Shards of Time (56 page)

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Authors: Lynn Flewelling

BOOK: Shards of Time
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Seregil, Alec, and Micum remained at Mirror Moon that summer, except for frequent visits with their friends in Deep Harbor. More ’faie and ya’shel came to the estate, seeking a peaceful place to live out their long days, and joined the others to build more cottages to handle the growing population. Those who showed magical aptitude were sent off to Thero for training, and the wizard was enjoying the challenge.

Seregil, Micum, and Alec often worked with the builders. Micum had been right. There was the beginning of a respectable little hamlet at Mirror Moon now. Their hands grew callused, and they were all brown as nuts.

One afternoon, as Seregil and Alec sat in the shade of a tree, drinking mugs of the first
turab
brewed on the estate as they watched the builders at work, Alec turned to him and said, “I think you’re happy.”

Seregil raised a brow at him. “What made you think I wasn’t?”

“You know.”

“Thero and I have had some good talks. It’s not easy for
him, but he says that he’s not the first blind wizard, and that he truly doesn’t blame me. I’m not going to dishonor that by moping around. He’s got his own little wizards’ school and a baby daughter on the way. He’s happy, too.”

“Good. But I think there’s more to it than that. I think you like it here.”

“You certainly are doing a lot of thinking today!” Seregil teased.

“I just wondered if you want to stay here.”

“For how long?”

Alec let out an impatient sigh. “I’m asking you if you plan to go back to Rhíminee!”

“You have considerable say in that, Alec. What do you want?”

Alec rested his chin on his knees, gazing out over the hamlet, where men were swinging hammers and planing lumber. Micum had his shirt off and was helping plaster a wall. Women were working with them, or carrying out baskets of excellent food. Sabriel had turned down Thero’s offer of training, much preferring her kitchen kingdom, where she had several new helpers. Mika was back for a visit, and Seregil could hear him and Vhadä laughing somewhere nearby.

“I do like it here,” Alec said at last. “I think we should come back when we can, but I don’t think I’m ready to give up on nightrunning just yet.”

“Me, neither.”

And that was settled.

Elani’s ship and its escorts sailed into Deep Harbor on a hot day in late summer. As soon as the gangway was down she appeared at the head of it, fair and pretty in a green summer frock. She waved, then came down to meet Klia and the others, who stood back to let the royal kin greet each other. Klia also wore a light summer gown, and the front of it showed the gentle swell of her belly. With no silks, jewels, or coronets, they looked like a pair of ordinary young women, delighted to see each other. Elani’s mother followed, and her ladies-in-waiting.

Klia started to bow, but Elani stopped her with an exuberant
hug. “I’m so glad to see you well, dear aunt! And Thero, my uncle.” She went to him and took his hands. The wizard smiled and raised her hand to his lips. “You honor me greatly, Majesty. You remember Mika, I’m sure.”

“Brave boy and such a fine wizard already,” Elani said, kissing the boy on the cheek. “I hear they taught you to play bakshi. Seregil has given me some lessons, so we’ll have to have many games while I’m here. And you three!” Seregil, Alec, and Micum, dressed in their best, bowed low, hands on their hearts. “Again, I owe you so much. I’ve heard all about your exploits.”

“We’re honored to serve you, Majesty,” Seregil replied.

She looked closely at Alec. “You’re thin, my lord, and so brown.”

“We’ve been doing a bit of building at Mirror Moon, Majesty. It keeps me fit.”

Elani gave him a knowing look; she and Klia had been corresponding for months and Seregil doubted there was much that the queen didn’t know.

“Mama, you know my friends,” said Elani as Aralain joined them.

The princess gave them a cool nod. “I do. Thank you for your service to the Crown.”

Just then another trio came down the gangway. A priest and priestess of Illior robed in white and wearing their silver masks escorted a young, white-robed girl with a long braid of blond hair. Her eyes were vacant and her companions guided her to stand before Klia and the queen. It was clear she was simple-minded; only the god-touched could channel the voice of the Immortal.

Elani took the young girl’s hand and put an arm around her shoulders. “Behold, my friends, the Oracle of Kouros!”

The others bowed, and the girl laughed and hid her face against Elani’s shoulder.

“The caves are restored,” Klia told her, “and a very nice cottage has been built for her and her attendants. We shall have the dedication at your pleasure.”

“Oh, very soon,” said Elani. “Now let’s see Deep Harbor.”

Two days later Seregil and Alec accompanied the others and the queen to the caves, at the head of an entourage of Elani’s retainers, Mayor Hasen and his wife, and other eminent townspeople. The Oracle and her attendants rode in an open carriage decked with flowers, flanked by Elani and Klia.

The stonework around the entrance to the first cave had been damaged by the earthquake, but had been repaired so skillfully that it was difficult to tell. Members of Klia’s guard flanked the flower-decked altar, where the flame burned, reflected in the basin of clear water beside it. The priest and priestess held a brief rededication ceremony, then accompanied the Oracle, Elani, and Klia inside while the rest waited outside in the sunshine. The third cave had been repaired with a masonry wall that Thero had sculpted to look as it had before the cataclysm. Even blind, he was an artist.

After that followed several weeks of frivolity. Elani was clearly delighted to be away from the constraints and duties of Rhíminee, having left that in the capable hands of her uncle Korathan, the vicegerent. She toured Menosi, but declined to take up residence in the old palace, instead ordering the construction of a small, charming summer palace on a headland near Deep Harbor. She’d brought the architect and a crew of masons and builders with her to begin the task, and hired many more people from the surrounding area.

In the meantime, there were riding parties and picnics, boat rides and hunting. She was very taken with Mirror Moon and spent a week there, which sent the household into a flurry of feasts and pleasant pastimes. Alec had had an archery list built and he and the queen spent many happy hours together there. It was there, after swearing Alec to deepest secrecy, that she confessed that she had a suitor, a young marquis Alec and Seregil had gambled with on occasion. He was a good sort, and Alec promised to keep her secret. She hadn’t told her mother yet. There in the list, dressed for shooting, with her fair hair escaping her braid and fluttering in the light breeze, Alec was struck again by her freshness
and light humor, as well as her intelligence. He prayed she did not lose any of that; Skala had had enough of dark times.

The new governor, a capable woman named Archduchess Nurana, arrived as summer began to fade, and it was time for leave-taking. Klia, Thero, and Mika sailed back to Rhíminee with Elani, together with the wizard-born ’faie from Mirror Moon.

Seregil had contracted with a sea captain to carry him, Alec, and Micum back to Skala with a shipment of two dozen fine Mirror Moon horses, destined for Watermead.

On their last night at Mirror Moon, one lit by a yellow late-summer moon, the people of the little village that now took up most of the north meadow held a great bonfire and feast in their benefactors’ honor, and it was a lively affair. Kordira joined them, and even Dorin took part. There were several good fiddlers and drummers among the villagers, and a ya’shel girl who played a reed flute. Seregil and Alec were coaxed into singing as well.

When the feasting was over, Seregil climbed onto one of the tables and shouted for silence, then held down his hand for Alec to join him. They’d shed their coats hours ago in the lingering warmth of the day, and it was good to feel the sea breeze against his skin.

“My dear friends, and you are that,” he began, “Alec and I are so very glad to celebrate with you, for the home you’ve made for yourselves here.”

“We owe it to you, my lords!” a woman shouted, and many others took up the cry.

Seregil smiled and gestured for silence again. “That may be so, but we’ve no wish to make dependents of you. You’re free to live and work as you like. That’s all the thanks we need. We very much appreciate your warm hospitality and we have a gift for each of you, if you care to accept it. Anri?”

The weaver and Vhadä came forward with two large baskets of cloth. Anri handed one up to Alec, who shook it out to show the crowd a large square of fine, soft wool, woven with white crescent moons against a sea-blue ground.

“Many of you may not know what this is,” said Alec. He
passed his to Seregil and took another from Anri. “These were woven by Master Anri—who’s very good at keeping a secret, by the way—here at Mirror Moon, from the wool of Mirror Moon sheep. The blue dye comes from the shells of sea snails gathered on the seashore.” With that, he and Seregil folded, twisted, and tied them around their heads, with the long tails over their shoulder.

Seregil took up the speech. “These, for those of you too young to know, are sen’gai, the birthright of everyone with a drop of ’faie blood. They are worn to honor Aura Lightbringer, and to show which clan one belongs to. And that’s what you are, my dear friends. You are the clan of Mirror Moon, wearing Aura’s moon and the color of the surrounding sea. Will you accept our humble request, and live as a clan?”

For a moment all he could hear was the sawing of crickets and the breeze. Then Khiria and her sister Sabriel stepped forward and each took a sen’gai from the basket. Turning to face the others, they skillfully copied the style Seregil and Alec used. Willow came forward, took two sen’gai, and gave one to Vhadä. Then she tied hers on like a kerchief.

“Until I learn the fancy way,” she announced, and was greeted with cheers.

Two lines formed as every man, woman, and child queued up to accept a sen’gai. Those who knew how to tie it helped those who didn’t, and within half an hour they looked like a proper clan.

“Your next task will be to elect a
khirnari
and form a clan council, but that can wait for another day,” said Seregil. “Tonight is for celebrating, so more music and more turab!”

The dancing and merriment went on through the night, and the turab flowed like a river. By dawn everyone was unconscious on the grass or had gone off to bed, except for the guests of honor, Micum, and the doctor. Sitting together on a table, they watched the sun rise.

“Are you sad to be going?” asked Kordira.

“We’ll come back this time next year, if not sooner. They want to have a Founders’ Day feast,” Alec said. “But I think the estate and village are in good hands.”

“You’ve done a very fine thing here.”

Seregil shrugged. “We got them started. It’s up to them to make it work.”

The doctor smiled. “They will. I’ve a mind to take on a few students here. I can’t be doctor to the whole island, after all.” She paused. “There are those who won’t be pleased to see a clan here.”

“Will they make trouble?” asked Micum.

“It’s hard to say. At least the new governor is on their side. And I’ll keep an eye on things for you, too.”

Seregil leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’ve said it before. You’re a useful person to have around.” He smiled and offered his hand. “And the first Plenimaran I’ve ever called friend.”

S
EREGIL
and Alec leapt over the low cottage garden wall into the next snowy little yard, ducked under a clothesline, and over the next wall, but the three bluecoats were still close behind them. Seregil was reasonably certain that in their dark clothes and black silk masks there wasn’t much chance of Alec or him being recognized at this time of night, especially here in Cirna, but getting caught would be embarrassing, if not disastrous. That was always the risk of burgling the house of someone who knew you, especially someone who loathed you as much as did elderly Duchess Tria—a regrettable past conquest of his misspent youth.

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