Destiny: Child of the Sky

23

Near Tyrian City, Forest of Tyrian

A birdcall went up from the border watchers of Tyrian as they rode out to meet the chestnut mare and its riders. Oelendra listened to the trill: One rider, with a child. She smiled to hear the code names they were using: It’s the goddess, without Sin. She left the tent and headed out to greet Rhapsody.

A small brown-skinned boy rode before her on the mare, a child with gleaming black hair and enormous dark eyes. He was staring around and above him with the awe of a desert dweller who had never been in a forest before. Rhapsody spoke to him intermittently in a gentle voice that seemed to reassure him. In her arm, hidden from sight behind his back, was a bundle that Oelendra assumed was the infant; a shriek went up a moment later, confirming her guess. Oelendra chuckled as the birdcalls immediately began changing the tally on the number of children arriving with the rider.

Four Lirin guards met her, as they had each time before, at the edge of the Inner Forest border. One took the bridle she threw down to him as the other removed the saddlebags she pointed to, carrying them to Oelendra’s house. The other two border watchers retraced her path to ensure that she was not followed as the first returned the bridle to her. They were all becoming accustomed to this drill; this was the third time Rhapsody had brought children to Oelendra to keep in her care.

It was the first time she had come alone, however. On each previous occasion she had arrived with Achmed, and the Lirin had treated the Firbolg king deferentially, as Rhapsody’s guest, but had not accorded him the royal pomp that they otherwise might have. This was the arrangement they had all agreed to when setting the strategy by which the children of the F’dor would be located and collected. Oelendra was enjoying looking after the growing passel of them until Rhapsody could return to ferry them over to the Lord and Lady Rowan.

As initially hesitant as Oelendra had been to take in the spawn of the demon she hated more than anything, in the end she had relented and been glad of it. Although some were rambunctious, and one in particular was obnoxious in the extreme, she was beginning to acknowledge that, at least on some level, despite the demonic aspect of their makeup, they were just children like any others. In the intervening time between Rhapsody’s visits she had grown quite fond of all of them, even Vincane, who vexed her more than any child she had ever met.

Rhapsody had taken to them as well. Most had been found in dire circumstances, as all were orphans, and she tried to spend at least a few days helping them get comfortable in the forest before she and Achmed left to find the others. It would have been impossible to locate them without his ability to find the blood from the old world, Rhapsody had told Oelendra, and she was right; aside from whatever unseen signature Achmed was aware of, and the occasionally feral look that came into their eyes, they were indistinguishable from other children.

Rhapsody clicked to the horse and the mare walked forward, seeming tired and in need of water. A nanny goat, hidden from sight by the horse, was tied to the saddle and followed behind. Oelendra could see the Singer’s smile brighten as she noticed her standing there. Rhapsody began untying something from around her belt as Oelendra came alongside her.

“I’m glad you’re back; it took longer than we had expected.”

“The weather held me up in Zafhiel. The snowstorm was worse than the one in the Hintervold when we got Anya and Mikita. Did that salve heal their frostbite?”

“Aye, they’re much better.”

“And Aric?”

“He’s still having some trouble with his leg,” Oelendra answered as Rhapsody pulled her sword and scabbard loose from her belt with one hand. “Otherwise, he’s fine.”

“I’ll take a look at it this afternoon, when things settle down. I thought of something else to try on it a day or so ago. And now that we have at least a piece of his real name we may be able to heal it altogether.”

“Marl has stopped stealing food; I believe the ready availability of it has removed his need to do so. And Ellis made something for you.” The Lirin warrior watched her friend’s face as she heard about the children; it was glowing with delight.

Rhapsody held the sword away from the mare. “Here, Oelendra,” she said, passing Daystar Clarion to her in its sheath. “Guard this for me, will you? If I die alone inside Sorbold in the attempt to steal a prized gladiator, I don’t want it to fall into their hands. It might bring war onto Tyrian.”

Oelendra watched her for a moment, then nodded. She seemed to hesitate for a moment, then reached for Daystar Clarion.

Rhapsody put the sword in her mentor’s palm. “I had best give it to you now, or I may forget; it’s become an unconscious extension of me.”

“Tis as it should be.” Oelendra took the scabbard and slid it through her belt, gave the mare a gentle pat to steady her, then reached out her arms to the child. He pulled back, a look of alarm on his brown face, and clung to Rhapsody.

The Singer leaned forward and spoke softly to the boy, speaking in the dialect of the far western provinces. “It’s all right, Jecen. This is Oelendra; she’s my friend, and she’s very nice. She’ll help you down; don’t be afraid.” The fear in the child’s dark eyes dissipated under the warmth of her smile, and he turned to Oelendra and extended chubby arms.

“What a nice little man. You must be hungry,” the gray-haired woman said, shifting him to her hip and taking the saddlebag Rhapsody held out to her. “Noonmeal is almost ready. Can you make it down with the baby, Rhapsody?”

“Yes,” Rhapsody replied, cradling die infant in her left arm and holding on to the saddle with her right. She swung down off the horse and slung her pack over one shoulder as one of the Lirin guards took hold of die reins and

.—bridle again. “Thank you,” she said to the man, receiving a giddy stare in return. She ran her hand up the mare’s chestnut brow. “Good girl,” she said softly. “Go get some lunch and a nap. You deserve it.” The mare whinnied as if she agreed. Rhapsody patted the nanny goat’s head and scratched its ears before the animals were led away.

“Let us see this little one,” Oelendra said, peering into the baby’s face. Wrapped in the leather bunting was the singularly ugliest Lirin newborn Oelendra ever remembered seeing, but Rhapsody was beaming down at it with a tender look that transformed her face into something radiantly maternal.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” she cooed. “She’s been so patient on this long trip. You’re going to love this one, Oelendra. She’s so good.” Oelendra couldn’t help but smile.

The guards led the horse away, and the two women carried the children toward Oelendra’s quarters, Oelendra feeding Jecen some of the kiran berries she carried in her pocket. “Any problems on the trip?” she asked as the child gobbled the fruit in her hand and then proceeded to raid her pockets.

“Not unless you count this little one constantly trying to nurse,” Rhapsody laughed. “I suppose that’s one of the reasons I like her so much; she’s the first person in the world who thought I had something of substance under my camisole.”

Oelendra smiled again. “Somehow I doubt that.”

“I wish I could have accommodated her, poor baby. I got used to riding with the two of them, the nanny, and a waterskin full of clarified goat’s milk sticking out of my shirt. Thankfully no one stopped me.” Oelendra began to laugh, and opened the flap of the shelter for them to enter.

At the opening they met Quan Li, the oldest of the children Rhapsody had brought to Oelendra. The Singer’s face lit up as she saw the girl. They embraced, and Rhapsody brushed a quick kiss on the side of her head. “How are you, Quan Li?” she asked as Oelendra lowered Jecen to the ground. Rhapsody took his hand and transferred it to the girl. “This is Jecen, and he’s very hungry. Do you think you could take him inside and set him a place for noonmeal? Go with Quan Li, Jecen. I’ll be right in; I want to speak with Oelendra for a moment.” Jecen waved as he was led away, and she waved back.

The women waited until the children were inside the shelter, then walked a few feet away. “How was the birth?” Oelendra asked, running her hand gently over the baby’s pointed head.

“If Fate is kind I will never will have to witness anything like that again,” Rhapsody said, paling at the memory. “I tried to ease the mother’s suffering as best I knew how, but it was all I could do just to deliver her baby and keep the mother alive long enough to get to hold her.” She drew the infant to her cheek and kissed her. “I shudder to imagine what the others have been like, without a healer there to help. They probably didn’t even get to see their children. It makes me ill to think about it.” Her eyes grew misty, and Oelendra put an arm around her shoulder.

“Well, at least ’twas the last one,” she said.

“Not quite,” Rhapsody corrected grimly. “I still have to go get the eldest. With any luck Llauron will have some good ideas about that one. Achmed has gone back to Ylorc already, and I’m not looking forward to going in without him. His help was invaluable in getting the first nine.”

“If you have the right reinforcements, you’ll be fine,” said Oelendra. “Sorbold gladiators are dangerous in the ring and one-on-one, but they are unaccustomed to fighting multiple adversaries. Just make sure you don’t go in alone. And remember, if you get into an untenable situation, kill him. Tis all very well and good to want to save him, but ’tis not worth your life.”

“No, it’s not,” Rhapsody agreed. The baby stretched and yawned, eliciting a delighted response from both women.

“You’re right about her,” Oelendra said. “She’s beautiful.”

“She’s a fighter,” Rhapsody said fondly. “She really did come through an unspeakable nightmare. I wish you could have seen her mother’s face as she held her. She couldn’t speak, but—” Her voice broke, and she bowed her head. When she looked up again, her expression was grim. “This demon really has given me motive to rip his heart out,” she said, without emotion. “It will be returning the favor.”

“Let your hatred pass; he will use it against you,” Oelendra said. She ran her long fingers through the baby’s black hair. “Your reason for destroying him should be this child’s future, not her past. If you keep that fixed in your mind, you will do it because ’tis the right thing to do, not out of revenge. There is more power in the former than the latter. ’Tis something I cannot do; my hatred is too entrenched, but you, Rhapsody, you have the chance to set things right. Don’t let the atrocity of his actions ruin your focus.”

“When you talk like that, you sound just like my mother did,” Rhapsody said, smiling. “I often wonder if the two of you were related.”

“She and I have some things in common,” Oelendra said, returning her smile. “Now, what are we going to name this little one?” She watched the scowl on the infant’s face deepen as her lips protruded in her sleep, making suckling motions.

“There she goes again,” Rhapsody laughed. “Some funny things come to mind, but I think I’d like to call her Aria.” She caressed the baby’s tiny hand, the memory of Ashe rising up in her heart. She felt the loss of him acutely, each time she was reminded of how things would never be the same, like the way she would never hear him call her by that name again. She thought about the future that was coming closer every day, a future that he would not be a part of, and she ran her finger over the tiny knuckles, thinking that these children might be some consolation when it finally came to pass.

Oelendra had her own memory of the name. “Perfect,” she said softly, thinking back on it.

“My first gift to her was a song, the song that gave her mother a few moments with her,” Rhapsody said, blinking back tears. “If it’s not too presumptuous, someday I’d like to give each child in Tyrian the same gift; a song that is theirs and theirs alone. Maybe even before they’re born, and then it can be their first lullaby. Do you think that’s silly?”

“No,” said Oelendra, smiling fondly at her. “In Serendair the queen I served did something very similar, but with a different kind of gift. You would be perpetuating a fine tradition. Come on, let’s go see the others, I know they’re waiting eagerly for you.” She pulled the tent flap back again for Rhapsody to enter, hearing the chorus of excited greetings as the children swarmed around her, all talking at once. She watched the Singer’s face glow with delight as she bent down to hug them and show them the baby, knowing that it would not be the only tradition of the Seren queen’s that Rhapsody would one day repeat.

“You’re off to Llauron’s, then?” Oelendra asked as she put the sleeping infant into the cradle. She covered her with a spun-wool blanket and gave her back a gentle rub before sitting down in her chair.

Rhapsody nodded. She was rocking two of the smallest children in the willow chair before Oelendra’s hearth, the firelight playing off her face. “He knows more about Sorboldian culture than anyone I know. Even though that country lies on Achmed’s border, he doesn’t have much knowledge of it.”

“Mountains do have a way of keeping information out, along with enemies,” Oelendra said. “Are you certain you can trust Llauron in this?”

“Are you saying I shouldn’t?”

“No.” The Lirin champion picked up her mug of spiced mead and lifted it to her lips. After she had swallowed, she looked back to find Rhapsody’s emerald eyes fixed on her, reflecting the flickering firelight. “Do you remember the Kinsman call I taught you when you first came to me for training?”

Rhapsody nodded, but her gaze did not wane. “Yes. By the Star, I will wait, I will watch, I will call and will be beard.” Oelendra nodded. “I was on horseback, preparing to leave for Sepulvarta to defend the Patriarch, so I do not recall much beyond that. What does it have to do with Llauron?”

“It has nothing to do with Llauron; we’ll get back to him in a moment. It’s important that you remember the call. You said you heard a whispering sound in your ear that night in Sepulvarta when you stood vigil and fought for the Patriarch?”

“Yes.”

The older woman’s face took on the glow of the firelight. “I believe you are a Kinsman now yourself, Rhapsody. In the old land, the Kinsmen were a brotherhood of warriors, masters of the craft of fighting, dedicated to the wind and the star you were born beneath. They were accepted into the brotherhood for two things: incredible skill forged over a lifetime of soldiering, and a selfless act of service to others, protecting an innocent at the threat of one’s own life. I believe your protection of the Patriarch from the Rakshas in the basilica that night vested you as one of the order.”

“But that was in the old world,” Rhapsody said, nuzzling Jecen’s neck. The child sighed in his sleep. “Are there any Kinsmen still alive? Is the brotherhood still in existence?”

“I have never met one in this new land,” Oelendra answered, rocking Aria’s cradle gently. “I know not if the brotherhood still exists. But if it does, a Kinsman who hears you will always answer your cry for help on the wind if you are one yourself. Just as you must answer if you should hear the call.”

-

“I will,” Rhapsody promised. “Now, please, can we go back to Llauron? What is your concern? Achmed has long suspected he might be the host of the F’dor. Do you think so as well?”

“Nay,” said Oelendra shortly. There was a finality to her tone that made Rhapsody look away into the fire. Oelendra was silent for a moment, studying her face. “Are you worried Llauron might tell Gwydion—er, Ashe—about the children?”

“Not really,” Rhapsody answered, kissing the slumbering heads. “Llauron isn’t above withholding things from his son if he thinks they might keep him from his assigned tasks. You should see the letters he sent me in Ylorc, politely accusing me of not spending enough time accomplishing the Cymrian reunification. Once Ashe told him about the two of us, they became even worse, demanding to know if I had something to do with the fact his son wasn’t around much anymore. All written in obscure dialects of Ancient Serenne and couched in code. Besides, the only reason I didn’t tell Ashe about the children yet is because I don’t want to hurt him. He will be devastated when he realizes the acts his soul witnessed resulted in this situation. He’ll think it’s his fault.”

Oelendra was staring into the fire. “No, ’tis certainly not his fault,” she said distantly. Rhapsody looked at her, waiting for her to elaborate, but she did not.

“You know, given how diverse these children are, it’s surprising that one of them doesn’t have copper-colored hair.”

“Why would they?” Oelendra asked, snapping out of her musings. “The Rakshas may have looked like Gwydion, but its blood was that of the F’dor. There is no blood tie there.”

“I know; but it will still feel that way to Ashe,” Rhapsody said, caressing Mikita as she whimpered in her sleep. “The fragment of his soul that gave power to the Rakshas witnessed many unspeakable things, and Ashe has fragments of those memories. Beyond the logic of reason he feels some guilt, some complicity for those acts. I’m glad none of them resemble him in any way.”

“Well, the dragon in him will know they’re not his,” said Oelendra. “Speaking of Ashe, where be he now?”

“I have no idea,” Rhapsody said, still rocking. “He was headed south of the Krevensfield Plain when we parted; I think there was a flare-up of hostility between a human outpost and the Sorbold watchguards there. We made plans to meet in Bethany at the Lord Roland’s wedding; maybe I’ll see him there. Who knows?”

“Strange,” Oelendra commented.

“Yes, well, it’s all strange. Hopefully it will be over soon.”

“I was referring to your face when you said you had no idea about Ashe. You miss him, do you not?”

“Yes. Why?”

“You don’t show it.”

Rhapsody sighed. “I knew all along he could never be mine, Oelendra. It was what you said about Pendaris and you that gave me the ability to love him at all. I guess in our short time together, we loved a lifetime’s worth, too.”

Oelendra smiled. “The difference, Rhapsody, is that you’re both still alive. Don’t ever assess a lifetime’s worth until it’s done.” The fire crackled in agreement, and the two women sat before it in companionable silence until it burned down to coals in the darkness of the cabin.