Quatrain (30 page)

Lunch at Rowena’s house was more like an outdoor picnic. We sat on logs and boulders in the open air while tree branches seemed to shake down alternating particles of sun and shadow. The food was wholly unfamiliar—slices of something that might have been bread, except it tasted like ground nuts; some kind of rough paste that was sweet as straight honey; chopped fruits that were foreign and utterly delicious. We ate off of plates made of wood and implements carved from bone. There was not a scrap of metal in the whole kingdom, from what I could tell, except for the tiny steel hooks on my trousers and the gold lying flat against my flesh.

People came and went while we ate. I couldn’t tell if they were friends or servants; I couldn’t tell if they were visiting or performing chores. Most of them paused to stare at me and exchange observations with Rowena, but they spoke in that musical, clicking speech that I could not understand.

“But I just realized!” I exclaimed as our meal came to a close. “If I can’t speak their language and they can’t speak mine, I won’t be able to talk to anyone in Alora except the two of you!”

“There are fifty or so aliora who know human speech,” Rowena said. “You may meet some of them while you’re here.”

“Why did they bother to learn my language?” I asked.

I saw Rowena and Jaxon trade glances. He looked away, but she answered. “Because they lived for a time in the world of men.”

Now I understood. “Oh!” I said. “When they were—when they were slaves.”

“A long time ago,” Rowena said. “There have been no hunters tracking down aliora since well before you were born.”

I pulled myself up into my most majestic pose. “On behalf of all humans, I apologize for those shameless depredations.”

Rowena reached over and, careful not to touch my bracelets, brushed her fingertips across the back of my hand. Again, I felt as if dew or nectar had dropped upon my skin. “Your apology is accepted. Let us hope there will forever be harmony between our races.”

Jaxon was on his feet. “There’s so much more to show her,” he said. “Let me give her a tour of Alora.”

We spent the rest of the day exploring, although I by no means saw the whole of the kingdom. Truth to tell, I never got an exact sense of its size and limits, its population, its industries. All that really became clear was that this place where I had come to rest—the village of sorts that had grown up around Rowena’s house—was as close to a capital city as the kingdom claimed. I had the impression that Alora itself unrolled for miles through the forest, along tracks even more overgrown than the one we had followed from the border. I would not have been surprised to learn that the aliora who made their homes deep within the woods existed almost like wild animals, burrowing underground or digging into broad tree trunks, clothing themselves, if they dressed at all, in trousers made of bark and skirts made of braided grasses. Rowena and the aliora who lived near her had adopted some of the conventions and mannerisms of men—perhaps because these trappings appealed to them and perhaps because they had needed some measure of sophistication to understand how to combat the hunters who came calling. But most of the aliora, or so I surmised, were so shy and untamed that Rowena’s little village would be as alien to them as it was to me—though for different reasons.

“But I don’t understand what the aliora
do
all day,” I said to Jaxon once we had completed the tour. There had been no shops, no restaurants, no blacksmithing forges, no weavers or millers or soldiers. None of the common occupations I would have considered essential for civilization.

He found this amusing. “And what do
you
do all day, might I ask? You’re not spinning wool or baking bread, either.”

I lifted my chin. “I’m a princess, learning to be a queen,” I said.

“You dress, you talk, you eat, perhaps you sew,” he said, counting off the activities on his fingers. “You flirt, you dance. Aliora do all those things.”

“But—” Explaining trade and interconnected commerce was hardly one of my skills, but I felt certain something crucial was missing. “People must be productive in
some
fashion. I mean, someone has to grow the food. And make the clothes. And build the houses. Or they would go around naked and hungry with no place to sleep.”

“The necessary work gets done,” he said. “But so little is necessary. Aliora, unlike humans, are content to exist. They are peaceful and serene, restful and joyous. There is none of that drive to compete, to dominate, to achieve, to improve. Merely, they are. It can be a blissful way of life.”

“It sounds boring,” I muttered.

“I’ll wager you change your mind within a week,” he said. “Perhaps within a day.”

I had not changed my mind by the end of that day. All the walking—combined with the excitement of finding Alora to begin with, combined with the sleeplessness that had marked my previous night—made me tired. I yawned through an early dinner with Rowena and Jaxon, then sought my room.

The moss-covered bed was sinfully comfortable, and I snuggled into the soft pillows with a sigh of sheer contentment. One wall of my bedroom was completely open to the elements, except for the loose weave of thin branches that formed a green-and-brown grillwork. I could smell summer drifting in; I could taste starlight. The light breeze was scented with mysterious perfumes.

Before I closed my eyes, the last thing I did was pull out one of the vials my mother had given me. Uncorking it, I took a sniff. Just as she had said, cinnamon and clove, and perhaps a touch of orange peel. I tilted the bottle back and downed the concoction in one swallow. It was sweeter than I had thought it would be, so good I almost opened a second bottle just to recapture the taste on my tongue. For a moment, my memory conjured up detailed images of my mother, my father, my brother. I had one sharp, swift impression of the silhouette of Castle Auburn as viewed from the courtyard right at sunset. I remembered my maid’s south-country accent, the sleek feel of my horse’s withers beneath my hand, the smell of a wax candle in the instant the flame had been snuffed out.

I thought of Orlain and the look on his face when he carried me out of the river.

I closed my eyes and fell asleep before the moon had even risen. Otherwise, I’m sure I would have seen it peeking into my room through those half-formed walls.

I
n the morning, I bathed myself in water that was scarcely more civilized than a woodland pool, and barely more sheltered, either. Rowena assured me that I would have complete privacy if I wanted it—which I did—but nonetheless, I washed and dressed as quickly as I could just in case any aliora stumbled through the circular hedge that was meant to shelter me from the sight of strangers. I was not sure how well I would like such an arrangement in the dead of winter; I was far from sure I liked it even in summer.

I put on a dress Rowena had given me, since my own wardrobe was limited. Green and sleeveless, it might have been stitched together from broadleaves and gossamer; it felt airy and peculiar against my skin, particularly where the hem swirled about my ankles. But I liked it. I felt like I was clothed in the forest itself.

Breakfast consisted of more foods I couldn’t identify, except for an exceptionally sweet red fruit called dayig. “I
love
this,” I exclaimed, helping myself to more than my fair portion. “This is my mother’s favorite fruit, though it is rare to get it at the castle. We spent a week at Faelyn Market once, and I ate it every day.”

Jaxon chuckled. “Well, you asked yesterday how aliora spend their time. A few of them harvest dayig and sell it to farmers who live near the forest. Not for money, of course—the aliora have no need for coins. But sometimes they trade for products they cannot make themselves.”

“Just let me know what kinds of products those might be,” I said, cutting up my third piece of fruit. I was careful to pry out all the white seeds inside, for they’re a very mild poison that will make you throw up if you eat enough of them. “I’ll come back to the forest myself and make some of those trades.”

“We hope you will come back to the forest anyway, whether or not you have something to barter,” Rowena said in her musical voice. “We would love to have you visit often.”

“What shall we do today?” I asked Jaxon, a hint of challenge in my voice. He had practically told me that I would fall under Alora’s spell so quickly that I would be content to lounge around under the interlaced branches, moonstruck and misty-eyed. But back at the castle, I was used to keeping busy. I didn’t think I had it in me to merely sit and dream.

“Do you like to sew?” Rowena inquired. “Cressida and some of her girls have finished dyeing a new lot of cloth and they’re about to start making dresses. Would you like to sew one of your own?”

I was an adequate seamstress, though usually too restless to sit still long enough to set a dainty stitch. But I was intrigued by the idea of working with that delicate, cobwebby Aloran cloth and making something I could bring back home with me.

“Oh, may I? I would love that! Who’s Cressida?” I exclaimed in quick succession.

Rowena smiled at my enthusiasm. “An aliora who was fond of your mother,” she said. “I think she is curious to get to know you.”

That’s never good—to meet someone who knew your mother—because how can you ever compare to a memory? You won’t look as pretty or be as charming or offer such witty and insightful comments. I sighed, and Jaxon laughed.

“Yes, you’ve quite a legacy to live up to,” he said. “Your mother
and
your aunt. Both quite remarkable, each in her own way.” He stood up and held his hand out to me. “Come along. I think you’ll like Cressida.”

I did, of course. Cressida was tall and thin, even by aliora standards, and even more ethereal looking. Her hair was short and untended, and her face, while tranquil, showed evidence of suffering. I wasn’t sure how to explain it. She was the first aliora I’d met whom I would describe as familiar with the concept of sadness.

“Princess,” she greeted me, coming forward with her hands outstretched. The smile routed the sadness, or mostly.

“Watch out for her gold,” Jaxon said sharply, but Cressida didn’t pause. She merely showed care as she placed her palms against my cheeks and bent down to kiss the top of my head.

I felt a moment’s blissful serenity. I was whole and cleansed, at peace, home from long wanderings.

She pulled away and for an instant I was as bereft as an orphaned infant.

“Princess,” she repeated, smiling down at me while I tried to adjust my thinking.
You have no idea how seductive the aliora are,
my mother had said. I was beginning to get an inkling. “How delightful to welcome you to Alora.”

“How delightful to be here,” I managed. I was still feeling as if she had abandoned me merely by dropping her hands.

“Zara has expressed an interest in being productive while we harbor her in Alora,” Jaxon said. “Rowena offered you as a diversion. Can you accommodate another worker?”