Destiny: Child of the Sky

39

The sound of merry shrieking filled the sleepy glen. Rhapsody smiled as the children charged her, swarming like excited bees, clamoring for her attention and talking excitedly all at once. She put her hands over her ears.

“Goodness, calm yourselves,” she said, laughing. “I’ll go deaf.” She closed the door of her hut behind her and walked out into the light of late morning, dressed in her clothes for playing with them and carrying a burlap sack. Eight of the children were there, with the eldest and youngest absent. Her goal today was to learn more about their individual needs for education, both physical and intellectual. To that end she had been up most of the night making toys to test their agility. They were playthings of Lirin design, known to the Liringlas as anklesingers. She took one out of the pack now.

“Here, I have something for you.” Rhapsody held out the anklesinger and the children crowded around, eager to examine it. It was crudely made, but smooth, and delighted voices rang through the forest as it was passed from child to child.

“How does it work, Rhapsody?”

“Give it to me and I’ll show you.” She took it back and held it up for them to see. It consisted of two wooden rings joined by a length of twine, one of which was hollow and pierced by small holes. Rhapsody sat on the grass and extended a leg, slipping her ankle through the solid ring. Then she stood.

“All right, move back, lads and lasses, and I’ll give it a try. I haven’t done this since I was little.”

“You still are little,” said Vincane. Now that he was within the realm of the Rowans he had lost much of the sharp look and streetwise nature that had made him such an adversary in the world beyond the Veil of Hoen. Now he just appeared to be a boy on the threshold of adolescence, taller than she and full-bodied; Rhapsody laughed at the look of insolent mischief on his face.

“Very well, I haven’t done this since I was young. And Vincane, don’t confuse ‘big’ with ‘tough.’ If you want, I’ll show you what I mean later. We can go another round as we did in the tile foundry, if you’d like.”

“No, thank you,” said the boy hastily. Rhapsody smiled; she knew he had hidden and watched her training that morning.

“This is how it works,” she said. She hopped over the string and swung the ring around her ankle in a circular motion, jumping over the twine each time it came around. After a few rotations it was humming smoothly around her foot, and she was leaping over the cord with each pass. The second ring began to vibrate, then whistle, finally producing a clear, sweet tone. The children laughed and clapped, clamoring for a turn.

“Here, don’t grab, I have one for each of you.” Rhapsody let the ankle-singer come to a halt. She pulled it from her foot and handed it to Jecen, who squealed in glee. Rhapsody turned and went back to the burlap sack, bringing out a handful of the toys. She dispensed them to the clutching hands and stepped back, watching in interest as the children put them on and tried to make them work. Some were more nimble than others, and it was a good measure of their agility; Rhapsody made note of each child’s ability, devising a mental plan to train the competent children and work with the more clumsy ones specially.

“You’ll find your names carved on them,” she told them when they grew tired and came to a stop. “Each one makes a different musical note, and once you get used to them you can play songs if you work together. Now, I can hear Cyndra calling you; it must be time for noonmeal.” Happy shrieking echoed through the drowsy glade again, and in a flurry of kisses and hugs the children were off, leaving Rhapsody alone, smiling and breathless.

She rose and, brushing the leaves and dirt from her trousers, walked back toward the white buildings where the children were cared for, listening for birdsong as she went. Behind some trees not far away she felt an alien vibration and concentrated on it; she recognized the signature—it was Constantin. He had been watching her with the children, and now was following close behind her.

Rhapsody did not change her pace, but continued toward the compound. She felt him adjust his path to intersect with hers, and kept walking, a strange sense of security washing over her. As she reached the edge of the woods he stepped in front of her, cutting her off from her destination.

He had recovered from the ordeal, and appeared in fit condition and good health, though somewhat thinner. The gladiator was clothed in a white cambric shirt and pants, and as he interposed his body into her path, Rhapsody stopped reluctantly.

Constantin’s arm came to rest pointedly on the tree before her, blocking her egress, and he stared down at her with a piercing look that made the small hairs on the back of her neck tingle. She returned his stare placidly, without any aggression or fear, and waited to hear what he had to say.

Moments passed, and still he did not speak, but watched her with an intense stare. At the edge of her vision Rhapsody saw a slight movement, and, turning her head, she noticed the Lord Rowan leaning against a tree, ob serving their interaction. She exhaled, relief filling her lungs. Unlike the night before, the robes he wore seemed to be of forest green, as if he had more substance than when she had first seen him. Finally she spoke.

“What is it, Constantin? What do you want?”

He glared at her a moment more, then finally spoke. “You.”

“Excuse me?”

“I should have you,” he said, his voice low but unpleasant. “You tricked me; and you owe me. I should have you.”

Rhapsody felt color rising from her neck to her face. “I’m sorry about tricking you,” she said, checking to make sure the Lord was still there. “There really was no other way; it was not my intention to lead you on.” He laughed, a sharp, ugly sound. “I needed to bring you to this place, and I’m sorry if I’ve hurt your feelings.”

His head moved closer to hers, and she could feel his breath on her neck. “Oh, you have. I am very hurt. But you can fix that, you know. You have just the right medicine for me, Rhapsody—that’s your name, isn’t it? Pretty; it suits you. You really are amazing, you know. I’m glad I never had to fight you in the arena. You come off as fragile, helpless, but you’re not, are you? You play on a man’s sympathy, but you are stronger than most, and that’s when you take advantage.”

“Stop it,” Rhapsody said, becoming annoyed.

“What’s the matter—you can swear to speak the truth but are unwilling to hear it? You lied to me, in a way. You came to my bed and made yourself available to me, dressed for seduction. You said you had been sent by Treilus, the whoremaster. What was I supposed to think?”

She looked away. “Probably just what you did.”

Even without looking at him she could feel him smile. “Good; then you agree that I came to the right conclusion.”

Rhapsody’s gaze returned to him. She thought about arguing the facts, reminding him what she had actually said, how she had only indicated she was there to massage him, but the words were too heavy to utter. Llauron had known all along what Constantin would think she was there for, and she had been foolish beyond measure to believe otherwise. She hung her head.

The gladiator bent forward until his lips were just outside her ear. “You owe me,” he said quietly. “Perhaps just once, but you owe me, and you know it. Without speaking, you promised me a night with you in my bed. Surely you will not go back on your word—a Namer? I know you are one, by the way; last night I heard you whisper my name deep in my soul, and the most wonderful feeling came over me. Would you like to guess where it was most outwardly obvious?”

She blinked but said nothing. He had undoubtedly felt her light the candle and pledge to sit vigil for him, to guard him from pain at her own expense.

The gladiator’s smile grew more confident. He reached out an enormous hand and carefully slid his index finger into her hair, drawing it down along the lock nearest her face. When he reached her cheek he caressed it with his rough fingertip.

“Come with me,” he said soothingly. “I am no longer angry; I will be gentle with you. You have nothing to fear; I won’t put it in all the way. Pay your debt, Rhapsody.” He leaned forward on the tree, his breath warming the side of her neck. “I must have you,” he said.

The Lord Rowan appeared, to her left and nearby. Both Rhapsody and Constantin looked and noted his presence, then Constantin dropped his arm and turned to leave. As he did, his lips brushed the top of her hair. “I will have you,” he whispered. “I promise.” As he walked away, Rhapsody felt her voice return. “Constantin?” He looked back at her; there was no fear in her eyes, and her face was placid again.

“You may be right,” she said directly. “But if you do, it will be only because we both want it to happen. Do you understand?”

He stared at her for a moment, then he was gone.

Rhapsody felt a warm hand touch her shoulder, and in that moment, peace such as she had never felt coursed through her, filling her with a longing to sleep.

“Are you all right, child?” the Lord Rowan asked, his voice silky as warm wine.

“Yes, m’lord,” she replied, turning to face him.

“I will speak to him.”

Rhapsody opened her mouth to explain. As she did, she felt the despair of the Future return, the hideous knowledge that she might be doomed to repeat her same mistakes eternally, watching the consequences of her actions for all Time. Exhaustion flooded her as Ashe’s words of long ago came back to her: You will never die. Imagine losing people over and over, your lovers, your spouse, your children. Rhapsody felt more tired than she ever remembered being. She looked into the stern face of the Lord Rowan, and from deep within her tears came, unbidden.

“Why do you weep?”

“It’s not important,” Rhapsody answered, looking into the black eyes. “M’lord Rowan, will you grant me a favor? Please?”

“What is it you wish?”

“Will you come for me one day? Please?”

The solemn face flickered with the hint of a smile. “Fascinating,” he murmured. “Usually I only hear prayers asking me to stay away, though you are not the first Cymrian by any means who has prayed for my assistance. You are the first one in the bloom of youth, however.”

“Please, m’lord,” Rhapsody implored. “Please say you will come for me one day.”

The Lord Rowan watched her for a moment. “I will if I can, my child. That is the only promise I can make you.”

Rhapsody smiled through her tears. “It’s enough,” she said simply. “Thank you.”