Child of Flame

What waited beyond Bulkezu’s little camp struck dismay into her heart. As her awareness lifted higher, caught on an aetherical breeze, she saw that Prince Bulkezu’s was only one campsite situated among many—more than she could count in the darkness. The tents of the Quman lay scattered through the forest like uncounted pebbles.

This wasn’t a raiding party at all. It was the Quman army.

Bulkezu had swung wide around Handelburg. He’d abandoned Bayan and his shattered army, left them holed up and impotent in the east, and now was driving west toward the heart of Wendar itself.

The Quman weren’t the only ones waiting in the cold night. Dread creatures stalked the Earth, patient and single-minded. Beyond the trip lines and other protective wards, the shadows of elves waited, arrayed in hunting groups, their thwarted rage like the throb of a lute string in the air. Would she never escape them? Why did they pursue her, she who had never glimpsed such creatures before? How had she angered them, or called attention to herself? Had they, like the hideous galla, learned her name?

A breath of cold air brushed her lips, like a kiss, and she came crashing back into her body, heart pounding with fear. But she hadn’t moved, nor had anyone touched her. The night wind had teased the entrance flap open. Through the gap she saw outside into the open space between the tents. It had been snowing again. The tracks of the battle lay buried under a fresh blanket of snow, white and pristine.

The owl glided into view and came to rest on the unbroken snow. It blinked once, and she knew then that it was looking right at her.

She had seen this owl before. This was the owl who had appeared at the abandoned village, just two nights ago, before disaster had broken over them. This was the owl Liath had spoken to at the palace of Werlida just as though it could understand her.

She knew now what it was. This was the centaur woman’s owl, that Hanna had seen in her dreams.

It waited, golden eyes staring. Silence settled like snow.

Bulkezu laughed. He sucked on his pipe before speaking in comprehensible Wendish. “Nay, dreaded one, I will not harm the woman with the frost-white hair. I fear your power too much. But now she’s mine. Get her back if you can.”

XI

THE NOISE OF
THEIR WAKING

1

ON the first fine spring day, Adica walked down from the stone loom after a weary afternoon of meditation. The gorgeous weather had not helped her keep her mind focused, not when the song of birds kept distracting her, and primrose and blooming flax painted the ground in pale yellows, blues, and violets. She kept wondering where her husband was, and what he was doing.

As usual, she had no trouble finding him. She had only to follow the sound of laughter, to walk down to the river where it seemed most of the village had’ gathered, whooping and hollering over some ridiculous male contest. Spring had come, and that of course meant men became infected with the Green Man’s mischief.

Alain stood knee-deep in the river shallows, having challenged all comers to a wrestling match. She arrived in time to see him flip poor Kel into the deep water, dunking him. Kel came up shrieking from the shock of the cold water. A half-dozen other men stood shivering and wet on the bank, egging their fellows on.

“Throw him in!”

“It’s more than he deserves! Hold him under!”

“Whoo! Ha! That water’s so cold it’ll be summer before my wife gets any pleasure out of me!”

“Well, then,” called his wife from the crowd, “the Black Deer traders come through this time of year. I’ll have to please myself with them until you’re fit for use.” She started a rowdy chorus of “My man can’t even walk up the path to his own house,” and most of the other women joined in.

Alain was laughing as he helped Kel out of the water. He had stripped down to a simple loincloth; it was the first day warm enough to do so. Even though Adica knew his body intimately by now, she still admired his lean hips and broad shoulders. Usually she combed and braided his hair for him, but it had all come loose around his shoulders. A man’s beard had grown in over the winter, thus proving to the last of the skeptics, such as they were, that he had not one drop of the Cursed Ones’ blood running in his veins.

Weiwara moved over to stand beside her. She held the elder twin, Blue-bud, in her arms. Adica ached to hold the baby, beautiful and plump as it was, but dared not ask. “You’d think you were married yesterday instead of last autumn the way you ogle him,” said Weiwara with a chuckle, shifting the baby to her other hip. “Look, here comes Beor.”

Kel, still whimpering, staggered out of the river and grabbed a skin cloak to wrap around himself just as Beor stalked up to the shore and stripped off his knee-length tunic.