doesn't matter. The cut's deep enough to wash itself out.”
It was, too, though mercifully not deep enough to cause permanent harm. Later Jill was to remember that accident and its unconscious confession only to curse herself for not seeing the meaning at the time, Among the Host, Evandar's people, Dallandra searched on a sunny day through a meadow, bright with flowers of red and gold. In their bright clothes and golden jewelry, the Host too bloomed like flowers amid the tall green gra.s.s, 'and as always, their exact numbers eluded her. Even in the sunlight of a summer noon, shadow wrapped them round, blurring the boundaries that define a person for us in our world. Out of the corner of her eye she would see a pair of young girls, sitting gossiping on the gra.s.s, turn to look and find a bevy giggling together, then rising to run away like a flock of birds taking flight. Or it would seem that under the shade of an enormous tree a band of minstrels played, their conjoint music so sweet that it pierced her heart, yet she would find but one man with a single lute. Like flames in a fire or ripples in a stream, they became distinct and separate only to fall back again and meld.
Some of the Host, though, remained discrete, with minds and personalities of their own. Evandar himself, of course, and his daughter, Elessario, were the two she knew best, but there were others, men and women both, who wore names and faces like a mark of honor. In the dancing sunlight they waved in greeting or called out some pleasant remark as she made her way across.
”Have you seen Elessario?” she would ask, but always the answer was no.
By the meadow's edge a river flowed, and at that moment it flowed broad and smooth. At other times she had seen it narrow and churning with white water or come upon it to find a swamp and nothing more, but at the moment the broad water sparkled in the sun, and green rushes stood at the bank like sword blades stuck into a treaty ground. Out among them on one leg stood a white heron.
”Elessario!”
The heron turned its head to consider her with one yellow eye, then rippled like the water and became a young woman with impossibly yellow hair, wading naked to the bank. Dallandra offered a hand and helped her clamber out. Elessario picked up a tunic from the gra.s.sy bank and pulled it over her head. Although at first glance she seemed beautiful, with human ears but elven eyes, at second glance one noticed that the eyes were as yellow as her hair, cat-slit with emerald-green, and that her smile revealed sharp-pointed teeth.
”Did you need me for something, Dalla?”
”I did. Come see something with me.”
Hand in hand like mother and child they wandered downriver, looking for Bardek. Here in the world of the Guardians, as the elves named Evandar's people, images could become real rather easily, that is, for those with minds trained to build them. First Dallandra created an image of Jill in her mind, as clear and as detailed as possible; then she moved this image out through her eyes onto the landscape-a mental trick, that, and not true dweomer, strange though it sounds to those who don't know how to do it. These mental images were lifeless things, even in this world, and broke up fast like a picture imagined in a cloud or a fire. Every now and then, though, one image would linger for a while longer or seem brighter and more solid. With a fascinated Elessario trailing after, Dallandra would walk to that spot and cast another round of images. Every time, one of the new crop would become solid and endure long enough to point out the next step of their journey.
As they followed these clues, the landscape changed round them. The river narrowed, ran shallow; the lush gra.s.s withered till brown and dry. They pa.s.sed big boulders, pus.h.i.+ng up through thin earth, and eventually found a graveled road, leading forward into mist. All at once, twilight turned the world an opalescent gray, shot with lavender.
”Here we are,” Dallandra said. ”Come look at a city of men.”
In the mist they seemed to float, like birds hovering on the wind, then spiraled down and down in ever-twisting arcs till at last the mist vanished in a starry sky. Below lay a white city, s.h.i.+mmering in the heat of a Bardek evening. Here and there in the dark streets a gold point of light bobbed along, a lantern carried in someone's hand. Down in the center of town a vast sea of lamps flickered among the brightly colored banners and booths of the public market. Around this small geometry of streets and light stretched the dark and arid plain out to a horizon glowing faint green with the last of sunset, With a little gasp of delight Elessario began gliding down, following the drift of music that came to them, but Dallandra caught her arm.
”Not now, I'm afraid. It is lovely, isn't it?”
”Shall I see marvels like this once I've been born, Dalla?”
”Well, yes.” Dallandra hesitated, caught between truth and sadness. ”But you know, they probably won't seem so marvelous. You'll take them for granted, then, like we all do.”
One last image of Jill pointed their way to a caravanserai out on the edge of town. Among a scatter of palm trees horses and mules drowsed at tether, and human beings wandered back and forth. Fires bloomed here and there, but far off to one side a silver-blue pillar of water force, glowing like a beacon to guide them down, rose from a fountain. Beside it, sitting with her feet tucked under her on a little bench, was Jill. To Dallandra it seemed that they walked up to her in the usual manner, but judging from the way Jill yelped in surprise, she must have seen them appear all at once.
”Jill, I've brought Elessario. She's the one who'll lead her people into our world.”
”You're very brave, then, Elessario.” Jill got up to greet them. ”I salute you.”
The child stared back, all solemn eyes and sudden shyness.
”Does she truly understand what all this means, Dalla?” Jill went on.
”I hope so.”
”You'd best make sure of it. To put this burden on someone without them truly knowing what they're doing is-”
”But, Jill, if they don't come through, her people will die. Fade away. Vanish. And until one makes the journey, none will.”