Misery's Child (The Cadian Chronicles) (9 page)

“Well, it seems
you have been reading something other than Gideon’s love poems.”

Lillitha stopped
dead in her tracks and gaped after her teacher. Yanna did not break her stride
and she hurried to catch up.

Yanna glanced down
at her and smiled, surprising Lillitha even more.

“No, your mother
did not tell me. Neither did Edlin, so don’t look so betrayed.”

“But how do you
know such things?” Lillitha couldn’t stop herself from asking. “You always seem
to know everything! Edlin says—” She bit her lip and looked away.

“Edlin says what?”

“Edlin says you
know magic. And I heard Tesla saying that all cadia are part witch.”

Yanna rolled her
eyes to the skies and sighed. She motioned to a fallen tree lying near the
path.

“Sit down a
moment, child. This is best discussed far from listening ears, since anything I
say is bound to be twisted into more old wives’ tales.”

“The cadia do not
practice magic,” Yanna began as Lillitha sat down beside her. “True magic is an
abomination that seeks to bend Oman’s will to our own ends. What the cadia
do
practice is observation and
knowledge. Such skills often appear miraculous to the ignorant. That is why we
train ourselves to listen to the world around us, to notice everything and
everyone. The still, small voice of Oman whispers inside each of us, if only we
listen for it carefully. That is why we meditate. Why we practice stillness and
silence. Close your eyes and remember your lessons.”

Lillitha did as
she was told.

“Tell me what you
hear,” the woman asked after a long silence.

The girl took a
deep breath, imagining that the air was cleansing water from a clear, cold
pool. She allowed the water to wash over her and through her, willing her mind
to utter blankness until she could hear the beating of her heart.

Hear it,
she
prayed.
Don’t imagine it: hear it.

“I hear the wind,”
she whispered. “It blows from the east, and I can smell the salt of the sea in
it. I can’t feel it, it blows so gently, but I can hear the leaves that rustle
behind us.”

“Very good....
What else?”

“The cries of
gulls. And over the next hill, there are sheep in the field. I can hear the tearing
of the grass as they graze. I hear two heartbeats, mine and then, more softly,
yours beside me.”

“Concentrate.”
Yanna’s voice was in her ear now. “Will your heartbeat to match mine, pulse for
pulse, rhythm for rhythm.”

She inhaled
slowly; once...twice...three times... And then the two beats merged.

She listened and
felt the pulse beating beneath her own skin. Far away, two other rhythms came
to her: quick and fast, the heartbeats of the two soldiers who accompanied
them.

Her eyes flew
open.

“Someone else is
here.”

Yanna snapped to
her feet. She’d been concentrating so hard on Lillitha she had not even heard
the stranger’s approach.

“Dwain, Garvin.”
Her voice was low and steady, but her eyes flashed in every direction. “Someone
is coming this way.”

Two boys, hands on
the daggers at their belts, appeared from the edge of the wood. They looked far
more frightened than either the cadia or the girl.

For several
moments, Yanna saw no one, though she could hear not one but two strange
heartbeats now herself. One belonged to a horse, she was sure of that even
before the dull clap of hooves reached her ears.

Lillitha looked at
her with wide, uncertain eyes.

Then he appeared
over the hill, a lone man on horseback. Neither he nor the horse seemed to be
in any hurry. Yanna relaxed her guard slightly but did not take her eyes off
him.

“Hallo!” He doffed
his cap to reveal a nearly
bald head
and smiled
broadly. He drew in his reins and halted a respectable distance away. “Oman
be
with you, sister! I
dinna
mean
to startle you. Mayhaps, you can tell me if I am near the vidoran of Kirrisian?
I asked directions of an old man outside a tavern, but he seemed a bit daft, if
I may say so.”

Yanna quickly
assessed his dress and the trappings of his horse. He wore a general’s tunic
embroidered with the Tiran crest. In the center of his chest dangled a large
medallion that glinted in the sun.

“Oman
be
with you, my lord general.” Yanna inclined her head
respectfully. She glanced at the two boys behind her and they retreated, daggers
sheathed. “The House of Kirrisian lies ahead of you on this very path. In the
name of Vidor Rowle, I bid you welcome.”

“Ah, then you are
attached to his household?” The old soldier beamed. “Excellent! Do I surmise
correctly that the young lady behind you is Rowle’s daughter? The Lady
Lillitha, isn’t it?”

“Yes, my lord
general.” Lillitha curtsied and offered up a tentative smile. “Are you
acquainted with my father then?”

“Aye, child! A
good bit more than acquainted, I dare to say. I am Bastrop
y’Tira
.
Your father and I served our time in the border army together.”

Lillitha’s face
lit up in genuine pleasure. “My father has spoken of you often, my Lord
Bastrop! He will be so pleased to see you!”

“Don’t believe a
word he says about me,” Bastrop grinned. “Your father is a terrible liar.
Sister, might I offer you or the Lady Lillitha my horse?”

“Thank you, but
no, my Lord Bastrop. We have not yet completed our morning constitutional. It
is kind of you to offer. I am certain we shall see you upon our return.”

The lord of Tira
bid them good-bye and trotted off down the path.

“How lovely!”
Lillitha exclaimed as she watched his back grow smaller. “I wish we had guests
every day.”

Yanna chose not to
hear the remark.

“Lillitha, you
must be careful to keep your wimple in place.” She adjusted the linen kerchief,
pulling it firmly back onto the girl’s head and tucking a stray curl back
underneath. “Oman’s beard, you have enough hair for three.”

Lillitha giggled.
Father’s friend was here! And from Tira, no less! No amount of Yanna’s chiding
could dim her excitement.

“Come, child. We
have a walk and a lesson to finish.”

Lillitha walked
faster now; the sooner they concluded their march, the sooner they would be
back at the house. Perhaps she would be allowed to help Tesla in the kitchen.
The cook was always much put out when unexpected guests arrived.

“You are getting
much better at listening,” Yanna said. So much better, in fact, that she
wondered if the girl was
tadomani
.
“It is a gift that will serve you well. Knowledge is the second strongest
weapon a woman may possess.”

“The second?
What’s the strongest then?”

“The wisdom to
know how to use it.”

“Is that how you
knew about the poems, then?”

Yanna smiled
again, ever so slightly. She had not expected to find so much amusement in her
position as cadia-
techa,
neither had she expected to
feel such affection for her charge. She was often more abrupt than she intended
lest Lillitha detect any softness in her.

“I simply
observed. You were acting strangely that day in the library. One minute you
were half-asleep with boredom, the next your color was high and your
respiration had increased. I had only to glance at the shelves and see that the
volume of Gideon was missing to surmise you had taken it.”

“Are you angry
with me?”

“I suppose I
should be.”

“But you’re not?”

“What’s done is
done. You’ll find that rules and traditions have a purpose. In breaking them,
it is yourself to whom you do the most harm.”

Somehow the
cadia’s calm answer was even direr than angry words.

“I am not here to
force you along a path,” Yanna continued, “but to guide you. The most important
lessons are the ones you must figure out for yourself.”

The girl’s
forehead creased. “I don’t understand.”

“You’re not
ignorant. You’ve read it. Why do you suppose reading that kind of poetry is
discouraged?”

“I...uh, because
it was written by a Tor?” She knew it was the wrong answer even before Yanna
frowned.

“I know that the
love between Homa and Gideon was wrong,” Lillitha stammered. She hated it when
Yanna pursed her lips that way. “Homa was a married woman.”

“Love is never
wrong. Nowhere in the poem is Homa actually unfaithful to her husband. The
danger in such poetry is not in its content, but in the feelings it may
arouse.”

“If love is never
wrong, then what is the harm? It was such a beautiful story—”

“If you are chosen
shallana
breda
, whom do you suppose you will think of
when the Shallan takes you to his marriage bed? Gideon or Bogrode? Will it make
your duty any easier to long for what you will not and cannot have?”

“I had hoped... I
had hoped that I might...” she stammered, unable to speak it out loud. She
suddenly saw her folly clearly. She looked away, unable to bear Yanna’s gaze.

“Don’t hope for
one minute that love will be any part of your life as shallana
breda
,” Yanna said crossly. “Except during joining, the
shallana breda is never alone with the shallan. Never. For him to allow himself
to have any feelings at all for her is strictly forbidden.”

“But why? Should
not the sacred joining be softened by some sort of affection?”

“Think, Lillitha!
You’ve a brain in your head, use it!” Yanna stopped walking and took hold of
the girl’s shoulders as if she would shake her. “When six summers have come and
gone, with or without the birth of a male child, the Shallan must put aside his
bride and choose another! Affection between them would only make that duty
harder! And it is all about duty, duty and nothing more! Not love, not even
companionship! Understand that now.”

Lillitha shrugged
away from the cadia. She was ashamed of her foolishness and of the tears that
stung her eyes.

“Ah, little
sister.” She cradled the girl against her chest and patted her gently. “I would
not be so harsh were it not so important for you to understand this now. You
cannot tread this path blinded by youthful dreams. You’ll break your own heart
if you do.”

“I’m sorry,
Yanna.” She stepped out of the embrace, wiping at her eyes. “You are right. I
mustn’t act like a silly child.”

“But you are a
child. And you have yet another summer to grow up before we face the Single
Moon.”

“Yanna, do you
think I will be chosen?”

“It is not
productive to waste time in conjecture.” Yanna took her hand and they began to
walk again. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know.”
Lillitha sighed heavily. “Sometimes I get the oddest feeling...”

“Feeling about
what?”

“Sometimes...sometimes
when I think about the shallan, it’s like there’s a small bird caught in my
chest, beating its wings so hard it hurts...”

Yanna peered at
her sharply and Lillitha stammered. “I want to become cadia, truly. I love my
studies, but I almost hope I’m not chosen. Is that wrong of me?”

“Being chosen
shallana is both an honor and a heavy burden. That you should be afraid is only
human.” Yanna’s eyes misted, as if she were looking at something only she could
see on the horizon. “But you must conquer this fear, Lilli. Your fate is no
longer in your hands or even mine.”

Lillitha looked at
the crumbling walls of House Kirrisian that rose in the distance. She thought
of her mother and father, working in the fields from sunrise to
sunfall
. She thought of her brother Jonil, his ashes tossed
in the wind towards the sea, and of Paul and Marta, in their patched,
handed-down clothes.

“No,” she said in a voice so much older than her
own that Yanna glanced at her, her flesh prickling in spite of the heat. “It
never has been, has it?”

Chapter 5: A Visit from an Old Friend

Rowle was eager
for news of the realm, but he had little chance to speak with his friend
privately. Paul tagged at their heels the whole afternoon as the two men
surveyed the vidoran. At dinner, all three of the children hung on Bastrop’s
every word as he regaled them with outrageous tales.

“So your father
here, he couldn’t have been more than fifteen summers at the most,” Bastrop
said, winking at Rowle, “and what a scrawny pup he was too, then—well, he
looks General Bayard dead in the eye and he says, ‘But my lord, I thought you
meant your horse!’”

Even Yannamarie
smiled broadly as laughter echoed off the
stone walls
.

“I can’t wait
until I can go into the border army, too,” Paul piped up. “Father says I can go
when I’m fifteen.”