“There’s more than you think. Our Jessex seems to be winning the local battle.”
I was nearly buried in the Sister-cloak; I suppose he thought me a pile of fabric till I stirred. “At least someone appreciates me.”
“Jessex! Good lord, I thought you were Brun fallen asleep by the fire.”
“There are worse people to be mistaken for.”
“So, what happened on the height?”
Imral sat by Kirith Kirin and poured himself wine from the skin. The question sent me above, to the wind on the flagstone and the crying of voices from far away. Kirith Kirin answered for me. “Drudaen has declared himself openly, or at least that’s how it looks. Jessex turned back shadow from the north but not from the south.”
Silence fell. The exuberance drained from Imral’s face. “Do we know what’s happening under it?”
“I’m listening, trying to learn,” I said. “But he’s been preparing for this a long time, ever since he got hints from the Sisters that he might be opposed. It will take me some time to see through his veils.”
Imral looked upward at the light from the Tower. It colored his face silver-white. “When I was in Erennor I saw the light on the summit and thought you were still there.”
“I am still there,” I said, and Kirith Kirin laughed.
They asked more questions and I told the story of my hours on the High Place. Their understanding of magic, of my work, was more complete than I would ever have guessed. Kirith Kirin asked me what I meant when I remarked that Drudaen knew he might be opposed and I told the story of the day in Hyvurgren Field when the Sisters caught me up in the storm and took me to their house in the encircling mountains. We had not had much time for tale-telling and talking was a relief. For so long I had locked up these secrets in my head.
The evening grew long and still the touring party did not return. I lay by the fire listening to the night. On the High Place birds were crying, shadows of wings wheeling. Kirith Kirin’s hand cupped my brow, fingers drifting in my hair. Again I was in both places, glad of the hand and listening upward to the echoing cries, knowing the birds were friends of my enemy. Murmuring Words, I searched for the shadowed wings. Even with my eyes closed I could detect the change of light above, and laughed. Imral and Kirith Kirin had been talking; they paused and Kirith Kirin asked, “What’s so funny, boy?”
“We’re being watched. He’s sent spies over Ellebren.”
“Spies?”
“Birds. I can’t tell what kind.”
His fingers moved in my hair. “Do you need to go up there again?”
“No.”
“I thought he couldn’t see over Arthen,” Imral said. “That’s what the lore would have one believe.”
“The veil doesn’t extend over Ellebren. It can’t. But mine does now.”
My song was rising from Ellesotur. The light wheeled and danced. The birds’ eyes dimmed and their cries changed, became audible shrieks. No harm came to them but without vision they could not guide their flight. Wind carried them far away from the Tower before I let them go.
My song continued till my veil extended over Ellebren, the House, all the land surrounding the three hills, Lake Thyathe. Kirith Kirin’s hand continued to rest on my forehead. Imral was singing softly under his breath. Drowsiness was sweeping through the parts of me that were not concerned with vigilance over the Tower. This was also a new sensation. Heedless of voices, wanting only the hand.
8
I dreamed I was walking on air while Commyna held my hand and sang a song. She was trying to teach me how to pull down the stars from the sky but for some reason I could not get the trick, the stars kept dripping through my fingers, and each time I looked up, the stars had changed. Kirith Kirin was there wearing full battle gear, breastplate and greaves, leather war-thongs in his hair. He understood everything Commyna was saying in spite of the fact that she was speaking in Wyyvisar, and when he stretched up his hand planets descended into his fingers and fell glittering like a crown around his head.
When I woke he was lifting me from the flagstones, the embers of fire reflected from the kirin-ring on his hand, and Imral was saying, “I wish you would think better of this.”
“The boy belongs with me,” Kirith Kirin said, but there was no conviction in his voice.
“No one is arguing about that,” Imral answered. “But for you to be seen taking him to your bed now, without any ceremony —”
“I think this is a bunch of rot,” said another voice, Karsten’s.
I felt the warmth of Kirith Kirin’s nearness, touching the curve of his chest with my fingertips. He had lifted me easily as if my weight were nothing. I felt the same magnetism between us as when we had lain beneath the portal-arches at the base of Ellebren and remembered what I had told him. “What kind of ceremony do you want, Imral?”
“I thought you were asleep,” Kirith Kirin murmured.
He set me on my feet. The cloak had fallen off my shoulder, as had my tunic; the night air was cool on my bare flesh. We were alone by the fire, the four of us. “Where’s Mordwen?” I asked.
“Gone to bed,” Karsten said, patting down a stray lock of my hair. “Along with the others. We’re well into third watch, you’ve been asleep a while.”
“Not long enough,” Imral said, giving me a rueful smile. “I didn’t mean for you to hear this debate of ours.”
“Why not? I’m its subject.”
“Yes. But it isn’t proper for a boy of your age to hear such a matter discussed openly.”
“He’s right,” Kirith Kirin said. “We’ll let it go for now.”
The look of bitter darkness returned to his face. It was plain he would let Imral have his way for propriety’s sake, and that Imral would allow this to happen as well even though he didn’t look much happier about it than Kirith Kirin. Yet while I was asleep Kirith Kirin had been prepared to carry me away without asking. “We won’t let it go. We’ll finish it now once and for all. What sort of ceremony do you require, Imral? Karsten?”
“You’re too young for any such thing,” Imral said. “You’re a boy not yet old enough to be out of sleeves.”
I pulled the Fimbrel Cloak onto my shoulder and smiled. “The man who can put me in sleeves again doesn’t live, sir.”
“He has a point there,” Karsten said, stifling a laugh.
Imral looked extremely uncomfortable. He appealed to Kirith Kirin as if for mercy. “I’m only trying to prevent more loose talk. I know how you feel about the boy.”
“I don’t,” I said.
“What?” Kirith Kirin spun me around. “What do you mean?”
“I know you were prepared to carry me off when I was sleeping but you don’t seem so eager now that I’m awake. I’ve had lots of hints but they don’t seem like so much right at the moment.” I turned to Imral and Karsten. “As for the two of you, you didn’t mind leaving me with Kirith Kirin the night before we rode to Jiiviisn Field.”
Karsten merely smiled. Imral said, “But we thought you were leaving forever —”
“Honor is honor,” I said. “It makes no such exceptions. And gossip is gossip. Kirith Kirin’s bodyguards certainly saw me leaving the tent that morning. As far as that goes, no one will see me leaving Kirith Kirin’s bed tomorrow morning if I don’t choose to be seen. Now, what ceremony do you require to make this an honorable union?”
I asked this of no one in particular. The three of them looked at each other. Kirith Kirin said, “You’re not old enough for the gifting, as Imral has said.”
“Why not?”
“Your birthday is not until spring.”
“I have had my birthday,” I said, “three days ago in Jiiviisn Field. The son of Kinth will be sixteen in spring but I am Yron, and Yron is already a man.”
“The gentry won’t see it that way,” Imral said.
Karsten spoke vehemently. “They won’t like Kirith Kirin sleeping with his magician with or without benefit of ceremony, and we all know that!” She cocked an eyebrow, watching me. “If he’s old enough to stand on Ellebren where no one living or dead has ever stood, then he’s old enough to be called a man and not a boy. The Diamysaar said as much.”
The three of them looked at each other, and something passed between them that I failed to understand.
Imral said, mildly, “There is that.”
I turned to Kirith Kirin and took his hand. “The Sisters said you were afraid I’d ensorcelled you, that it was the reason you tested me on Sister Mountain. Are you still afraid?”
He shook his head. Words came softly. “No.”
Karsten said, “Then let Imral and me be witness to your pledge, my dears.”
Kirith Kirin trembled. Finally he managed words. “Imral? What do you say? If this doesn’t suit you I can’t go ahead with it —”
Imral drew in audible breath. His eyes were moist, glittering. “We’ll have to do the ceremony again, properly, or else people will truly never forgive us. Mordwen especially.”
I had been holding my breath without realizing it. I embraced Imral and kissed his cheek. The Venladrii Prince was trembling, too. “Thank you.”
“It would help if the Sisters had not taught you so young. We’d all know better how to treat you.”
“These are degenerate times,” I said, trying to sound like Mordwen.
We built the fire up to a pleasant roar again and exchanged gifts — most such oaths are taken in firelight even when the gifting takes place during the day. Kirith Kirin gave me a silver bracelet engraved with runes sacred to his house, Imhonyy. I could think of nothing to give him that had not first come from him until I remembered the necklace hidden in the cloak. While the locket was to be kept secret I could see no harm in giving him the chain, and so, in shadow, I pulled the leather pouch from its hiding place.
The red stone in the bird’s eye glimmered in my hand. The pendant felt oddly heavy, and for some reason put me in mind of the High Place where the same soft radiance pulsed like liquid starlight. But the others were waiting, I had no time. I returned the pendant to its hiding place and found my place by the fire.
The oath one takes is simple. “I will live in you as you will live in me. I give you my promise with this gift. May the gift last as long as the promise.” The words are deceptive for all that. To break this oath is a dishonor from which no one can recover.
Kirith Kirin said the words and placed the bracelet around my wrist. I said the words and gave my gift. The silver chain was long enough that it did not bind him. He touched it and embraced me. He wondered where I had gotten it but hesitated to ask; Karsten was passing round cups of wine for the pledge-mark. We touched cups and drank in silence. The thing was done.
No one said anything. I touched the bracelet, glad of its simplicity. I would wear it forever. Kirith Kirin was touching the silver chain at his neck. “This is true-silver, where did you come by anything so fine? Did you and Karsten have this planned?”
“I had nothing to do with it.” Karsten examined the silver chain too, idly curious. But her eyes narrowed. “These are house runes. Bend down, Kirith Kirin, I can’t read them.”
I studied them at the same time. She was right, there they were. I had spent much time studying the locket to the exclusion of the chain; my heart was in my throat. This one secret I had kept even from the Sisters; I supposed I was keeping faith with my mother’s last request.
“What does it say?” I asked.
Karsten turned to me, gazing at me skeptically. “You don’t know? These are signs of the House of Turisaeviisn. This belonged to Kentha.”
Imral bent to study them as well and confirmed what Karsten claimed. Kirith Kirin touched the runes and watched me. “Where did you get this?”
“From my mother. She gave it to me the night I left home.”
Imral frowned. “Where did your mother get it, do you know?”
“From my grandmother Fysyyn.”
He laughed that melodic laugh of his. “This grandmother of yours has always been a mystery to me. Where did she come by a necklace from one of the Jhinuuserret?”
I had no answer. Kirith Kirin, watching me intently, read more in my expression than I meant anyone to see. He took my face in his warm hands. “There’s more, isn’t there? Don’t be afraid, tell me. We’re joined to one another now, we can’t have secrets.”