Moons' Dreaming (Children of the Rock) (38 page)

His thumb gently wiped away the single tear of angry despair that escaped her rigid control.
“
None of us is that important, little one. I believe more Dreamer children will be born. If not to you, then to someone else. You
’
re not alone. You
’
ve been given an opportunity, yes. But what you do with that opportunity is up to you. All I ask is that you give the matter some thought before you make your decision. Talk to Chasa. Get to know the people of Sitrine. You were happy, once, in Raisal.
”

“
I was happy in Garden Vale.
”

“
Your Majesty!
”

Sene jerked around at Felistinon
’
s warning shout. The guard was running for his pile of gear, pointing urgently into the darkness beyond the tumbled remains of the inn. Sene slid off the wall, grabbed Feather under the arms as if she were a child, and swung her up and over the low barrier. Before she could draw breath to protest he grabbed her by the hand and started to run, leaving her no choice but to run with him.

His wordless urgency lit the first spark of fear in her. The grass hissed past their legs, the thick growth hiding broken stones and half-rotted beams of wood that moved treacherously under her feet. Twice she tripped and almost fell, the king
’
s iron grip tugging her upright and onward.

“
What is it?
”
she gasped as he finally dropped her hand and slid to a halt next to his saddle. The last light had faded from the horizon, where a faint band of orange lingered at the edge of the arching blue-black of the night sky. Moonslight cast conflicting shadows over the wide plain, altering the shapes of familiar objects and making it difficult for Feather to judge distances. But Sene was right in front of her, and there was no mistaking the size of the sword he pulled from his saddle scabbard, or the deadly intent with which he spun to search the darkness.

She saw them at the same moment he did, crouching figures that clambered over the wall near the point where Felistinon had left Feather
’
s horse. The animal threw its head up and shied nervously as one of the figures broke away from the group and ran toward it. The corporal was nowhere to be seen.

“
Don
’
t move,
”
the king told her. Lifting his head he roared,
“
Stay away from that horse! Guards, attack!
”

The dark shape paused, then resumed its scurrying rush forward, one hand raised. Pale Keynlight glittered off a knife blade. The horse swerved awkwardly, its hindquarters bumping up against a section of wall. Feather
’
s throat went dry with helpless terror.

She didn
’
t hear the twang of a bowstring or the whirring flight of the arrow. Its feathered shaft seemed to materialize in the center of the man
’
s chest with the suddenness of Dreamer magic, stopping him in midstride. The horse neighed frantically at the sharp scent of blood and skittered away along the wall as the shadowy figure toppled over and vanished from view in the tall grass.

Then the rest of the dark shapes were running toward Sene, and Feather didn
’
t have time to think of anything except staying out of the way. The low wall at her back provided a little comfort. The steady support of Felistinon
’
s marksmanship provided more. From the corporal
’
s vantage point somewhere in the darkness he picked off three more of their enemies with well-placed shafts, leaving only five knifewielding adversaries for the king.

They had the advantage of numbers. Sene had the sword. If they had coordinated their attack they might have brought him down. Feather crouched low in the grass, hands searching desperately for something of manageable size she might use for a weapon. The first attacker died soundlessly, head flying one way, body falling the other as he ran straight into Sene
’
s sweeping sword stroke. Momentum carried Sene around to block two more jabbing knives. Another swift beheading. The third screamed high and bubbly as she fell, Sene
’
s back swing slicing her nearly in two.

The last two came at the king from opposite sides. Without seeming to hurry Sene turned and twisted, facing first one, then the other, sword whispering in the moonslight, its blade dark with blood. Feather heard a sound on the wall behind her. In a flurry of long legs and long hair Felistinon launched himself over her head, sword in hand. As he thrust his blade through the nearer man
’
s back, Sene dispatched the other one with a final neat, two-handed swing.

Without a word, king and guardsman turned their backs on one another. They circled slowly through the trampled grass, their eyes searching the ruins, the line of the broken wall, the empty plain beyond. The only sound in the night was Sene
’
s heavy, gradually slowing breathing.

Feather was ready to burst with tension by the time Sene lowered his sword and glanced over his shoulder at the corporal.
“
Well done.
”

Felistinon took one last look along the wall, then knelt to wipe his sword on the grass.
“
Do we leave them and move on?
”

Sene walked toward Feather. The coppery smell of blood hung around him like a cloud.
“
Are you hurt?
”

“
No, Sire.
”
She pushed herself upright, determined not to let him see how badly her knees were shaking.

He guessed anyway.
“
It
’
s never easy,
”
he said gently.
“
Still, I think we should stay here tonight. The bodies must be burned.
”
He glanced at Felistinon.
“
The wind
’
s in the north, I think.
”

“
Outside the wall?
”
the corporal replied. At Sene
’
s nod he said,
“
We
’
d better stake the horses.
”

“
I
’
ll be with you shortly.
”

Felistinon walked off to retrieve his bow. Feather stared at the crumpled, broken bodies scattered across the grass. Sene said,
“
They were Abstainers.
”

“
They
’
re the first I
’
ve ever seen.
”

“
They would have killed us.
”

“
I know. I just wish
—”

“
What?
”

“
I want to understand why.
”

“
Why Abstainers kill?
”

The bitter taste in the back of her mouth had little to do with the deaths she
’
d just witnessed.
“
Why Abstainers exist.
”

“
I wonder if any of us can understand. We are the Children of the Rock,
”
he said, and the low rumble of his voice came close to the somber rhythm of ritual.
“
We make our vows before the gods, to live for one another, to shape or keep or dream according to our natures, to fulfill our duties to the rest of the Children. To forsake our vows is to forsake our deepest, truest selves. Abstainers have chosen to forsake the foundations of life. Once that happens, perhaps they simply can
’
t stand to see anyone else in possession of what they
’
ve abandoned.
”

“
You don
’
t hate them, do you?
”

“
No. I pity them with all my heart.
”

“
But you kill them.
”

He looked around at the corpses, his expression calm.
“
Yes. I do. And have before, and will again.
”

“
Doesn
’
t it bother you? Even a little bit?
”

He placed his warm, callused hand on her shoulder.
“
I don
’
t question the will of the gods. It only wastes my time, and theirs, and doesn
’
t change a thing.
”

Feather held her peace as Sene walked away. He didn
’
t question tradition and law. Fine. Perhaps that worked, for a king. Perhaps it had once worked for her. No longer. She had thought she understood her life, a single thread in the open weave of a simple fabric. Jenil had shattered that illusion. The pattern of Feather
’
s life was more complex than she could ever have guessed, interwoven with people she did not remember and a purpose she had never anticipated. Or so they told her, Sene and Jenil and who knew how many others who would claim to know her better than she knew herself.

They could claim whatever they wished. She would believe them, or not, as she saw fit. From now on, she was going to question everything.

Vray sat on the edge of the porch and tried to massage the kinks out of her aching right hand. The touch of the clean skirt against her legs distracted her briefly. A few days of clean clothes and clean surroundings hadn
’
t been long enough to make cleanliness seem normal. Her healing flea bites no longer itched, and she entertained the thought that eventually even the marks would fade. Eventually. She
’
d have to start thinking in terms of long periods of time again. Forgetting habits she
’
d worked three years to acquire was going to be hard.

The afternoon had turned pleasant. The only reminder of the morning
’
s thunderstorm was a puddle in front of the chicken coop. The carter emerged from the stable, wiping his hands on a cloth, then saw her and began walking toward the porch.
I
’
m too tired,
Vray thought.
He
’
s either got some work for me to do, or he
’
s going to make friendly conversation.
She hoped it was work. She didn
’
t want friends.

“
Done something to your hand?
”
he asked.

Vray became aware that her left hand was still massaging her right.
“
Sewing. I
’
m out of practice.
”

“
You
’
ve been at it all afternoon?
”

“
There
’
s a lot to learn.
”

“
Your fingers will be stiff in the morning if you don
’
t get rid of that tension. I
’
ve an exercise you might try. Very relaxing.
”
Before Vray could think of a way to politely decline, he reached into his trousers
’
pocket and pulled out a smooth gray rock.
“
Here, catch,
”
he said.
“
Now, just toss it gently from one hand to the other. You
’
d better stand up.
”

Vray stood. The rock was a nice size and weight for throwing. She tossed it from her right hand to her left.

“
Good. Now back again. That
’
s right. Now, make it a slow, high arch. That
’
s better. Your arms and shoulders should feel relaxed. Don
’
t watch your hands, just let the rock travel. If the upward toss is accurate, the catching is automatic.
”

He was right. As she fell into the rhythm of tossing the rock back and forth, her right hand began to loosen up.
“
It works.
”
.

“
Good. Don
’
t stop, I
’
ll be right back.
”

Jordy went into the house. Vray made a few more tosses. Relaxing it might be, but it was also boring. Behind her the door opened once more and the carter returned, Matti at his heels. His hands were full of what Vray at first took to be multicolored stones.

“
You
’
ve mastered that,
”
he said.
“
Now try it with two.
”