Greendaughter (Book 6) (12 page)

“How many do you think might come to the city for shelter?” Rivkah asked him.

Valann shrugged.

“It is difficult to say,” he said. “I know only of Wildings, and they will send no one. But Rowan spoke of ripe females and those with child also. They will be able to fight, however, at least with bows.”

“I will gladly test my skill with a sword against any human’s,” Chyrie said hotly.

“It may well come to that,” Valann said somberly. “And if it does, I will thank the Mother Forest for your skill, which is the equal of any I have seen. But you and the lives you carry are the hope of the forest.
You
must be kept safe.”

(If you think I will be coddled in some safe place like a newborn—)
Chyrie thought fiercely.

(Both armies together, elf and human, are not mighty enough to keep my she-fox in a corner,)
Val thought wryly. He reached over and tapped her swelling belly.
(At the same time, I know you will protect these young ones as fiercely as that same she-fox her pups, and to guard them, you must guard the womb that carries them. We will speak of this later.)

(At some length,)
Chyrie replied, although, like Valann, her face was calm; the humans had no place in their quarrel.

Rivkah noticed that they had stopped eating, and frowned a little.

“If you’re done,” she said, “we can go now.”

“Very well.” Val slid off the tabletop, again ignoring Sharl’s irritated glance, and waited. Chyrie followed—but not before she snatched another piece of bread and a chunk of cheese.

“Your lord is as sour as your wine,” Chyrie complained as they walked down several flights of steps. “Both could bear much improvement.”

“Sharl’s very worried,” Rivkah said quietly. “He’s worked so hard to bring these people here, to build this city, and he’s desperate to protect them. Our defenses are less than half finished, most of our people are farmers who know more about handling a hoe than a sword, and the elves who live less than half a league away and control the entire forest are as much enemies as friends. He has reason to be a little bit sour right now.”

“He has thousands of people who have followed him to this place and who honor him, he has wealth and territory, and a woman is bearing his child,” Chyrie said. “Among the elves he would have much reason to celebrate. It is said among elves that ‘He who seeks only thorns on the flower will never smell its sweetness.’ “

“That’s a good saying,” Rivkah said remotely. “I wish you elves wouldn’t seek only the thorns in humans.”

Valann and Chyrie looked surprisedly at Rivkah, then each other, then laughed rather embarrassedly.

“It would seem that we sometimes dispense our wisdom more freely than we follow it.” Chyrie chuckled. “Thank you for reminding me of that.”

“This place is huge,” Val marveled as they descended yet another set of stairs. “And that it has all been built from pieces of stone—”

“The great hall, where you ate this morning, was the first part of the keep to be built,” Rivkah said. “It’s taken five years to build it, and as you saw, it’s not finished yet.”

“Where did you get so much stone?” Chyrie asked curiously.

“From under the city,” Rivkah said. “Most of the buildings in town are going to have wonderful cellars. And tunnels between them. And subcellars. Maybe we’ll attract better vintners.” They all chuckled at that.

“I’ll show you something that should interest you,” Rivkah said, opening one of the doors along the hallway. “It’s something one of our mages discovered when we were cutting deep into the stone.”

An odd smell came from the room, rather like the odor of the bird eggs Chyrie sometimes ate—strong, but not actually offensive. A wave of warm, moist air billowed out the open door.

Interestingly, the only thing in the room was a circular depression set into the floor, and the depression was filled with bubbling water.

Chapter Nine

“There are springs of hot water deep down under the city,” Rivkah said. “The mages sensed it when they probed the ground, and they used magic to bring it to the surface. There are three here in the keep and two more in the city, plus someunder the moat, and Sharl plans dozens more. The bubbles are from something in the water, not boiling heat.”

Chyrie knelt on the edge of the pool and tentatively dabbled her fingers in it.

“It is very warm,” she admitted. “What do you do with these pools?”

“We bathe in them,” Rivkah said. “Except for the one in the kitchen, where we get water for cooking and washing. There are pipes in the side. The water comes up from the bottom, and the old water flows out.”

“You bathe in
hot
water?” Valann asked curiously, also touching the bubbling liquid.

“Indeed we do. It’s very pleasant,” Rivkah told him. “Even before we had these springs, we heated water for bathing. Now we have to cool water in the cellars when we want cold water, and unfortunately there’s this smell. But it’s worth it.”

“I want to try it,” Chyrie exclaimed, starting to draw her tunic over her head.

“Wait, wait,” Rivkah said, laughing. “If you want to try the bathing pool, fine, but why don’t you wait until tonight? If you want to see the rest of the keep and the city, you’ll see more by day.”

Chyrie grudgingly pulled her tunic back down, the more reluctantly because of the image she had caught from Valann of other water sports that might take place in the bubbling pool.

“I’ll show you the keep’s watchtower,” Rivkah said, leading them up several flights of stairs. From the top floor of the keep, they passed through another door into a narrow, cylindrical room containing only a spiral stone staircase that wound up, and up, and up, ending in a platform and a ladder leading through an open trapdoor at the top.

Rivkah mounted the ladder first, a little awkwardly because of the gown, and Valann and Chyrie scampered up quickly after her. At the top of the ladder and through the trapdoor was a stone platform ringed with a short, crenellated wall of stone blocks. Rivkah motioned them to the southeast portion of the wall, and the elves stared, silent with amazement.

Chyrie had seen the city once before from far above, but her view had been limited by the storm. Now all of Allanmere stretched out before them, sparkling in the sunlight with last night’s rain.

They could never have conceived of a village so huge. Inner Heart, which had shocked them with its size, was but a few paltry huts compared to this. And these huts, some large, some small, were all of stone—some thatched, some topped with sloping roofs covered with what appeared to be scales, like a fish. Besides the wall around the city, there was a second wall around the keep, with smaller towers of its own.

“Why are they all of stone?” Valann asked.

“Several reasons,” Rivkah told him. “First, we couldn’t get timber from the forest, because the elves attacked us every time we tried. Second, we had more stonemasons than carpenters. And third, we were sitting on all this good stone; why not use it? Besides, the stone buildings will last much longer and are safer from fire.”

“Why do some of the buildings have scales on top?” Chyrie asked.

“Some people are trying baked-clay tile roofs,” Rivkah said. “They’re sturdier than thatch and seem to last longer. We’ll see. Again, it’s an idea to protect from fire.”

“Those other towers are not as high as this one,” Chyrie said, pointing.

“That one isn’t quite finished yet,” Rivkah said, following her gaze. “When they’re all done, there will be one on each corner of the city, two smaller towers at each gate, two more towers on the south and east walls, and one on the north and west. Sharl plans a system of docks to the west, too, and there’s an opening there now, but I’m sure he’ll simply have it walled up. The fewer gates to have to defend, the better.”

“You are wrong,” Valann told her. “The approaching army is mostly afoot, some on horses. They will not travel by river, and you have left little bank between the wall and the water.

No force of any significance could gather there. It would be simple to make that small area inaccessible from the other land without walling it up. Neither will they wind through the swamp, nor would your people if they had to flee. Had you an
opening onto the river, you could cast nets for fish to feed your people and have an additional source of water, as well as an egress for escape, if necessary.”

Rivkah stared at him.

“That’s very canny,” she said. “I didn’t think you would be so knowledgeable about warfare.”

Valann smiled grimly.

“Wildings have fought off raids from neighboring clans many, many times. None have yet defeated us, and we have won lands from two other clans. Fools do not win battles.”

“I’ll tell Sharl what you suggested,” Rivkah said. “It may cheer him.”

“It seems strange to build your keep in this place,” Val said, sniffing the air. “There must be times when the smell of the swamp is strong, especially after the spring floods.”

“Yes, but this is the safest place, in the corner of the swamp and the river,” Rivkah said. “The keep was the beginning of the city, as I said, and at one time everyone stayed here.”

Chyrie ignored the conversation, staring to the west at the forest looming cool and inviting there. This high openness made her almost as uneasy as the closeness of stone walls around her had, and a pang of homesickness brought tears perilously close.

Val sensed her unhappiness and folded his arms around her from behind, caressing her rounded belly.

“Where is your friend the brighthawk, love?” he asked. “Can you feel him from here?”

Chyrie reached out and touched the brighthawk almost immediately.

“Yes,” she said. “He stayed in the Blue-eyes’ lands, waiting.”

“Why didn’t you bring him?” Rivkah asked.

“You cannot take a wild thing from the forest and make it happy within walls,” Val said absently, and Chyrie knew he longed for the forest as much as she did. “In any wise, your people would likely have shot him from the sky for their supper.”

Chyrie leaned back against Valann and closed her eyes, reaching out to touch the brighthawk more fully. Through the bird’s mind, she reached back to Inner Heart, experimentally, to see if she could in turn touch Dusk.

The Gifted One’s answer was firm and immediate, like the clasp of a warm hand in hers.

(I am pleased to finally meet you in thought,)
Dusk told her,
(and doubly pleased that you left the forest without harm.)

(I cannot say without harm,)
Chyrie thought wryly, telling him what had transpired when they passed through Blue-eyes lands
. (There will be no safe passage there for any. You must send those whom you would shelter here by another road, north or south of Blue-eyes lands.)

(But how could they attempt to harm you?)
Dusk asked, horrified.
(You were wearing plainly the mark of a woman bearing child, and they knew of you already.)

(The humans hid us with magic,)
Chyrie told him.
(The Blue-eyes did not know they were shooting their arrows at Valann and myself. Perhaps if Rowan tells them that they nearly cost us our lives, it may aid her in her negotiations with them.)

(But how do you fare?)
Dusk pressed
. (Are your unborn ones safe?)

(They are safe enough to fair burst my belly when it pleases them,)
Chyrie thought amusedly.
(Still, I wish for a healer of our own people here. Valann trusts no human mages.)

(He is wise, for they know nothing of the ills of our kind,)
Dusk told her
. (A bird can eat berries that will poison a squirrel, and it may be so with human and elf. Without doubt a healer or perhaps even a Gifted One of one of the clans will come to the city to minister to those who shelter there. Until then Valann can tend you well enough. But you must eat much meat, especially the liver and the heart. Your body will guide you.)

(Thank you, Gifted One,)
Chyrie thought. Reaching the brighthawk over such a distance was wearying enough; the unaccustomed task of touching Dusk through the bird made it doubly difficult, and she could feel her hold on the bird slipping
. (I will contact you again soon.)

Valann gently eased her to a seat on one of the low notched-out blocks of the wall, Rivkah hovering worriedly nearby.

“Are you well, love?” he asked.

“It is difficult to touch a mind from such a distance,” Chyrie panted. “And I have never reached through one mind to touch another. But I am glad to find I can do it. At least we will have some contact with the forest.”

“You must not do it often, if it wears upon you so,” Valann fretted.

“Every endeavor is difficult at the first,” Chyrie said when she recovered her breath. “It will become easier with practice. Ooof!” She pressed her hands against her belly. “You both need not kick so. I will do no more now.”

Val touched her belly, his face lighting with joy as he felt the strong movements beneath his hand. He pressed his cheek against the bulge and laughed.

“Little warriors, the both of them,” he exclaimed. “They are kicking my face.”

Chyrie glanced at Rivkah, noting her wistful expression, and laughed, took the woman’s hand, and pressed it to her belly.

“My younglings do not know elf from human,” she said, grinning. “They will kick and strike anyone they can.”

Rivkah laughed, too, but her eyes were very moist, and she turned away quickly, one hand pressed to her mouth.

“How long do humans bear their offspring?” Val asked as they descended the tower.

“Nine moons or a little more,” Rivkah said. “I likely have seven moons left.”

“Dusk said I would bear in six to seven moons,” Chyrie sighed. “But that was in the forest, before Val healed me again. Now I do not know how many moons are left, but I cannot think it will be many. I only wish they had been born before battle comes to your city.”

“So you would be fit to fight?” Rivkah guessed.

“Were my mate but breaths from bearing, she would be fit to fight.” Val laughed. “What fights more fiercely than a mother beast with young?”

“No,” Chyrie said somberly. “So that if I were slain, my children might yet live.”

That sobered everyone, and Rivkah diplomatically diverted the subject to more cheerful territory.

“So I conceived before you,” Rivkah said, “and we bear our children more quickly, but you’ll bear months before I do. Magic’s a strange thing. Soon every woman in the land will be running to the healers, begging them to speed their bearing.”

“I think not,” Valann said. “As Dusk said, it is a dangerous thing to do, avoided except in direst necessity. He would not have so warned us were it not dangerous indeed.”

Rivkah’s brow wrinkled.

“But—” She glanced at Chyrie. “What do you think it’s done to your children?”

“I cannot know until they are born,” Chyrie said serenely. “But they move strongly, and that is a good sign. They are no ordinary children in any wise, being two.” She shook her head. “I can tell you one real danger—had they grown any more quickly, they might well have split my belly wide, and I do not jest when I say it.”

“It might be best if we tell no one else in the city about the effects of such healing, then,” Rivkah mused. “The only humans who truly know are Sharl and myself, and Romuel and—” She stopped abruptly.

“Will there be a death ritual held?” Chyrie asked. “We would wish Doria fair journey.”

Rivkah was silent for a long moment, then spoke hesitantly.

“There’s a—a ceremony tonight,” she said. “It might be best if you don’t attend. Romuel is very upset, and—and others might not feel kindly toward you.”

Valann raised his eyebrows.

“Would Romuel and the others not be comforted by our respect for his mate, our recognition of her courage?” he asked.

“I don’t think he would see it that way,” Rivkah said gently. “Trust me, you would only make him angry.”

“Then we will not go,” Valann said. “We would not add to his pain.”