Moons' Dreaming (Children of the Rock) (41 page)

“
No more than a little organization,
”
Canis grumbled.
“
Now, child, what is it?
”

Iris hesitated, then straightened her shoulders.
“
I
’
ve had some training as a Redmother. I could tell the story for your village.
”
She made a half-furtive gesture toward Jordy.
“
If it
’
s permitted.
”

A sudden smile lit Ivey
’
s face.
“
I thought you looked familiar. You wouldn
’
t know me, lass, but I know of your family. It
’
s more than some training she
’
s had,
”
he explained to Jordy and Canis.
“
It was to be her profession.
”

The girl
’
s skin had gone as red as her hair. Jordy flushed. He
’
d just learned more about his fosterling from the minstrel than Greenmother Jenil or the girl herself had seen fit to tell him. Before he could say anything, Canis handed her empty mug to him and got to her feet.

She wrapped an arm around Iris
’
s thin shoulders.
“
We
’
ll go to Driss
’
s house now. If she has the strength, perhaps she can help you practice. How long has it been since you told the story?
”

Iris mumbled something in answer as Canis led her across the square. Jordy turned his attention to Ivey. Or would have, if the minstrel had not already slipped away to join the crowd of young people setting up targets for the archery competition. Jordy intended to have a talk with the lad
—
but it could wait. They had the whole day ahead of them.

* * *

“
I said I was never going to leave Garden Vale. So where am I? Not in Garden Vale.
”
From her seat on her cushioned stool, Feather glowered at a passing servant, who cringed and quickened his pace. That was one of the things
—
one of the many, many things
—
that annoyed her about the king
’
s household. No one was willing to fight with her. If she glowered at someone they had every right to glower back. The king
’
s daughter was nice to her, the servants were polite, the townspeople smiled constantly. Everyone was being entirely too tolerant of her bad moods.

I know I
’
m being a brat. Anyone from Garden Vale would know I
’
m a brat. Why can
’
t these people accept me as I am and snarl back?

There were lots of things Feather didn
’
t like about Raisal. For one thing, oceans were boring
—
even if she had wanted to see one. The shore smelled of fish. Dead fish. And salt. And gull
droppings. From a distance she
supposed it wasn
’
t too bad. Just a fresh salt tang to the breeze. You needed a breeze on a day like this. Spring Festivals weren
’
t supposed to be this warm. In Garden Vale, they
’
d been happy if they didn
’
t have snow. They would never risk putting the entire feast outdoors.

She looked disdainfully at the field full of open-sided pavilions. The amber- and scarlet-patterned cloth moved with the breeze, brilliant in the morning sunshine. Her cushioned stool was still in the shade, just beneath the awning of the large tent nearest the main building. No doubt a servant would be by to move it, and her, before the sun progressed much further. Since her feet did not quite reach the ground, she was tempted to command the man to move the stool with her on it. He wouldn
’
t want her to risk getting her lovely white dress and soft shoes grass-stained, would he? Of course not.

How can anyone have fun at a Festival if they
’
re not allowed to get dirty?

She wanted to be in Garden Vale. She wanted to eat dried berry soup and let it dribble down her chin. She wanted to win the foot races. She wanted to go wading in the Broad and complain to her friends about how cold it is.

I am pouting. Pout pout pout.

No one knew her here. How could she play games she had never even seen before? What was she going to eat? They put almonds in everything. And lemon juice. That wasn
’
t so bad, maybe. The lemon drink sweetened with honey was good. Feather squirmed restlessly on her stool, picking at the golden tassels on the cream-colored cushion. People were arriving in huge numbers now, streaming up the road out of the town of Raisal to enjoy the feast on the grounds of the King
’
s estate. According to Princess Jeyn, the court and the town had been sharing Festivals for generations. The ruler provided the physical setting and large quantities of various meats, and the townspeople brought the rest.

“
Keep frowning and your face will freeze that way.
”

She looked up at the familiar rumbling voice, tilting her head to see behind herself. King Sene returned her frown with raised eyebrows.
“
It hasn
’
t so far,
”
she informed him.

“
You
’
ve been lucky.
”
He continued to stand behind her. She stubbornly continued to stare up at him, cricking her neck but ignoring the discomfort.
“
Where
’
s Jeyn? I told her to keep an eye on you.
”

“
She was called away.
”

“
You
’
ve been sitting here since breakfast. Why didn
’
t you go with her? You won
’
t enjoy the Festival rooted to one spot all day.
”

“
I don
’
t want to enjoy the Festival. I want to pout.
”

“
Ah. Of course. You
’
re homesick.
”

“
Children get homesick,
”
she announced.
“
I simply prefer Rhenlan customs to yours.
”

“
You don
’
t know our customs. You
’
re homesick.
”

“
I can
’
t be homesick. I don
’
t have a home.
”

“
Nonsense. Now you
’
re being pitiful. It
’
s not very becoming.
”
His hands gripped her shoulders, and she found herself suspended briefly over the stool before he took a step to one side and placed her on her feet.

“
I
’
ll get my shoes dirty.
”
She turned to face him.

“
That
’
s what shoes are for.
”

“
These?
”
she demanded, lifting one foot gracefully.
“
Soft linen like this is too delicate for the outdoors.
”

“
Then why are you wearing them?
”

“
Jeyn picked them out and told me to wear them!
”
she snapped.

He took a step back and looked her over.
“
You do look nice. Pretty dress. Jeyn was just trying to be helpful. She wants you to make a good impression on Chasa.
”

Chasa. She kept hearing about Chasa. This person she supposedly had adored as a child. This person she was betrothed to. This person who hadn
’
t put in an appearance since she got here. She only got here yesterday, but that was no excuse, considering this was his home.
“
When is he going to make an impression on me?
”

“
He should be out any minute. Would you like to come with me to the craft display? I
’
m told that you
’
re an embroidery expert. Perhaps you can help with the judging.
”

Placing one hand on her shoulder, the king steered her out of the shade. She squinted in the bright light, smoothing her skirt as they walked. Away from the relative quiet of the house, the bustle and excitement of the crowd was even more noticeable. Raisal was a big town, to be home to so many people.

Garden Vale was much cozier.

The pavilions had been arranged in a rough horseshoe, with the open end partially closed by the north wall of the house. Singing had already begun on a stage set up near the orchard. A huge oval had been staked out just beyond the west side of the horseshoe, near the stables. That was something she
’
d like to see later. Garden Vale never raced its horses. Farm horses weren
’
t exactly built for speed.

As they approached the craft tent, she noticed someone cutting across the field to intercept them. At first she thought it was the wizard she
’
d met last night. The hair color and length was the same, silver blond brushing his shoulders. But the long bangs drifted in front of his eyes. Aage wore his hair swept back from his high forehead. This man wasn
’
t wearing black robes, either, which she should have noticed first. In fact, he was wearing amber and scarlet. Like Jeyn. And the king. The family colors of the ruling house of Sitrine.

“
Uh oh,
”
she muttered.

Sene smiled down at her, then raised a hand in greeting.
“
Chasa!
”

The prince quickened his pace. He was built like the king, if a bit more slender. The relation between father and son was apparent in several subtle details
—
the eyes, the dimpled smile, the way each man moved. But there were differences, too. Sene
’
s warm eyes were surrounded by tiny laugh lines which were emphasized whenever he smiled, and he smiled often. He carried himself with complete self-assurance, a jovial bounce to his stride that was not quite a swagger. Reluctantly, Feather turned her attention to Chasa. The boy stopped in front of her, looking oddly surprised.

“
It
’
s Filanora,
”
the king said in introduction.

As usual, she winced at the sound of her name. Chasa broke into a huge grin.
“
Feather!
”

That was better. But spoken in his voice, the word produced a shudder. She pulled back slightly, scowling.
“
Your Highness,
”
she responded coolly.

His smile faded. The king stepped into the conversation with a cheerful,
“
Hasn
’
t grown much, has she?
”

“
Only more beautiful,
”
the prince offered.

She had no intention of listening to any more of that. Not in that uncomfortably familiar, unfamiliar voice.
“
Your father wants me to look at some embroidery. Excuse me, please.
”

She escaped into the tent.

* * *

As
midday
approached, the entire village began to gather in the square. Tob looked for his parents. Jordy was easy to find, walking here and there around the square and collecting small children who had grown tired and restless with the long morning
’
s wait. When he had gathered a sizable group, he led them to an unoccupied patch of ground in front of the inn. They surrounded him, smiles replacing their expressions of tedium as he began to juggle a variety of odds and ends he pulled out of his pockets. Pepper and Matti were right there in front, as though they couldn
’
t enjoy their father
’
s skill every day. Tob almost regretted being too old for that circle of children. Jordy said something and the group squealed with laughter. Nearby adults turned their heads and smiled.

The last few fisher folk hurried up the road from the river, and Herri came out of the inn. As the sun reached its highest point in the pale blue sky, Canis shooed the innkeeper onto the platform in the center of the square. Jordy dispersed his flushed and cheerful audience to find their parents. The villagers settled down on cloaks and blankets spread on the damp earth, rustling and murmuring like a great flock of birds.