Treva's Children (5 page)

Embron shook his head. “You’ll never do it.” He set down his pack. “But
we
might.”

“Embron, no.” Talisa shook her head. “She set this task for me.”

“Your task is my task,” Embron said.

“You forget.” Talisa put a hand on Embron’s shoulder. “I am not your Baroness any longer.  I am merely Mistress’s servant.”

“As I am ever yours.” Embron dropped to his knees and bowed his head. “Please, Milady.  Let me help.”

Despite herself, Talisa smiled.  She reached down and touched his cheek.  He tilted his face up to her.

“Please, Milady.”

“Ever my loyal huntsman.  I cannot compel you.”

A slight smile played at Embron's lips. “Nor can you compel me to leave.”

Talisa nodded. “So it would seem.”

Shadow hung across the ravine as Talisa placed the last rock on her low wall.  Waist high.  She leaned against the wall, gasping for breath.  She felt Embron's hand on her arm, supporting her, as she stood.

“We have done it, Milady,” Embron said.

Talisa nodded. “You had better return to the others before...”

“Before what?” The voice came from the top of the ravine.

Talisa looked up.  Mistress stood on the lip of the ravine, leaning on her staff and looking down at them.  Talisa could not see Mistress’s expression in the shadows but she knew it was hard.  Mistress’s expression was always hard.

“The wall is completed, Mistress,” Talisa said. “Waist high, as you commanded.”

“I gave this task to you,” Mistress said. “I did not say to enlist the aid of others.” Mistress’s staff glowed blue, the light reflecting from her eyes, eyes that bored unblinking into Talisa's.

“Mistress, I...”

Embron drew himself up straight. “She did not enlist my aid, Mistress, she...”

“I am not your mistress.”

Embron opened his mouth, then closed it.  He licked his lips. “Forgive my impertinence then.  I do not know how to address you.”

“I am the guardian of this place.  You may call me Guardian.”

Talisa frowned in thought.  She did not know the significance of the names Mistress used, why this name here and that name there, but she knew it was important.

Embron nodded. “My Lady did not enlist my aid, Guardian.  I came upon her by chance as I wandered these woods.”

“Hunting?  Without leave?”

“No.  I swear it.  Merely seeing.”

Mistress nodded. “Very well.  Continue your tale.”

Embron licked his lips again. “I came upon My Lady by chance and saw her labors.  I begged her to let me help.” He dropped to one knee. “If there is any fault here, it is mine.  Let any punishment be mine as well.”

“Embron!” Talisa turned to him. “No.”

Mistress stared down at them for several seconds. “Is it your intent to continue to aid her in her labors?”

“She is my lady.”

Mistress pointed her staff at Talisa. “She is no longer Baroness.  She is no more than a servant now.”

“She is my lady.”

“Very well,” Mistress said. “If that is your choice, I will adjust her tasks.  You may aid as you see fit.  But the tasks are hers.  The price for failure, hers.”

Embron lifted his face, his expression belligerent.

Talisa hastened to speak. “I will do as you bid, Mistress.  Let the price for failure be mine.”

Mistress nodded.  She pointed at Embron. “Return to your people.  If you choose, return to this place midday tomorrow.” She next pointed at Talisa. “Come with me.”

Talisa bowed and plodded up the hill.

By the glow of her staff, Mistress led Talisa to a willow. She pointed to one of the branches. "Break this off."

Talisa pulled at the limb but it bent rather than breaking.  She laid her right hand on the handle of the knife at her belt. "Mistress, may I..."

Mistress nodded.  She touched the limb, where it joined a larger branch. "Cut here, in this direction."

Talisa cut as indicated.  The knife bit into the wood, but not clean through.  Two more slices and the branch came free.

Mistress looked at the branch. "That should be enough.  As we walk, strip off some of the bark.  Chew on it."

Talisa used her knife to shave off some of the bark which she popped in her mouth.  She grimaced at the taste.

"Endure the bitterness," Mistress said. "When the taste fades, spit the bark out and chew a fresh piece.  Continue until you have stripped the branch entirely.  The bark will ease the pain you will feel tomorrow.  Now, walk with me."

They walked.  Talisa continued to chew the bark.  At a fallen tree, Mistress stopped and stooped.  She held a hand flat on the ground.  A squirrel ran out from under the tree onto her hand.  Mistress stood and held the squirrel before her face, nose to nose, almost as if they were conferring.  A moment later, she bent and lowered her hand.  The squirrel scampered into the underbrush.

In time they reached the path by which Talisa and her people had entered the valley.

"The garden ends here," Mistress said. "I go no farther.  Climb to the saddle and look, then return here."

Talisa looked up into the darkness, then up at the sky.  Clouds blocked the stars, so thick that she could not tell if either moon was in the sky.  Outside the circle cast by Mistress's staff all was black. "Mistress?"

Mistress nodded. "Hold out your hand."

Talisa did so.  Mistress tapped the end of her staff to Talisa's palm, leaving a ball of light in its wake.

"Now go."

Talisa ascended the slope.  As she left Mistress's side, wind started to pluck at her cloak, growing in strength as she journeyed higher.  Cold returned, a cold she had forgotten in the warmth of the valley.

She paused for a moment and looked back at the blue glow surrounding Mistress.  If she would come no farther, then Talisa could leave.  Simply keep walking past the entrance to the valley and not come back.  She shook her head.  It was a foolish fancy.  Not only would she be foresworn, what of her people?  If she fled, what vengeance would Mistress wreak on the few who remained of those who had looked to Talisa for protection?  Would she fail them?  Could she?  If Talisa's service was the price of their safety, could she withhold it?

Of course not.

At the saddle between two peaks, the entrance to the valley, she saw a fierce storm beyond.  If Mistress forced her people out into that, they would never survive.  The storm, seen by the light in her hand, revealed even more that her fancy of leaving was no more than illusion.

She watched the storm for a moment, shivering, before the cold drove her to turn and stumble back down the slope where Mistress awaited her.

"You have seen?" Mistress asked.

"A fierce storm," Talisa said. "Cold, wind, snow."

"Winter marches on outside Treva's garden," Mistress said. "Here, all is gentle, an early summer that never ends.  Springs and sufficient rain for the plants.  Animals eat plants.  Other animals eat those that eat plants so that they do not grow too numerous.  All is in balance. Times of flowering, and of birthing, are their own, not tied to the outer seasons.  Do you understand this?"

"No, Mistress."

Mistress nodded. "You will.  For now, your shelter is that way." She pointed with her staff. "Return to it and rest."

That night, Talisa dreamed that she was a dog.  She whined, hungry.  The human pack leader was gone.  The humans had food.  Her mouth watered at the smell of fish, but no one gave her any.  As the last of the humans drifted off to sleep, she crouched low and slunk toward the fire.  The smell drew her.  A stick.  It smelled of fish.  She licked at it, then took it between her teeth and drew it back.

She gnawed on the stick.  It smelled and tasted of fish and felt good between her teeth but it did not fill her belly.

The wind shifted.  She lifted her muzzle and sniffed.

Food.

She crept out of the circle of humans, following the scent.  Slowly, silently, she crept.  There.  In the shadows, she spotted it.  A ground squirrel, nibbling on something.

A quick dash and she sprang.  Her teeth closed on the squirrel's body.  It had time to squeal once before her teeth tore into its flesh.  Hot blood filled her mouth.

Holding the squirrel carcass in her mouth she trotted into the underbrush.  She found a hollow under a bush and lay within it.  She pinned the body under her forepaws and rent at its fur with her teeth.  Soon she tore succulent flesh.

The squirrel devoured, she laid her head on her paws and rested.  Still hungry, although her belly did not hurt so.  She sniffed.  Perhaps there was other food to find.

And so Talisa's new life continued.  Each morning, Mistress sent her to the camp to give instruction to her people.  Afterward, Mistress instructed her on plants and animals. In the afternoon she labored.  Clay for the dam, so that it would hold water.  Bending the branches of a tree, without harming it, so that sunlight would reach a particular sapling.  Moving forest litter from this patch of ground to that.

Ever at her side in her labors, Embron, the huntsman.  And always the dreams.  Each night something different, this night an owl, a rat for its meal; that night a mouse, barely avoiding an owl's talons.  Another time a deer, struck down by an arrow.  How strange to greet Embron the next morning, and accept a spit of venison for her breakfast.

Outside the valley, the seasons progressed.  Winter gave way to spring, to summer.