Rhapsody, Child of Blood (41 page)

They generally spent the hours when the sun was directly overhead, or days when the weather was too rough to brave the gardens, in Lark's cottage, drying herbs and blending them together for medicinal uses and sweet-smelling sachets. The scent of the cottage was heavenly, and Rhapsody did not mind the long hours of painstaking work, enjoying the opportunity to absorb the lore. Occasionally she sang for Lark, Lirin songs that her mother had taught her, though Lark did not understand the tongue.

After ten days, Ilyana had claimed her, taking her on long rides over the vast fields in which the Filids toiled, even in winter, preparing them for spring planting. The faithful to which the Filids ministered were largely farming communities, and Ilyana had told her that the religion encompassed more than half a million known followers in the western part of the continent, a number Rhapsody found staggering.

By far the most interesting were the planting and harvesting rituals, rites that blessed the newly tilled ground and the fruit of the farmers' labor prior to it being gathered. The ceremonies that the Filidic acolytes studied were in the language of her homeland, the tongue Rhapsody had spoken as a child. The Filids called the language Old Cymrian, a thought that filled her with ironic sadness. Did that make her, and Achmed and Grunthor, Old Cymrians?

The thought gave birth immediately to an even more desolate one. They were not, in fact, Old Cymrians, but their ancestors. Given how long ago in the history of this place the Cymrian Age had been, it seemed as if Time had forgotten all about the three of them. When it remembered, it would undoubtedly be back to claim them.

t,''t't.t the end of the first month Rhapsody was handed over to Khaddyr again. The priest was the master of the healing arts, a talent he seldom let anyone forget, and though he could be somewhat pompous, Rhapsody found him to be a clear and skillful teacher, imparting his wisdom in a way that she could assimilate easily and practice immediately.

After two weeks of tending to the patients in the hospices that Khaddyr managed, she went on to Brother Aldo, who was also a Filidic healer, but of animals. She enjoyed learning from him; he was gentle and soft-spoken, and had a manner that quieted even the wild animals in his care.

Finally, she was sent to Gavin, the somber, silent chief of the foresters and scouts, the armed men she had seen when Khaddyr first brought her to the Tree. These men traveled the wide land, sometimes serving as guides to the faithful along the Cym-rian Trails, two series of markers that commemorated the journeys of the First and Third Cymrian Fleets after they landed, which Llauron had referred to on her first night with him. Apparently very few people followed the Trails now; instead, the pilgrims came to worship at the Tree.

Rhapsody could see that the majority of the scouts and foresters were not escorting pilgrims, but were traveling the lands of the holy forest, engaging occasionally in combat. Many of the patients in Khaddyr's hospice were men such as these, coming in haggard and worn, and often injured. Apparently this was not particularly unusual; Khaddyr and his acolytes tended to the men without any obvious surprise.

Late each afternoon Rhapsody returned to the Invoker's house. Llauron would be finishing up the duties of his office as leader of the Filids—a substantial job, from what Rhapsody could tell.

Each town had a Filid assigned to it to assist with crops and animals, and to help maintain a balance between nature and agriculture. In addition to providing guides to the religion's spiritual sites, it also fell to Llauron's office to maintain the hostels along the way. He did not object to these tasks, but early on he had confided to her how much he missed the days of his youth, when he had roamed the wild seas and wandered the forests of the world, free from administrative duties.

His way of recapturing those lost days was by taking her with him on long walks, where he would instruct her on the balance of nature and various aspects of the forest and the world around them. He knew every animal, and roughly how many of them lived in the wood, as well as each plant and tree, knowledge that he imparted to her in his light, pleasant voice.

It was almost like listening to a song, and she strolled with him, fascinated, as he told her of trees, how the oaks were strong and sacred, how ash trees were close to the spiritual world and so their branches were often used for wands and ritual magic.

He said that willows were greedy, maples were leaders, and evergreens were adventurous. He told her of the woodland plants, of mistletoe and holly, which held spiritual properties of life, of ferns and mints and countless others. Occasionally he would sing sea chanteys for her as they walked.

Llauron walked with a young man's pace and a vigor in his step; Rhapsody had known men half his age whose pace was half that of the Invoker. On their outings he carried a staff made of white wood and topped with a gleaming golden oak leaf, which he swung to keep pace rather than to bear his weight.

It had been made from a branch of the Great White Tree that had fallen ages ago during a storm and had been given to Ulbren the Younger, the Invoker of the Filids who had come from Serendair, bringing with him the religion they now practiced. It was considered the symbol of his office, but Llauron carried it as if it were an ordinary stick, pointing out birds and rapping on the trunks of ancient trees to sound their health.

Each evening their walks would end at sundown beneath the branches of the Great Tree, in time for Rhapsody to sing her twilight vespers. She had determined that Llauron had known the customs of the Liringlas prior to her arrival, and would expect her to sing her salutations to the rising sun and the stars, and so she did not attempt to hide the ritual from him, though Achmed's voice nagged in her head. The Invoker always stood beneath the Tree with her as she sang, smiling to himself, but never sharing whatever thoughts occurred to him during these times.

They would share an evening meal together, often talking late into the night about the forest and its creatures, or the Cymrian Age and all its wonder. In particular they discussed the Cymrian Council, an annual meeting of all the refugees of Serendair, held in something called the Great Moot. It was the intent of the council to maintain peace among all the diverse races that had~fted the doomed Island, to keep communication channels open, a worthy aspiration that had died on the battlefields of the Cymrian War.

Llauron was of the belief that the fragmented nations that had once been part of the Cymrian empire, Sorbold and Roland and the lands now occupied by the Firbolg, would only be able to maintain peace and resist war again if they were reunited into a common land. Rhapsody had noticed one realm missing in his discourse.

'What about the Lirin?" she asked, looking up over her sweet-fern tea.

'The Lirin were never part of the Cymrian realm. They were here first, after all, and resisted becoming part of it. But they were allies, and good friends to the First Generation, the refugees who had actually made the voyage and landed here. It was unfortunate that they ultimately got drawn into the war, which devastated much of Tyrian. And on top of that, it fragmented their society as well. Now even the Lirin are divided among themselves. A shame." Rhapsody nodded as Llauron fell silent.

'I will need to be going soon," she said as he stared into the fire. The Invoker's eyes turned back on her immediately, but she saw no sign of the glint that came into them occasionally when he was annoyed.

'Oh, dear, what a pity. I knew this day would come eventually, but I have to admit I've been dreading it, my dear. We've all grown to love you around here, Gwen and Vera and I. And I'm sure your instructors will be sorry to see you go."

'I'll be sorry to leave everyone as well," she replied sincerely. "And I've learned so much from all of you." A thought occurred to her when he mentioned the teachers.

"May I ask you something about the Filidic instructors?"

'Certainly."

'The religion does not ascribe celibacy to its priests, does it?"

'No, we leave that unnatural state to the Patriarchal religion of Sepulvarta, to the Patriarch and his benisons—those are his version of our high priests, the next rank below him in the hierarchy of that faith. Benisons are sometimes also known as Blessers when it is a specific title, such as the Blesser of Avon-derre. Why do you ask?"

'Well, I thought it interesting that none of the high priests of Gwynwood are married."

Llauron sat back in his chair and touched his fingertips together. "No, none of them are at that, are they?" he mused. "Well, Ilyana was married, but her husband was killed in a border incursion ten or so years back.

'Lark has never married, but then, as you know, she is very shy, as is Brother Aldo.

He prefers the company of beasts to that of women, though I certainly could introduce him to some that qualify as both." Rhapsody laughed. "Gavin isn't here often or long enough to marry; he is constantly on the forest path somewhere. And Khaddyr, well, actually, he is proscribed from marriage and progeny as my Tanist."

Rhapsody blinked. "Your what?"

'The Filids now use the laws of Tanistry to select a successor to the Invoker instead of some of the uglier rituals they once practiced, which generally involved fighting to the death."

'Oh, yes, Khaddyr did tell me something about that, but he said those rituals had not been practiced in a very long time, and you had not ascended through them."

'That is correct," Llauron said. "Tanistry dictates that the religious order pick its successor, generally someone hale and hearty and likely to survive the leader." He leaned forward con-spiratorially. "Frankly, I think I am much younger in body than Khaddyr, poor fellow. I doubt he'll outlive me."

She laughed again, feeling a little guilty. "I agree."

'In fact, I think that when the Circle elders meet, it's possible they will remove the title from him and make Gavin my Tanist. He has a better chance of surviving me, and is a very wise man. Not that Khaddyr isn't as well, of course. Khaddyr is one of the kindest men I know, and I think that's what makes him such a singular healer."

Rhapsody nodded.

'But a Tanist vows celibacy because the whole point of having one is to avoid the problems of succession and family lineage. If the Tanist were to have children before he or she became Invoker, it would complicate things, make him less likely to have a successor named. It's an awful system; it allows the Invoker to marry eventually if he so chooses, but usually by the time he takes the office he is a brittle old man like me, having waited for his predecessor to die. Silly, isn't it?"

Exhaustion was descending on Rhapsody. "I guess so. If you'll forgive me, Llauron, I think it's time for me to retire for the evening."

Llauron stood as she did and walked her to the door of the study. "Yes, my dear, get some sleep. You have a busy day ahead of you." He touched her arm. "And you're more than welcome to invite your two companions to come back here for a visit, too. I would most enjoy meeting them, I'm sure."

Rhapsody's arm trembled beneath his touch. She had never spoken of her Firbolg friends. She looked into the blue eyes and found them twinkling in the reflected firelight.

'Excuse me?"

'Come now, my dear. These are my lands. Did you think I wouldn't recognize something foreign when it came onto them? At first I believed it might have been a Firbolg incursion, but that is most unlikely. The Firbolg lands are very far away, and two of them traveling alone would doubtless have run into one of my scouts between here and Canrif.

'No, I assumed they were waiting for you, since they have been watching this place.

I long to hear the story of how you ended up in their company, but that can wait until another time. Why don't you invite them back for a visit?"

Rhapsody's entire body was trembling. "I—I don't think that would be a good idea,"

she whispered, her voice betraying her. "They're a little—well, antisocial."

Llauron nodded. "Well, I don't blame them a bit. Firbolg are often treated as less than human. How about a compromise? I will come to them. Ask them if they're willing to meet me, how's that? I will come to their camp instead, and come alone. It would be most enlightening; I've never met a Firbolg before."

Rhapsody's head was spinning. "All right," she said finally. "I can ask them."

The elderly face broke into a broad smile. "Very good. I will look forward to the meeting. Good night, my dear."

'Good night." She left the study quickly and wandered, as if in a daze, up the stairs and to her room. She undressed quickly and slid beneath the covers, pondering how she was going to explain this to Achmed", given his dislike of strangers and priests.

Every answer she came up with was inadequate, so she closed her eyes at last and fell into an anxious sleep. Her dreams of disaster shifted from the sinking of the Island to the reaction of her friends when they learned how many of their secrets were out.

Che light of the full moon overhead cast strange white shadows on the melting snow. The winter wind was high, and blew the cloak Rhapsody wore behind her as she rode the strawberry bay into the darkness of the forest road.

Once she came to the spot where she and the Firbolg had parted, near Tref-Y-Gwartheg, Rhapsody tied the horse to a bare-branched sycamore tree, leaving him with a feed bag of oats. Then she struggled through the mud of the forest floor to the clearing where she had agreed to meet Achmed and Grunthor.

It was easy to find the spot for two reasons, the first being that she had trained with Gavin. He had taken her through this area several times, and each time it had been effortless for her to find the spot Achmed had blazed as a waymarker.

The second reason for her ready location of the meeting place was that two shadows, one enormous, were already waiting for her there.

Until she saw her two Firbolg companions in the glen, she had not realized the depths to which she had missed both of them. The feeling was not a surprising one where Grunthor was concerned. What did cause her a moment's astonishment was that she found herself feeling the same way about Achmed. For a considerable amount of time along the Root she had hated him, blamed him for bringing this nightmare on her.