Progeny (The Children of the White Lions) (54 page)

Pressing her lips together, she stood quickly, and moved a short distance away from the fire. Kenders made to stand, intending to go and comfort her, but a small headshake and murmured “uora” from Broedi stopped her. His eyes, brown and wise, conveyed a simple message: stay seated and leave Sabine alone. She complied and eyed Sabine. Beyond the farm girl, early evening stars were visible in the east.

After few quiet moments, Kenders peered back to the hillman and, in a low, whispered tone, asked, “So, what do we do? We can’t leave them here by themselves. And they can’t go into any of the cities where there are Constables.”

Still cradling Helene, Nikalys muttered, “She’s right.”

Broedi nodded and said, “I know
.
” A pensive scowl filled his face. He was clearly struggling with something. “Give me a moment, please. I am thinking.”

Kenders, sat back, shut her mouth, and waited. She wanted more than that, but pressing Broedi when he did not want to talk was a waste of time.

Eventually, Sabine returned to the fire and sat without saying a word. Nobody did for a time. Even Helene remained quiet, resting snug in Nikalys’ arms. Kenders thought the girl had fallen asleep until she shifted and looked up at Nikalys’ face. The little girl gave him a tiny smile before laying her head back down. It was as if she were simply checking to see if he was still there.

Broedi broke the silence with a long, weary sigh. Looking to Sabine, he rumbled softly, “I wish to try something, uora.”

Sabine’s eyes grew suspicious.

“What?”

Broedi replied, “Nothing I will do will be harmful to you or the little one. Try to remain calm.”

Kenders suspected she knew what the hillman was planning. Catching Sabine’s eyes, she offered a friendly smile and said, “Don’t worry. Broedi’s mostly harmless.”

The hillman glanced at her, his eyebrows raised slightly.

Kenders shrugged. Harmless was a relative term.

Sabine remained motionless, the expression on her face wary.

“What do you want to try?”

Broedi picked up the waterskin beside him, uncorked the top, and poured a puddle of water on the ground. A moment later, Kenders felt the now-familiar crackling and watched as a few brilliant, blue Strands of Water danced around the spilled water. Turning her attention to Sabine, she watched the young woman tilt her head and squint, straining to see what Kenders could see as plainly as the sun at midday.

Helene sat tall in Nikalys’ lap and twisted around to stare at the Water Strands, her eyes bright and a wide smile on her face. “Those blue ribbons are much prettier than yours, Sabine.” She did not show a hit of fear.

While Kenders admired the little girl’s courage, it struck her that a four-year-old was showing more bravery than she was. She did not know what to do with that realization.

Broedi used the Strands of Water to weave a simple pattern. The puddle of water drew up, off the ground, flowing upward and back into the skin. Once inside, Broedi replaced the stopper and stared at Helene.

“Can you see the blue or orange ribbons better?”

As Helene stared at the large hillman, her expression darkened, visibly unsure of the giant man. With worried eyes, she looked to her sister. After Sabine nodded her head—somewhat reluctantly—Helene peered up at Nikalys. He gave a reassuring smile and patted her back gently.

“It is fine, Helene. Broedi’s a nice man.”

Looking back to Broedi, Helene whispered, “Both are shiny.” She paused. “Blue is prettier, though.”

With a nod, Broedi placed the waterskin on the grass. A moment later, Kenders felt a surge of gold and orange. Strands of Will combined with the flickering orange of Fire in a pattern Kenders was still trying to master. There was a subtle difference in the Weave this time, however.

A tiny man of flickering fire, no bigger than Kenders’ hand, appeared above the flames of the campfire. The man pranced about, doing a funny little dance in midair. Helene laughed gleefully at the display.

“What colors do you see now?” asked Broedi.

“Orange!” giggled Helene. “I like the dancing man! Sabine? Why can’t you do that?”

Sabine did not answer. She was staring at the figure over the fire, an anxious frown affixed on her face.

With a poof, the dancing man disappeared, prompting a disappointed “Oh…” from Helene.

Again, Broedi picked up the waterskin and uncorked it. The crackling returned and Kenders saw the rippling, cobalt blue strings joining with sparkling silver as Broedi poured the water onto the ground. Instead of the water splashing onto the ground, though, it took the amorphous shape of another small man.

Helene shouted in delight, “Those ribbons look like your necklace, Sabine!”

Everyone looked to Sabine as the farm girl reached to her neck, pulled out a simple silver chain necklace, and stared at it.

Lowering the waterskin near the ground, Broedi said, “Climb back in, please.” The figure of water stepped over and climbed into the hole, disappearing. The hillman looked at Sabine and asked, “Have you seen anything besides the blue Strands?”

Sabine shook her head slowly, all the while staring at Helene nervously.

Broedi tried two other small weaves of Air and Life, but neither sister responded. As Broedi released the green Weave of Life, halting the rapid growth of a patch of grass, Helene spoke up.

“Can you make the brown ribbons again?”

Kenders and Broedi exchanged looks. Helene was evidently speaking of the Strands of Stone Kenders had used to pulverize the house wall. Kenders prayed Broedi was not going to ask her to do something with them now.

“Not now, little uora
,
” replied Broedi gently. “It is late and you should get some sleep.”

Kenders breathed a sigh of relief.

Shaking her head, Helene said, “But I’m not tired.” She immediately yawned.

Managing to sweep aside whatever worry that rested on her face, Sabin outstretched her arms, smiled, and said, “Come here, Helene. Let’s lie down. And no arguments, please.”

While pouting, Helene nonetheless climbed from Nikalys’ lap and began walking to her sister. Halfway to Sabine, she halted, turned around, and ran back to Nikalys. She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a kiss on his cheek.

“Good night, Nik-lys.”

She seemed to have trouble saying his name correctly, having yet to get it right.

Clearly surprised by the display of affection, Nikalys nonetheless smiled at the little girl and said, “Good night, Helene. Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” He gave her a quick hug.

Helene nodded and scampered back to Sabine. Launching herself into her sister’s arms, she demanded, “Sing me my song.”

Sabine glanced at the group around the fire and, with a touch of embarrassment, said, “Not tonight, dear.”

A bit more emphatically, Helene said, “Sing me my song,
please
.”

Kenders smothered an amused smile.

Shaking her head, Sabine smiled—a true smile—and began to sing in a soft, soothing tone.

Five notes into the song, and Kenders was in awe. Sabine’s singing was stunning.

Beautiful.

Melodious.

Soothing.

Her voice put every playman Kenders had ever heard to shame. She, Nikalys, and even Broedi stared, enthralled by the private performance.

After a few repetitions of
Happy Times at the Fair
, Helene was sound asleep. Sabine moved her sister to a one blanket and covered her with another, both of which she had taken from their ruined home. For a minute, she sat there, stroking her younger sister’s hair, still softly humming. Once Helene was in a deep sleep, Sabine let the song fade away and turned back to the rest of them. The creased lines on her face betrayed her true anxiety.

Without preamble, she asked, “What does all of that mean?” It was obvious she was referring to Broedi’s displays with the Strands. “Is Helene alright? Will she be safe?”

Kenders glanced at Broedi, curious to hear his answer.

After letting out a long sigh, the hillman asked, “What do you know of the Strands?”

Sabine stared at him, her expression cold and blank.

“The Strands?”

Kenders sighed herself. This sounded familiar.

Thus began Broedi’s explanation of magic to Sabine. He spoke of weaving, the nine types of Strands, how different people could be strong with some and weak with others, how some people were born with the ability and others did not discover it until later in life. Sabine never spoke a word, listening with a healthy amount of respect. When Broedi was finished, Sabine sat still for a moment, absorbing everything. Finally, she peered at Broedi.

“So…you are saying that because Helene is able to see these ‘Strands’ so clearly, she will be able to ‘weave’ them?”

“Yes,” rumbled Broedi. “With training, she can.”

“Is there any way to make it go away?” asked Sabine, the worry in her voice clear.

A moment passed before Broedi turned his gaze on Kenders “Uora? Perhaps
you
should answer that question.”

With raised eyebrows, Kenders said, “Me?”

Broedi nodded, silent, and held her gaze. Sabine turned to stare at her, too.

Glancing at Sabine, Kenders saw a young woman—only a couple years older than she was—worried about the same things over which she had agonized. Magic may be a gift, but it was a burden, too. Before Kenders could say anything, however, Nikalys surprised her by speaking first.

“Sabine, I know you are afraid for your sister.” He turned his gaze to Kenders. “Trust me, I know what that’s like.” Looking back to Sabine, he said, “When we were growing up, our parents would tell us that magic is like a spade. You can use it to grow food or smash in a man’s head. The spade, however, remains a spade. It is a tool. A tool that relies on its wielder to choose its purpose.”

“A farmer can drop a spade if they want to,” muttered Sabine.

“Magic is a part of you,” said Nikalys. “It is a part of Helene. Accept it and move forward.”

Kenders knew he was speaking to her as much as he was to Sabine.

Nikalys shifted his gaze to Helene’s sleeping form. “She seems like a wondrous and sweet soul.” He peered back to Sabine. “And as long as she has you to keep an eye over her and raise her right, she will be fine. You both will.”

A quiet moment or two passed, broken by a soft rumble from Broedi.

“Well said, uori.”

Kenders stared at her brother and smiled, appreciating his words. She might doubt her destiny as a mage, but Nikalys was embracing it for her.

Entirely unaware of the moment between the siblings, Sabine shook her head and protested, “But magic is outlawed.”

“So?” rumbled Broedi. “Are all laws just?”

Sabine stared at the hillman. “Just or not, it is the law. I doubt I will be able to argue the merits of the ‘law’ as the Constables drag Helene away from me. I can’t risk taking her around other people. They will take her from me.” A cold fire flashed in her eyes. “And then I’ll be alone.”

This entire exchange was eerily familiar. Kenders looked to Nikalys and found him peering at Sabine, the narrowed eyes and slight frown on his face an indication that he was thinking the same thing. At least, that is what Kenders thought he was pondering. Upon further inspection, she was not so sure.

Broedi spoke a few heartbeats later, softly rumbling, “Then come south with us.”

Kenders turned her head and gaped at the hillman, stunned that he would suggest such a thing.

“He’s right,” muttered Nikalys a moment later. ”You should come with us.”

Wondering if both her brother and the White Lion had gone mad, Kenders asked, “Pardon me, but is that wise?” The list of reasons why it was not was long, none of which she could share in front of Sabine.

Broedi gazed at Kenders and said, “Of the sour choices before us, this is the sweetest.”

“How do you figure?” demanded Kenders.

Again, Nikalys answered a question put to her. “As I see it, Sabine has three choices.” Lifting his hand, he extended a lone finger. “One: she can stay here, at this ruined house and farm, waiting for bandits to return.” A second finger joined the first. “Two: she can take Helene to a city and have no coin, no family, and a constant threat hanging over them that the Constables will discover them as mages.” He extended a third finger. “Three: they can come along with someone who might be able to offer a safer place to live their life.” His eyes glinted in the firelight as he peered at Kenders. “Sound familiar?”

Kenders still felt as if she should protest, but she did not. Nikalys had made his point well. Very well.

Sabine asked carefully, “Safer place?” Her eyes betrayed a glimmer of hope as she glanced at the faces around the fire. “What do you mean? Where is it?”

Pointing to Broedi, Nikalys said, “Ask him. But don’t expect an answer.”

Suspicion returned to Sabine’s face as she turned a cautious eye toward Broedi.

“Where is this safer place?”

The hillman sat very still, his gaze fixed on Sabine’s face. After a few quiet breaths, he asked, “You do not trust me, do you?”

Without hesitation, Sabine said, “Not at all.”

Broedi sighed, placed his now-extinguished pipe in his mouth, and rumbled, “We head south, through the Blackbark Forest, to a hold on Storm Island.”

Shocked, Kenders glared at Broedi.

“We’ve been asking you that for over a week!”

“And I said I would tell you when you the time was right. Now is that time. I do not have time to earn her trust as I did yours.” Peering at Sabine, he asked, “Had I not told you where we are going, would you have considered coming with us?”

Sabine shook her head.

“Absolutely not.”

Broedi looked back to Kenders, wearing an expression as though that settled the matter. Kenders pressed her lips together and sighed. Sometimes Broedi could be maddening.

Nikalys asked, “Does that mean you
are
coming, then?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” muttered Sabine.

Nikalys was quiet for a moment, his gaze drifting over to where Helene lay sleeping, her tiny snores drowned out by Jak’s louder ones.

“The two of you are not safe here.”