Prophecy: Child of Earth

13

Rhapsody was like a child with a secret. She glowed for days following her visit with the dragon, though she was hard pressed to explain why. Ashe had the impression she would have been forthcoming if she had been able, but that she was having trouble articulating what she had seen and felt in the cave.

As a result, the tone of their walk was vastly more cheerful than it had been recently, despite all the rain and mud they were now braving. She seemed to have forgiven him for his poor judgment at the Tar’afel, and alternately joked with him outrageously or walked in a comfortable silence that was brimming with excitement just below the surface. It was an heightened state that fascinated his dragon nature, causing it to become even more obsessed with her, as the human side was doing as well.

Occasionally, when they would stop for a meal or when sitting around their fire at night he would find her looking at him thoughtfully, as though she were trying to place the features she had glimpsed inside the darkness of his hood from memory. When she became aware that he was noticing this she would smile at him. Even though the smile she gave him was the same one he had seen her use naturally on other friends or acquaintances, he felt somehow that there was a special element to it that made it his alone, that was reserved for him. The effect it had on him made him glad of his near-invisibility.

After three days of traveling, through even more rain and mud, they came to a clearing. In the distance Rhapsody could hear the sound of falling water, but for some reason the direction was not easy to determine. She was convinced after a few minutes that they had been traveling in circles, and became sure of it the third time they passed the same filbert bush. She stopped in the middle of the forest path.

“Are we lost?”

“No.”

“Then why are you leading me in circles?”

Ashe sighed, and Rhapsody thought she heard a smile in his voice. “I forgot for a moment that you are Lirin. Anyone else would not have been able to tell.”

“Well?” There was a hint of annoyance in her voice.

He was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry. I will explain when we get to our shelter.”

“Shelter?”

“Yes, there is a place here I thought we might camp for the night, a place we can both have a bath and at least one of us can actually sleep in a bed tonight. Both, if you’re willing.” The teasing tone was back.

“But it’s a place you don’t want me to be able to find again.”

Ashe sighed again. “Yes.”

Rhapsody sighed as well. “Would it help if I closed my eyes?”

He laughed. “That’s not necessary. Come, I’ll show you where it is.”

The noise of the water grew louder as they entered a grove of ash and flowering crabapple trees, the latter just beginning to bloom. Rhapsody was enchanted. She held aside a heavy branch and walked into the grove, turning slowly around as her eyes took in the delicate pink and white blossoms and the pale green of the new spring bark. The afternoon sun broke through the forest canopy, streaking the glen with shafts of light so heavy that she put out her hands, trying to catch it. The forest air was sweet, rich with the scent of recent rain.

“What a beautiful place,” she murmured. “I’m not surprised you’d want to keep it to yourself.”

Ashe smiled; she could hear it in his voice. “I don’t,” he said. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

“I’m not sure,” Rhapsody answered, still looking around. “I might be dreaming.”

“I don’t think so,” said Ashe. “I’ve witnessed your dreams, and I doubt they look anything like this.” Rhapsody winced. He was right, of course, but the reminder of how disturbing her night terrors were to other people flushed her with embarrassment. She resolved to try and sleep as far away from him as she could that night.

They went deeper into the glen, and the birdsong became louder, competing with the splashing noise of the water she had heard. Finally in the distance she caught a glimpse of a waterfall. It staggered down a hidden hillside in four different drops. The stream that made it ran in front of a deep gorge; it was gaining power as the rains that fed it swelled with the advent of spring.

“Let me see your boots,” Ashe directed. Rhapsody bent her knee and held up the sole of one. He nodded, seeming satisfied. “You’ll have to take my hand on this one, Rhapsody. The gorge is steep and the shale around the waterfall is extremely slippery. You don’t have a rough enough sole to maintain any purchase here. If you give me your hand I promise not to pick you up if I can avoid it.”

His tone was light, but Rhapsody knew his intent was serious; he was keeping his promise.

“What do you know about the roughness or smoothness of my soul?” she joked. “Are you the All-God now, too?”

Ashe laughed. She gave him her hand, noticing that he glanced at her wrist, as he always did whenever their hands were joined.

He led her into the water. “I’ve been accused of being many things, but that was never one of them.” They forded the stream, slipping only once. Rhapsody was glad to have his weight supporting her when she looked down over the second drop to the gorge below. He navigated them across the waterway and over to the other bank, where scrub and leafy vegetation flanked the rockwall of the hill. He held a large branch aside for her and stood back, letting her pass.

Rhapsody found herself in a hidden part of the glen, a place more dark than light. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust and when they did, she realized that there was a small hut there. It was made of stone and the roof seemed to be made of turf. The flora of the forest grew in and around it, making it difficult to see. It was free from any adornment, and had but one window and door. It was situated on the side of a large pool formed by backflow from the waterfall.

“Is this where we’re staying?”

“Yes. Is that all right?”

“I think it’s wonderful,” Rhapsody said, smiling up at him. “I never would have known it was here.”

“That’s the whole point,” Ashe said agreeably, taking her hand again and leading her over to the hut. “This is the only place in the world I can shed my cloak and be as a normal person, or at least the only place on land. I don’t wear it when I’m at sea, either.”

Rhapsody puzzled about his statement. If the mist from his cloak hid his vibrational signature so that he could not be detected, then it must be the water that occluded him from the sight of whatever power that could find him. She recalled Achmed mentioning something similar in his vibrational makeup when they had first traveled to Elysian. Things began to clarify in her mind; it was no wonder Achmed was uncomfortable around Ashe. Unlike the other people in the world, Ashe would not register on Achmed’s vibrational senses. The churning of the waterfall must have the same effect, along with being hidden against the gorge. Then a thought occurred to her.

“No, it’s not the only place,” she said excitedly. “You would be safe to take off your cloak in my house, too.”

Ashe shuddered visibly. “In the Cauldron? No, thank you.”

Rhapsody shoved him playfully. “My house is not in the Cauldron,” she said. “And it is even harder to find than this place, I’ll wager.”

“Really.” Ashe’s tone was noncommittal. He opened the door and held it for a moment, to allow the breeze from the forest to clear the air of the hut. Rhapsody looked inside.

It was a small room, with a single rumpled bed and a tiny fireplace. It had one doorless closet, separated from the room by a ragged curtain, which seemed empty of its contents, largely because they were scattered messily on the floor. Dishes were left on every horizontal surface, as well as socks and undergarments, one set of which hung from the coatrack, unwashed. Rhapsody’s eyes looked around at the disarray, astonished at the slovenly place.

“Gods. This is your room?” she asked in disbelief. “How do you fit in here?”

“Easily, for your information,” said Ashe defensively, but with a chuckle in his voice. “It’s just the right size for one person, and perhaps a nonjudgmental guest. All others can sleep outside, thank you.”

Rhapsody pushed him aside and went in. There was no decoration to the place; it was completely without ornament, unless the filth counted. In addition to the bed there was a small table and an old, dilapidated chair with hideous upholstery, now worn to the nap. The smell of the dirty laundry was unpleasant.

“Well? What do you think?”

“I think what this place needs is a woman’s oversight—or a maid.”

Ashe laughed. “You are welcome to provide either service if you’d like.”

“I’ve worked as a maid. There’s no shame in it.”

“Certainly not,” he said. “I don’t think there would be shame in anything you’d do.” Rhapsody colored but said nothing. Shows how little you know, she thought to herself.

“On second thought, perhaps a flood would be more warranted.”

“I can arrange that, too.” He touched the hilt of the water sword. “Well, are you going to stay? It’ll cost you.”

Rhapsody turned to face him. “Oh? What’s the price?”

“An answer.”

“What’s the question?”

“There are two.”

“Go ahead.” Rhapsody folded her arms.

“Are you Cymrian, and if so, what generation? You said you don’t lie, so I know whatever you say will be accurate.”

Rhapsody lowered her head, considering. “All right, I have the answer to your question. Your first one, that is: the answer is no, I’m not going to stay.” She walked toward the door where he was still standing. Ashe put his hands out in front of him.

“Wait. I was just joking.”

“No, you weren’t. Stand aside.”

“I apologize,” he said as he stepped out of her way. He knew better than to try and block her exit. He watched as she walked to the pool and sat down beside it, pulling her pack from her shoulders.

“No need to. I’ll be perfectly happy here.” She took out her bedroll and began unrolling it.

He bent down beside her. “But I won’t be. Rhapsody, you are the first person I have ever shown this place. I brought you all the way here so that we might both get some real rest before you head off to Tynan. I’m tired of sleeping outside; I do it all the time, and I want one night’s rest in my bed. I know the place may not seem like much, but it’s the only place I have. Please come inside. I’m sorry about the mess and the stupidity. You don’t have to answer any questions, and I’ll stop bothering you about whether or not you’re Cymrian; I promise. Besides, part of our arrangement is that one watches while the other sleeps, and I can’t very well do that if I’m inside while you’re out here. It would be a dereliction of my duty as your guide. So please, come back in.”

Rhapsody looked up at the cloaked figure beside her. His voice had a desperation to it that she didn’t understand, and she felt sorry for him, this exhausted wanderer who was constantly on the move, hiding from the eyes of his stalkers. She felt ashamed for her lack of gratitude, after all he had done for her, putting his life and his relationship in abeyance to escort her here. She heard again the melodious, sensible voice of the dragon.

The man outside, he wanted to know if you are Cymrian, yes?

Yes.

Tou may as well tell him, Pretty. He already knows. It is obvious.

She stood up and brushed the dirt off her garments, then picked up her gear. “I’ll make a bargain with you, Ashe,” she said, slinging her pack over her shoulder again. “I will tell you the answers to your questions.”

“No, I had no right—”

“Let me finish. I will answer either question you put to me, or both, as long as you answer the same question about yourself first. Do we have a bargain?”

He thought for a moment. “Yes.”

“All right, then, let’s go inside.”

Sorry about the mess.”

“Don’t be,” said Rhapsody. “First off, it’s your room, you’re entitled to keep it in any manner you choose. Second, this is neat as a pin compared to Jo’s.”

Ashe laughed. “She must live in a trash heap.”

“Yes, she does, but she lived much of her life on a real one before I met her, so I try not to bother her about it, no matter how much I dislike untidiness. I’m afraid fanatical housekeeping is part of my upbringing.”

He nodded. Rhapsody went to the chair and picked up the dirty woolen socks lying there; she folded them and sat down, depositing them in her lap.

“Here, let me take those,” said Ashe hastily. “You don’t need to hold them.” He dropped them into an empty basket in the closet.

“Aren’t you going to take off the cloak?” Rhapsody asked. “You must be dying to get out of it.”

Ashe pulled back the hood, leaving the cloak in place, and sat down on the bed. She took in a breath when she saw his face again; it was strange seeing it again. From across the small room she could not see the strange pupils in his eyes, but the metallic sheen to his hair was as startling as it had been when he first revealed himself to her. He seemed to notice her staring at him, and looked uncomfortable.

“So,” he began uneasily, “are you Cymrian?”

“You first.”

“Yes.”

“Well,” she said, “you already know, but yes, I am.”

“Achmed and Grunthor, too?”

“I can’t speak for them without their permission,” she said regretfully. “You’ll have to draw your own conclusions.”

Ashe nodded. “What generation?” When she looked at him askance, he smiled. “On my father’s side, third. On my mother’s, it’s so far removed that it’s hardly worth mentioning.”

“Explain this to me again,” Rhapsody said. “First Generation Cymrians were born in the old world; their children, born here, are Second Generation?”

“Yes.”

“What if someone was Seren, lived in Serendair, but didn’t sail with the Fleets?”

Ashe, who was watching her face intently, blinked, and his face went suddenly blank. “And survived the cataclysm?”

“Obviously, or there wouldn’t be a reason to discuss it, would there?”

Ashe nodded. “No, there wouldn’t. Of course, how stupid of me. This happened to a great many people, in fact, if my historical studies are accurate. Not everyone who evacuated Serendair wanted to go with Gwylliam; a lot of them thought he was insane, or that the journey would be too much for them, particularly the races that were not inclined to sea travel. They left prior to the sailing of the Three Fleets, and went to other places, land masses closer to the Island.”

Rhapsody rose and pulled the cloak from her shoulders. “So, would they be considered Cymrians?”

The searing blue eyes trained even more intensely on her, the vertical slits expanding in the darkness of the room, soaking in her answers as if they were sunlight.

“Yes,” he said thoughtfully. “Even though they didn’t greet the indigenous population with Gwylliam’s aphorism, I think a native Seren who left Serendair prior to the cataclysm would still qualify as a Cymrian. The members of the Second Fleet never did, either; they landed in Manosse or Gaematria, and didn’t set foot on this continent until many generations later, when the first Cymrian Council was called. And they are Cymrians; they felt the call of the Council horn deep in their souls when it was winded, were compelled to answer, to come to the Moot. Yes; I think anyone who once lived in Serendair and left would be a First Generation Cymrian.”

Rhapsody turned away from him and hung her cloak on the peg near the door so he would not see how hard she swallowed. “I guess that makes me a First Generation Cymrian, then,” she said, smoothing out the mantle’s folds, brushing the dirt from them. Then she turned and looked back at Ashe. She studied his face, but no gleam of victory came into his eyes, just the fragment of a smile.

“How did you survive? Where did you go? It must have been somewhere you could get to by rowboat or ferry, since you said you never sailed on any other kind of ship. How did you come to be here, half a world away?”

“That’s more than two questions,” said Rhapsody hastily. The memory of her endless sojourn through the bowels of the Earth reared its head; she shook her own to banish the sensation of crawling along the Axis Mundi, still hovering close to the surface of her consciousness. It was a struggle not to think about it, and when she did, she felt despair she could not easily overcome. “Besides, I thought we agreed we would try to avoid talking about the Past as much as possible.”

“I’m sorry,” Ashe said quickly. “You’re right, of course. Thank you for telling me what you have.”

Rhapsody eyed him uneasily. “You’re welcome. So now that you’ve extracted this information from me, what are you going to do?”

Ashe stood up. “Bathe.”

Rhapsody stared at him again. “That’s it? You’ve been nagging me the entire length of this trip to know this answer, and you’re going to bathe?”

“Yes,” Ashe answered with a laugh. “In case you haven’t noticed, while you have taken advantage of every sheltered spot in the river and each secluded pond to swim yourself clean, I have had to make do with the mist from the cloak; hardly fair, and certainly not conducive to us sharing a small room tonight. So if you will excuse me, I’ll be going now.” Rhapsody watched in amazement as he picked up a scrap of woven cloth from the floor that may have, in less ratty days, been a towel, and walked out the door, whistling.

Ashe had just finished lacing his trousers when the door of the cottage opened and a hailstorm of dirt and debris flew out. Rhapsody had apparently found a large branch to use as a broom and was sweeping his room with a furor that rivaled a windstorm. She emerged for a moment; their eyes met, and she gasped. She was staring at his chest.

Commencing at his navel and extending to his left shoulder was a hideous wound, black and twisted, festering red in the light of the glen. The enormous gash seemed to be an old one, but one that had never healed; it was raw and open, with burned flesh blistered beneath charred skin. Blue veins spread radially across his chest, forming a starlike shape above his heart. The sight of it was enough to bring tears to Rhapsody’s eyes.

Customarily I’d cut your heart out, although it’s fairly obvious someone already has.

Ashe turned quickly away and pulled his shirt over his head. When he turned back she was gone. He ran his hands through his now-clean hair and waited for her to reappear, but she didn’t. Finally he decided to break the awkward silence.

“Rhapsody?”

She reappeared at the door. “Yes?”

He pointed at the backflow pool of the waterfall. “I’ve dammed a spot in the pool to make a little lagoon, if you want to use it.”

H

Her face brightened. “Perfect! Thank you. I’ll be right out.” She vanished into the hut, emerging a moment later with a full basket of clothes. He stared in dismay; they were his.

“What are you doing?”

“Laundry.” She went to the small pool that he had made for her to bathe in and dropped the clothes, garment by garment, into it, followed by a bar of hard soap. A pair of soiled pants, a shirt with an immense grease stain and several sets of dirty undergarments fell into the water, to his intense embarrassment. He strode around the shore and reached for the basket.

“Here, give that to me. I’ll do it.”

Rhapsody’s eyes twinkled. “Nonsense! You offered me the position of maid, and I accepted, for today at least. It’s my way of paying for your services as my guide. Laundry comes with the territory. In fact, if you want to strip out of those, I’ll wash them, too.” She pointed to the clothes he was currently wearing and picked up a stick.

“No, thank you.”

“You may as well take advantage of the service while you can. Once our account is squared, you’ll be washing your own clothes and sweeping out your own hovel—er, house.” The water in the lagoon began to bubble, steam emerging in the cool air of early spring. She had used her fire lore to boil the laundry and now stirred it along with the soap, creating a lather in the lagoon that washed out among the rocks, avoiding the waterfall itself.

When the clothes were done Rhapsody pulled them from the water, suddenly cool enough to touch, and hung them on the rope line she had strung in between the trees of the glade. Ashe went to each garment and touched it, removing the excess water instantly.

“Are you going to bathe?” he asked.

Rhapsody looked up through the canopy of trees at the patches of sky. The clouds were thickening and beginning to grow gray. “I don’t think so. It looks like rain.”

Ashe looked at the sky as well. “You’re right. Let’s get inside.”

They snatched the laundry, hurried into the hut and shut the door just as the raindrops began to pelt the roof. Ashe stopped in amazement. His room was tidy and scrubbed, cleaner than it had ever been. The bed was made, the floor swept, and a pot of tea had been set to steep on the table, which had been washed and polished.

“How did you do all this in such a short time?”

“Experience.”

“I see. Well, this wasn’t necessary. Thank you.”

Rhapsody smiled at him from the doorway. “It’s part of my job as maid. We provide some of the services you would get without cost if you were married.” Her words choked off almost as soon as they had left her lips. She was still not sure that he wasn’t.

Ashe laughed. “If that’s the case, there are some others I would far rather have.” His eyes twinkled merrily.

“Sorry,” said Rhapsody, taking the laundry he held and dropping it on the bed. “This is just a temporary arrangement until my debt to you is paid off. Basic housekeeping. Other services cost extra, and there are some things you just can’t afford.”

Ashe turned away, smiling. “There are some things worth begging, borrowing, or stealing for, too.”

She laid the laundry across the bed and began to fold it. “Yes, but I hardly think that’s one of them.”

Ashe picked up a cambric shirt from the bed and took it to the closet where he hung it on a peg. “I doubt you even know which one I’m talking about, Rhapsody.”

Rhapsody picked up her pack from the floor and opened it. She began rearranging items in preparation for repacking her clean handkerchiefs and the clothes she had washed with Ashe’s laundry. “I can guess,” she said dryly.

“You might be wrong,” said Ashe humorously. “Why don’t you hazard a guess. What wifely service might I like you to provide?”

She removed a series of pouches from the bottom of the satchel. “I don’t want to guess. Why don’t you tell me, and I’ll try not to belt you if I’m not offended.”

Ashe picked up his leather gloves and pulled them back on. He sat down in the threadbare chair and put his feet up, enjoying the prospect of making mischief with her. “All right.” He looked her up and down as she continued to ignore him, sorting through her supplies. Child rearing, he thought.

“There’s a town that’s part of the southern Nonaligned region called Gallo. Men use their wives as shields when they enter into battle. The women walk before them to absorb the arrow shots.” He waited for the eruption, but she said nothing. He tried again. “In addition, when they are trading horses, if one needs to somehow make up the difference in the value of a—” He stopped when he saw her looking down at her hand in amazement. “What’s the matter?”

“Look at this,” she said, her voice filled with wonder. Ashe stood up and came over to where she stood. She was holding the dragon’s claw dagger she had returned to Elynsynos. “I gave this back to her.”

“Obviously she wants you to have it.”

“I suppose. I wonder how she got it in here without my noticing.”

Ashe smiled at her. “Never underestimate the determination of a dragon when it comes to something it loves, Rhapsody. It will always find a way to get what it wants.” He put his folded laundry in the closet and went out into the rain.