Swords Over Fireshore (42 page)

 

N
ear midnight the forest began to change, oaks giving way to the occasional darkwood. Eliani felt unease at passing near their twisted trunks, at the way they seemed to close in on her. She and the others fell silent as they pushed their way through the thickening undergrowth, their mood further daunted by a drizzle of rain.

At last they reached the road and were able to quicken their pace. Striding westward toward Bitterfield, they made good progress and were soon within sight of the town.

“Halt!”

Eliani obeyed, startled at finding watchers posted on the road. There had been none when they had first come here, but that was before Ghlanhras had fallen.

Vanorin stepped in front of her. The voice came again from the forest ahead.

“Who are you, and what is your business?”

“I am Eliani of Felisanin, and these are my companions. I was here some few days since. Theyn Dejhonan will remember me.”

“I remember you. Your pardon, Lady Eliani.”

The watcher stepped from the forest, lowered bow in hand, and pushed back his hood. He was one of the villagers Eliani had met on her earlier visit, a tall male with Greenglen coloring, though his eyes were a lighter shade of brown. He bowed.

“We are required to stop everyone, even friends.”

“I understand.”

“You are here to see the theyn?”

“Yes, and to see Davhri, my kin.”

“Walk on, then.”

Eliani thanked the watcher, who pulled up his hood again and returned to his post in the forest. She hastened forward, anxious to get into the village and find shelter for Luruthin before the sun rose.

She was struck again at the guarded appearance of the village, by the windowless back walls of the outer row of houses, the hearthroom doors that stood merely ajar where in Highstone they would have stood wide. This deep into night the hearths were mostly down to coals, but now and again she saw one where a fire burned brightly.

“I do not wish to disturb Dejhonan's rest. Let us go to Davhri's house. We can sit in the hearthroom if she is not receiving company.”

She led the way along the path between the outer two rows of houses, searching for the withered goldenberry bush that struggled to grow in Davhri's garden. She spied it and wondered for a moment if it was dead, for the stalks were altogether bare of leaves now.

It was winter, though, she reminded herself. Goldenberry dropped its leaves in winter, apparently even in this snowless land. As she stepped into the yard and looked more closely at the bush, she saw that its branches were green and bore the first tiny buds of new growth.

The garden had been cleared, she noticed. The kiln, which on Eliani's previous visit had looked neglected, had been set to order. All the weeds and overgrowth were gone, and a small kitchen garden showed freshly-turned earth. A rosemary bush that had been a wild tangle was now neatly trimmed.

Eliani smiled, her heart lifted by these signs of change. Perhaps it had been done by Mishri, the theyn's daughter, who helped Davhri about the house. Even if so, a more cheerful garden must be good for Davhri.

The door of the house stood ajar, and the hearth was deep in ashes where before it had been bare. Davhri was receiving again, then. Eliani held her hand out toward the hearth and felt the warmth of a fire only recently faded.

The entrance into the house from the hearthroom was curtained, and Eliani saw no light at its edges, so she gestured to the others to sit. It was pleasant to be out of the rain. She added wood to the fire and coaxed it to flame. The three of them crowded around it, stretching chilled hands toward it.

A noise from within the house drew Eliani's attention. Footsteps hastened toward them. The heavy curtain was pulled aside, and Davhri looked out at them.

“I thought I heard voices! Why did you not ring the chime?”

Eliani rose, smiling as she saw how well Davhri looked. Her eyes were clear and bright, her hair and clothing neat, her movements quick and full of the strength Eliani remembered from long ago.

“We thought you might be resting.”

“And so I was, but that is no reason for you to sit out here. Come in, come in!”

Davhri beckoned them into the house, and they followed her. Eliani marveled at the change in the place. Where before it had seemed empty and lifeless, now it was full of color and the pleasant clutter of Davhri's craft.

Finished pieces of pottery, and some that were yet to be glazed, stood along the shelves. The large table was covered with jars and pots of glazes and colored earth, and a wheel on which stood something draped with a heavy, dampened cloth.

“You have taken up your craft again! I am glad.”

“I was given to understand that my lord is in need of better cups.”

Eliani met her gaze and saw a glint of humor there, though it was replaced by earnestness in the next moment. Davhri stepped toward her.

“Thank you for finding him.”

Eliani smiled, and on impulse threw her arms around Davhri, who returned the embrace with quick fierceness before stepping back and turning to the others.

“Luruthin. Welcome again.”

She held out her arm and Luruthin clasped it. Davhri froze for a moment, gazing at him.

“You must be tired. Will you not rest here, and give me a chance to make up for my inability to host you before? My guest room is ready, and there are beds for two. Eliani may share with me.”

She glanced at Vanorin, who stepped forward. “We did not meet when I was here before. I am Vanorin.”

Eliani winced. “Forgive me. Davhri, Vanorin is captain of my escort. Vanorin, please meet Davhri, my father's sister.”

Davhri smiled and clasped his arm briefly. “Welcome. Come sit by the fire. You must all be chilled, walking in this rain.”

Luruthin and Vanorin readily accepted this hospitality. The fire on the main room's hearth had fallen to coals, and Vanorin set about at once to build it up. Eliani followed Davhri to the kitchen, where Davhri put her to work slicing bread. Eliani's stomach rumbled as she set the knife to it, and she was hard put not to gobble a piece right away. Instead she swept up the crumbs and let them melt on her tongue while she watched Davhri come and go with kettle and ewer, cups and plates.

Davhri took down a small, bright yellow pot and uncovered it, releasing the sharp scent of sunfruit. She set it on the plate with the bread and a smooth knife.

“Take that out, now, and share it with your friend. The tea will soon be ready.”

Eliani carried the plate out to the main room, wondering why she had said “friend” and not “friends.” Vanorin had the fire crackling brightly, and Davhri's kettle was hanging over it, beginning to steam. The captain had unbound his damp hair and was absently combing through it with his fingers.

He looked up at Eliani, his eyes lighting at the sight of the bread. Eliani pulled another chair over to the hearth, set the plate of bread down on it, then spread sunfruit preserve on a slice and handed it to Vanorin.

“Thank you. Mmm.”

She offered another slice to Luruthin. He shook his head.

“Some without preserve?”

“No, thank you.”

Eliani saw a swallow move his throat. She felt badly, eating when he could not, but she knew he would say that was foolish. She pulled up a chair for herself and took a bite of the bread, the taste of sunfruit bursting sharp and sweet in her mouth, bits of the tangy golden peel threaded through the preserve.

Davhri came and fetched the kettle, set a plate of sliced cheese beside the bread, then hurried back to the kitchen. In a few moments she returned with a tray bearing cups, the grey ewer, and a smaller ewer of dark blue.

Davhri picked up the blue ewer and uncovered it, holding it out for Luruthin to smell. “This is winterbalm and honeyleaf. My lord finds it soothing. Would you like to try some?”

Luruthin looked up at her sharply, then glanced at Eliani. Everyone was still for a moment.

Eliani drew a sharp breath. “You can feel it.”

Davhri glanced at her. “Yes. Only because I have lately seen Inóran. I doubt I would have noticed, otherwise.”

Luruthin gave Eliani a questioning glance. She had not told him that she could feel his affliction, for she had not wished to distress him. He turned a wary gaze on Davhri, then nodded.

“I will have some. Thank you.”

Davhri poured the tea for them all. “Forgive me, I should have offered you dry clothing right away. Let me fetch some.”

Eliani looked up from her tea. “Please do not trouble—”

“No trouble. I have plenty to spare. Inóran has little use for robes now.” She gave a small, sad smile, then hastened away into the back of the house.

Luruthin drained his cup. “Is there more of this?”

“I think so.” Eliani lifted the lid of the blue ewer. Yes.”

She poured for him, watching his face. He took a sip and glanced up at her.

“I did not know you could feel my....”

“Your khi is different. Altered.” She glanced at Vanorin. “Had you noticed?”

He nodded. “I was not certain why, at first.”

“Nor I, or I would have mentioned it. I am sorry, Cousin.”

A smile flashed across Luruthin's face and was gone again. He leaned forward with the cup in his hands, elbows on his knees, rocking slightly.

“I suppose it does not matter. It is a small thing, compared to all the rest.”

Eliani's heart ached for him. She wanted to rage at the ældar for allowing him to be hurt so, at the spirits for failing to protect him. She tried to reconcile herself to the tortured path he walked.

Not by choice. How could it be by choice? Supposedly each soul chose its path, but why would anyone choose such suffering?

Davhri returned with two robes over her arm and two pairs of soft house shoes in her hands. “These should fit you well enough, I think.”

She handed a pair of shoes to Vanorin and set another beside Luruthin's chair, then shook out the robes. Both were grey and heavy, one a little darker than the other, and smelled faintly of whiteflower. She gave them to Luruthin and Vanorin, then turned to Eliani.

“Come, you may have your pick of my robes. Remember when you used to come and play in my wardrobe?”

Eliani grinned. “I remember the time you shut me in.”

“Foolish of me. I hoped it would discourage you.”

“Instead I thought it a great game, and tried to kick my way out.”

“Much to the detriment of my furniture.”

Davhri caught Eliani's arm and pulled her away, leaving the males to change their wet leathers and clothes for the warm robes. Eliani glanced at the door to the hearthroom as they passed. A single handfasting ribbon hung there, where before she had seen two.

“Only one ribbon at your door.”

“Inóran has mine. He took it with him.”

“He was here?”

Davhri closed the bedchamber door and went to a darkwood wardrobe, throwing its doors wide. “Very briefly, a few nights ago. He came near midnight and left before dawn. He had asked if he might bring me to visit the camp, but was forbidden.”

“Oh, Davhri. I am sorry.”

Davhri turned a smiling face toward her. “No matter. I saw him. It was enough. To know that he is alive, that he is ... well, as far as he can be. It is such a relief, after all my fears.”

“But to be kept apart from him must be dreadful.”

Davhri gazed at her, one brow rising slightly in a way that reminded Eliani very much of her father. “I imagine you know how dreadful it is.”

Eliani felt warmth rising to her cheeks. “But we have the hope of being together again.”

“So have we, child. We have not given it up.” Davhri pulled a robe of palest orange from the wardrobe, its color so light it seemed almost white, like the blossoms of a fruit tree. The sleeves were lined with a brighter flame, and the same color touched the collar.

“I think this might suit you. Let me help you out of those leathers.”

“Thank you. Is Othanin still in Bitterfield?”

“Yes. He is staying in a guest house on the public circle. The one with firevines over the door.”

“I will visit him in the morning.”

Davhri gathered up the robe and held it for Eliani, who raised her arms to the sleeves. The robe slid down over her, clinging warmly to her limbs, wonderfully soft. She sighed.

“Ah, much better. Thank you.”

Davhri smiled and handed her a pair of soft shoes. “It looks well on you. I have never been very fond of orange, but it does wear well on a Stonereach. When I first put on Sunriding's colors to please Inóran, I received many compliments.”

Eliani paused in putting on the shoes to look up. “You left your clan for him, and now you must dwell apart.”

Davhri smiled sadly. “I asked to be allowed to come and live with them, but they refused me. I even offered to swear my allegiance, but no. I am not one of them, therefore I am forbidden to join them.”

“Oh, Davhri!”

Davhri picked up Eliani's tunic and reached for her discarded legs. “It is not so hard. It is true that I could not ply my craft if I dwelt with the Lost. I can ply it for their benefit, now. I am making them some things in their new clan colors.”

“Inóran told you of that?”

Davhri nodded. “They are all very hopeful about it.”

“It is by no means certain of acceptance.” Eliani wriggled her feet into the warm shoes.

“I know. They know it, too, but they have decided to act as a clan whether or not they are accepted by the Council. Ebonwatch sounds better than Lost, does it not? I think it was a good suggestion, Eliani. Your father will be proud of you.”

Discomfited by this praise, Eliani began to collect her leathers. Davhri picked up the two bracers and handed them to her.

“These are very handsome, by the way. Fine work.”

“Thank you. They are borrowed, actually. Mine were left in Ghlanhras.”