War Maid's choice

Chapter Twenty

“Well, that’s marvelous,” Master Varnaythus said sourly, leaning back in his comfortable chair in the windowless room.

Malahk Sahrdohr sat across from him, eyeing the images in the gramerhain on the desk between them with an equally sour expression. Two coursers, a red roan and a chesnut with a white star, forged steadily through the Wind Plain’s tall, blowing grass towards the Escarpment. They moved side-by-side, in the smooth, unique four-beat “trot” of their kind, moving like echoes of one another and so close together their riders could hold hands as they went.

It was all too revoltingly romantic and touching for words, Varnaythus thought, grumpily watching the loose ends of Leeana Hanathafressa’s red-gold braid dance on the breeze.

“Surely it doesn’t make much difference, in the end,” Sahrdohr said after a moment. He sounded rather more hopeful than positive, Varnaythus noted.

“I’m not prepared to say that anything ‘doesn’t make much difference’ where Bahzell is concerned.” Varnaythus’ tone was no happier than it had been, and he glowered at the younger wizard, although he couldn’t really blame any of his current lack of joy on his associate. “And it particularly bothers me that none of Them suggested anything like this might be going to happen.”

“More evidence it really isn’t going to matter,” Sahrdohr suggested with a shrug.

“Or more evidence They didn’t see it coming.”

“What?” Sahrdohr straightened in his chair, frowning. “Of course They must’ve seen it coming, if it’s one of the cusp points!”

“Why?” Varnaythus asked bluntly, and then chuckled sourly as Sahrdohr stared incredulously at him. “Don’t tell me you think They’re infallible!”

Sahrdohr’s incredulous expression segued from astonishment to apprehension to complete blankness in a heartbeat, and Varnaythus’ chuckle turned into a humorless laugh.

“Of course They’re fallible, Malahk! We wouldn’t be sitting here in Norfressa if They were in fallible, because They’d have won in Kontovar twelve hundred years ago! Of course, the other side is fallible, too, or Wencit of Rum would still be sitting in Trofrolantha.” He shrugged. “It’s a fair balance, I suppose, though I’ve never been all that fond of the concept of fair. And if either side truly was infallible, They wouldn’t need us mortals to help things along, which has worked out pretty well for me personally…so far, at least. But don’t wed yourself to the idea that They always know what They’re doing. Or that They even know what all the cusp points are. Both sides manage to hide at least some of the more critical threads from each other. That’s how They blindsided Wencit and the Ottovarans in Kontovar, but it also means the other side can blindside Them.”

It would have been hard to say whether Sahrdohr looked more unhappy or more worried by Varnaythus’ frankness, but he gave a grudging nod.

“Still,” he said after a moment, “I can’t see this leading to any fundamental advantage for them. So Bahzell’s found a lover-so what? If anything, it makes him more vulnerable, not less, especially if anything…unfortunate were to happen to Mistress Leeana. And she’s already legally out of the succession, so even if they were to have a child someday-and you know how likely that is-it won’t make any difference in the West Riding. For that matter, Bahzell’s so far down the succession from his father that it wouldn’t make any difference in Hurgrum, either!”

“Granted.” Varnaythus nodded. “And granted that it’s going to be more grist for the mill of really traditional Sothoii like Cassan and Yeraghor. In fact, it’ll be interesting to see which outrages them the most in the end. They’ve been disgusted over Leeana’s becoming a war maid in the first place, but now they get the chance to be even more disgusted and revolted by the notion of a hradani ‘polluting’ one of the most highly born Sothoii ladies imaginable. Of course, it would be more than a bit inconsistent of them to be pissed off over both those things at once, but little things like consistency never hamper your true bigot’s outrage, now do they?” He pursed his lips while he considered it for several seconds, then snorted. “Knowing Cassan, I imagine they’ll come down on the side of it’s being no better than bestiality, in the end. After all, what else could you expect out of an unnatural bitch like a war maid?”

“Ummmm.” Sahrdohr frowned thoughtfully. “You may have a point there, especially if we handle it properly-get behind it and push judiciously in the proper direction.”

“I’m perfectly willing to push all you want, but I’m not going to let myself be distracted from the main object. And if the chance comes along to kill either of them, I intend to take it.” Varnaythus showed his teeth in an expression no one would ever have mistaken for a smile. “Bahzell’s on our list anyway, and you’re right about the way this makes him more vulnerable. Champions of Tomanak should be smarter than to offer up hostages to fortune this way. And any nasty little accident which befell Mistress Leeana would have a salutary effect on Tellian, too, for that matter. Using this to foment more unhappiness among the bigots might be useful, but if she’s considerate enough to wander into our sights at an opportune moment, I’ll take the opening in a heartbeat.”

“Do you think there might be a way we could use her as bait?” Sahrdohr thought out loud. “Grab her and use her to suck Bahzell into a place and time of our choosing?”

“Oh, there might be ‘a way,’” Varnaythus said, “but I wouldn’t hold my breath looking for it, if I were you. We’re talking about a war maid. And a wind rider, now. Not exactly the easiest person in the world to capture and use for ‘bait’! Especially not when the war maid in question is as good with her hands as Mistress Leeana and the courser who’s adopted her is Walsharno’s sister. You do remember what Gayrfressa did to the shardohns who attacked her herd, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Sahrdohr replied a bit irritably. “Not even a courser is immortal, though. Arthnar’s men would’ve killed Dathgar if Bahzell and Walsharno hadn’t been there. For that matter, they could’ve gotten Walsharno if they hadn’t been so focused on Tellian! So it doesn’t really matter how dangerous Gayrfressa might be if we can get enough arrows into her first. And the same goes for Leeana, for that matter.”

“True.” Varnaythus nodded. “That’s why I’m perfectly willing to kill her if the opportunity presents itself. But trying to take her alive?” He grimaced. “ That would require getting just a bit closer to her than bow range, and I’d suggest you ask the dog brothers how many of them would be eager to take on that particular commission. Personally, I’m willing to bet none of them would. Not without a damned substantial bonus, at any rate.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “For that matter, I’m sure they remember what happened the first time they went after someone close to the Bloody Hand-and he wasn’t even a champion then! Does the name ‘Zarantha’ ring any bells with you, by any chance?”

“You’re probably right,” Sahrdohr conceded with a sigh. He frowned again, absently this time, and sat staring into space for several seconds. Then he shrugged and refocused on Varnaythus.

“I assume we do want to pass this information on to Cassan and Yeraghor as soon as we can?”

“Of course we do. Master Talthar will turn up in Toramos to discuss it with the good duke in a day or three.” Varnaythus shrugged. “I’ll even do a little of that judicious pushing we discussed, although he probably won’t need that much to throw three kinds of fit over it. Especially when I report on Tellian’s antics here in Sothofalas at the same time.”

“No, he isn’t going to be happy about that, is he?” This time Sahrdohr’s smile was almost beatific. “Particularly not with my own esteemed superior’s contribution.”

Varnaythus returned his subordinate’s smile. Sir Whalandys Shaftmaster and Sir Jerhas Macebearer had finally talked King Markhos into officially sanctioning Tellian of Balthar’s Derm Canal project. All of the Derm Canal project, including not only the Gullet Tunnel but the open challenge to the Purple Lords’ monopoly of the Spear River, as well.

Macebearer had been supportive from the outset, although his acute awareness of the potential political price had prevented him from openly and officially endorsing it. His advice to the King on the subject was hardly likely to come as a surprise to anyone, however, whereas Shaftmaster had been far more dubious initially. Unfortunately, the fact that everyone-including King Markhos-knew the Chancellor had originally cherished such powerful doubts only made his conversion into a supporter an even weightier argument in the canal’s favor.

Of course, Shaftmaster’s original reservations had stemmed from more than one factor. First and foremost, he’d doubted that such a monumental project was possible, even for dwarven engineers. As the Chancellor of the Exchequer, he’d been only too well aware of the enormous economic advantage for the entire Kingdom if it could be done, but he’d been far from convinced it could. And as the son of one of Tellian of Balthar’s lord wardens, he’d probably been even more aware of the advantages for his father’s holding of Green Cove, squarely on the most direct route from the Gullet Tunnel to Sothofalas. But he’d also been aware of the political risks inherent in endorsing it too loudly, specifically because of his family’s links to the West Riding and just how wealthy Green Cove stood to become if it succeeded. The last thing any chancellor of the exchequer needed was to be accused of using his position for personal or family profit, especially in the Kingdom of the Sothoii, where political exchanges were still known to turn into personal combat upon occasion. Quite aside from any considerations of physical survival, a chancellor whose personal honor and honesty had been brought into question would become far less effective as a minister of the Crown.

And on top of any political factors, there’d been the fact that he’d been about as thoroughly prejudiced against the hradani as anyone could have been. In fact, up until three or four years ago, he’d belonged to the court faction most concerned by the threat of a unified hradani realm, and it was no secret that he’d quietly approved of Sir Mathian Redhelm’s attempt to prevent that from happening, which had put him in direct opposition to Tellian’s actions. That had led to a certain tension between him and Sir Shandahr Shaftmaster, his father…not to mention Tellian himself. In fact, that tension was one of the things which had made him acceptable at the Exchequer (at least initially) as far as Cassan and his partisans had been concerned, and he’d frankly doubted that anyone as primitive and barbaric as hradani could possibly hold up their end of the proposed construction schedule even if the dwarves could actually design the thing in the first place.

Unfortunately, while he might have been prejudiced, he wasn’t stupid, and his attitude had shifted steadily from one of acid skepticism to one of enthusiastic support. The numbers had been too persuasive for him to ignore, and the steady-indeed, astonishing-rate at which the construction had progressed, coupled with the success of the expeditions Tellian and Bahnak had launched into the Ghoul Moor, had dealt his contempt for the hradani a death blow. He still didn’t like them-or the idea of an actual alliance with them-but he’d been forced to admit the same things which had made them formidable foes could make them equally formidable allies. Besides, he was a realist. Unlike Cassan, who might continue to dream fondly of the way the Northern Confederation must inevitably disintegrate upon Bahnak’s death, Shaftmaster recognized that Bahnak had built better than that. The Confederation was here to stay, whether he liked it or not, and since it was, he preferred to be on good terms with it and to bind its future economic interests to those of the Kingdom in any way he could. People were far less likely to attack people whose prosperity was intimately linked to their own, after all. A point, Varnaythus thought glumly, which wasn’t lost on Kilthan, Bahnak, or Tellian, either.

That realism and pragmatism of Shaftmaster’s were the reasons he’d finally come out and firmly supported Macebearer and Prince Yurokhas in urging the King to issue a formal Crown charter for the canal. And with his three most trusted and powerful advisers in agreement, it was hardly surprising Markhos had agreed. Indeed, it had taken them so long to bring him around only because he’d recognized just how thorny and sensitive the issue was with certain of his other advisers. That recognition was probably the reason he still hadn’t made his approval of the charter official; he wasn’t going to do that until the Great Council’s official fall session, when anyone who wanted to object would have to look him in the eye to do it. That sort of defiance took a hardy soul, Varnaythus thought sourly. There wasn’t likely to be a lot of it, and once he did make the charter official, the canal and all of its traffic would come under royal protection, which would assure the Crown of a tidy new source of income…and make any effort to sabotage it an act of treason.

Cassan wasn’t going to like that one little bit.

“Do you think this will finally move him off dead center on the assassination issue?” Sahrdohr asked after a moment, and Varnaythus grimaced again, even more sourly than before.

“If anything will,” he replied. “It’s been an uphill fight to get him to even consider it, though. I think part of it is that he’d genuinely convinced himself he was ‘too honorable’ a fellow to violate his oath of fealty.” The wizard rolled his eyes. “But I suspect most of it was that he was too well aware of how the Kingdom could disintegrate back into the Time of Troubles. As long as he thought he could game the situation to get what he wanted without that, he didn’t have any desire to face Tellian and the wind riders across a battlefield. He isn’t anywhere near as smart as he thinks he is, but he’s not that stupid! And he is smart enough to recognize that unless he takes some sort of drastic action-probably before the fall session, given Markhos’ intention to announce Tellian’s charter then-he’s done. There won’t be any way he can ‘game’ anything after the Crown for all intents and purposes gives Tellian its full backing. I imagine his ‘man of honor’ image will fly out the window pretty quickly as soon as he realizes that. And if it doesn’t occur to him on his own, Master Talthar will certainly find a way to point it out to him. A clever fellow, Master Talthar.”

He smiled thinly at Sahrdohr, and the younger wizard chuckled.

“So, actually, this”-he jutted his chin at the images and the gramerhain-“is more likely to work in our favor than against us.”

“Probably,” Varnaythus agreed. “I don’t plan on betting anything particularly valuable on it, though. Carnadosa knows I’ve been…unpleasantly disillusioned every other time I’ve thought Bahzell was going down or that we’d finally gained a decisive advantage! Still, at the moment I don’t see any way it’s likely to hurt us any.”

It was a somewhat less than ringing declaration of confidence, and he knew it. It was about as far as he was prepared to go, however, and he glowered down at the gramerhain for another few moments, then shrugged and passed his hand over it. The light in its heart flared once, then vanished, and he looked at Sahrdohr.

“I suppose we should start thinking about the most effective way for Master Talthar to present this unfortunate information to his good friend Duke Cassan, don’t you?”

“I’m thinking I must look a right idiot,” Bahzell Bahnakson remarked as he and Leanna rode along the eastern bank of the Balthar River. “Or so I would if it happened as anyone was watching, any road.”

He sounded remarkably unperturbed by the possibility, Leeana noted, and smiled across at him.

“I faithfully promise to turn loose of your hand and look suitably dour the instant anyone turns up,” she told him.

‹ Not that it’s going to fool anyone,› Walsharno remarked. ‹ Even a courser only has to look at the two of you to know your brains have turned into mush. Any two-foot is going to decide you need to be locked up in a nice, safe room somewhere where you can’t hurt yourselves!›

‹ And who asked your opinion?› another, less deep mental voice inquired tartly, and Bahzell chuckled. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised he was able to hear Gayrfressa now that she’d bonded with Leeana. It was unheard of-impossible! — of course, but the two of them-well, the four of them, now-had never done anything else the way they were supposed to, now had they? It seemed likely to him and to Walsharno that his own version of the coursers’ herd sense had a lot to do with it…but that neat, comforting explanation didn’t account for Leeana’s ability to hear Walsharno.

‹ You really are full of yourself, aren’t you? › Walsharno observed in a teasing tone, regarding his sister fondly. He’d deliberately taken position to her left, where she could see him with her single eye, and now he tossed his mane at her. Then he snorted profoundly. ‹ Newly bonded coursers are always full of themselves, I suppose. Why, even I was for the first, oh, twenty minutes or so.›

‹ But you got over it, I see,› Gayrfressa replied sarcastically.

“I see this is going to be a lively relationship,” Leeana said dryly, yet there was an undertone, a softness, to the words. An undertone Bahzell remembered only too well from the day a courser named Walsharno had opened his heart to one of his people’s most bitter traditional enemies.

“Never another minute of privacy will you have,” he told her, flattening his ears and grinning at her. “Natter away at the drop of a hat, they will. And there’s never a courser born as isn’t positive his brother shouldn’t be let out on his own without a keeper. I’ve little doubt Gayrfressa’s after being one more chip off the old block, when all’s said.”

‹ There must be some reason I like you so much,› Gayrfressa mused. ‹ Probably I’ll be able to remember what it was, if you give me a day or two.›

“Be nice,” Leeana said mildly. “He’s mine now, and I don’t want you picking on him without my permission.”

‹As long as you don’t go putting unreasonable restrictions on it, › Gayrfressa replied.

“I’m going to be very strict.” Leeana’s tone was much more severe than it had been. “You’re absolutely forbidden to pick on him on any day of the week that doesn’t have a letter ‘y’ in it. Is that understood?”

‹ Coursers can’t read, you know,› Walsharno pointed out.

‹ Perhaps you can’t read, Brother,› Gayrfressa said sweetly. ‹ I, however, have spent the last few winters learning to do just that.›

“Have you, now?” Bahzell looked across at her, and she turned her head to meet his gaze.

‹ Actually, Walsharno, as usual, is only partly correct,› she told him. ‹Most coursers never learn to read. For one thing, our eyes don’t seem to focus properly for it.› Bahzell felt the unspoken allusion to her lost eye behind the words, but there was no trace of self-pity, and his heart filled with fresh pride in her. ‹ Quite a few of us have, over the years, though. Of course, writing is just a bit more difficult for us!›

‹ Showoff, › Walsharno teased, nipping her very gently on the shoulder, and she snorted in amusement.

“If anyone had ever told me I might be riding along on a courser, having a conversation like this one, I would have told him he was mad,” Leeana said. She shook her head, green eyes soft. “I don’t know what I might have done to deserve it, but whatever it was, it couldn’t have been enough.”

“There’s never a wind rider I’ve met as doesn’t feel exactly the same thing, lass,” Bahzell told her. “And I’m thinking the truth is there’s nothing we could have done to be ‘deserving’ it. It’s a gift we’re given, not something as we could ever have earned.”

‹ It works both ways, Brother,› Walsharno said quietly, his mental voice very serious. ‹ The joy you take from our bond is no greater than the joy I take from it. It can’t be.›

Gayrfressa tossed her head in agreement, and Bahzell found himself nodding back to her. Leeana looked down at the big mare’s single ear, then leaned forward to Gayrfressa’s neck.

“I feel the same,” she said. “And yet I can’t help worrying about Boots.”

‹ Worrying?› Gayrfressa repeated.

“He’s not just my horse, Sister,” Leeana said slowly. “He’s my friend, too, and he has been for a long time.”

‹ And?›

“And I saw him watching from the paddock as we rode away,” Leeana said even more slowly. “Don’t misunderstand me, please, but he deserves better than for me simply to ride out of his life, even on you.”

‹ Of course he does,› Gayrfressa said, turning her head to the left until she could see her rider. ‹ Did you think I wanted you to do anything of the sort?› She shook her mane, her ear half-flattened. ‹ The lesser cousins aren’t as intelligent as we are, Sister, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t wise. And it doesn’t mean we don’t love them as much as you two-foots do, or that their hearts aren’t just as deep as ours. A courser needs less looking after than one of the lesser cousins, but I would be very angry with you if you didn’t give Boots stable space right along with me. Besides,› her tone lightened and Leeana heard a silent laugh, ‹ it will do you good to spend a little time on one of the lesser cousins on a regular basis. In fact, it’s a pity Bahzell can’t do the same. It would make him appreciate Walsharno more.›

‹ True, too true,› Walsharno agreed. ‹ Of course, it would crush the poor lesser cousin. Oh, the burdens I bear!›

“Thank you, dearheart,” Leeana said softly, patting Gayrfressa’s shoulder. “I don’t know for certain about his heart, but it would’ve broken mine to simply walk away from him.”

“Then I’m thinking it’s-”

Bahzell’s voice broke off in midsentence, and the coursers stopped in perfect unison, as someone else joined the discussion. Two someone elses, in fact.

Tomanak Orfro, God of War and Judge of Princes, appeared before them with the tall, wind-blown grass stirring about his boots. Ten feet tall, he stood-tall enough to put even coursers into perspective-with his sword across his back and his mace at his belt, but Bahzell had become accustomed to that on those occasions when he met his deity face-to-face. It was the midnight-haired woman at his side, who’d appeared as silently and effortlessly as Tomanak himself, who managed to take even Bahzell Bahnakson aback.

She was taller than any mortal woman, although still rather shorter than Tomanak, with a regal, womanly beauty, and she regarded Bahzell, Leeana, and the coursers with sapphire eyes deeper than the sea. Her gown glowed and flowed, gleaming somehow with a deep, cool silver luminance even in the bright sunlight, and a beautifully carved ivory moon hung between her rich breasts from a chain of wrought silver set with plaques of opal.

“Bahzell,” Tomanak said that in that earthquake voice that seemed to take the Wind Plain by the scruff of the neck and shake it with gentle power. Bahzell nodded back to him, and Tomanak smiled. But then the god’s smile faded.

“This is a day long awaited, my Sword,” he said.

“Is it now?” Bahzell inquired politely when Tomanak paused.

“It is. Although, like so much about you mortals, it isn’t quite what we’d expected.” The god cocked his head at Gayrfressa, who simply looked back at him, meeting his gaze with her single eye. “An interesting development, Wind Daughter,” Tomanak said to her. “But great heart knows great heart.”

“Yes, it does,” another voice agreed. It was as powerful as Tomanak’s own, that voice, but as different as wind from earth, and it sang, for it wasn’t a single voice. It was three, combined, flowing together in perfect a cappella harmony, and Bahzell suddenly wished Brandark could have been there. One of those voices was a high, sweet soprano, sparkling with youth and the joy of beginnings, yet almost cool and deeply focused. The second was deeper and richer, blurring the line between mezzo soprano and contralto, confident and strong, reaching out as if to embrace and strengthen everyone within its reach. And the third…the third was softer-sadder perhaps, or perhaps more weary. There was a hardness in that third voice, a coldness, and yet it, too, reached out as if to offer solace and comfort and acceptance at the end of day.

“Great heart always knows great heart when they meet,” those voices sang now, and those sapphire eyes moved from Gayrfressa to Leeana. “Yet not all hearts, for all their greatness, have the courage to reach beyond themselves as yours has, Daughter.”

“My heart had good teachers, Mother,” Leeana replied, meeting that bottomless blue gaze as fearlessly as ever Bahzell had met Tomanak’s.

“Yes, it did,” Lillinara Orfressa acknowledged. “Would that all of my daughters had mothers fit to give their wings such strength.”

“It wasn’t only Mother, Milady,” Leeana said. “I love her dearly, but anything I am today isn’t her work alone.”

“No. No, it isn’t. And despite what even many of my followers believe, it isn’t true that men find no favor in my eyes, Daughter. Not even in the full dark of the moon, when the taste of justice burns hottest on my tongue. Man and woman were always meant for one another, and my heart is filled with joy when they find one another-when they know one another as your mother has known your father through all the years of joy and pain…and as you know Bahzell.”

Those deep, dark eyes moved to Bahzell as she spoke, and the hradani felt their weight. He felt them measuring and evaluating, weighing and trying, testing strengths and weaknesses not even Tomanak had touched so directly. He met them steadily, shoulders squared, and slowly, slowly she nodded.

“You are all my brother has said, Bahzell, son of Arthanal. I see why he thinks so highly of you…and so do I.”

“I’m naught but what you see before you, Lady,” he replied.

“Perhaps not, but what I see before me is quite enough.” She smiled. “Many men can die obedient to their sworn word, or for justice, or to defend the weak, but not all of them do it out of love.”

“And not all of them are called upon to give up so much for love,” Tomanak rumbled. Bahzell and Leeana both looked at him, and he smiled at them. That smile was warm, yet there were shadows in it, and in his eyes.

“Grief awaits you, children,” he told them softly. “Love is mortal kind’s greatest and most painful treasure. When another’s happiness is more important to you than your own, the time must always come when darkness shadows the light and the joy you’ve taken from and given to one another. It will be so with you.”

“Grief is part of life, Milord,” Leeana said, reaching out to reclaim Bahzell’s hand. “That’s why you gave us love, so we could cope with the grief.”

“An interesting theory,” Tomanak told her with a smile. “Yet the truth is that love surpasses us in ways no mortal can fully understand. You are full of surprises, you mortals-so weak in so many ways, and yet so strong because of your weaknesses. So easily drawn to the shadow, so many of you…and such blazing torches against the Dark.” He shook his head. “The courage you show in facing every day of your mortal lives puts the courage of any god or goddess to shame, Leeana Hanathafressa. Did you know that?”

“No.” It was her turn to shake her head. “We only do our best, Milord.”

“Which is the most anyone, god or mortal, could ask of you,” he agreed. “And which is also the only thing you and Bahzell-or Walsharno and Gayrfressa-know how to give.”

None of the mortals knew how to respond to that. They only looked back at him, and he smiled. Then his smile faded, and he reached out one enormous hand to touch first Bahzell’s head, and then Leeana’s. They felt the power to shatter worlds singing in his fingers, yet that mighty hand was as gentle as a bird’s wing, and his eyes were gentler yet.

“I have no desire to embarrass any of you, my children, and great hearts that you are, it does embarrass you when anyone sings your praises. That’s why you’re so much more comfortable turning deep emotion aside with jokes and insults. But what you give to all about you is the reason Lillinara and I have come to you today.”

“The reason?” Bahzell repeated in an unwontedly humble voice.

“The war maids’ charter denies you something both you and Leeana long for, my Sword, whether you would admit it even to yourselves or not. Your parents, your friends, will recognize that the ‘freemating’ to which the law restricts a war maid is a true marriage, one of heart and soul and not simply of the flesh. Yet both of you know not everyone will share or accept that truth. Not even a god can change the heart of someone who hates or denigrates with blind, unreasoning bigotry. But we know, Lillinara and I, and whatever the law of mortals may say, we are not bound by charters or legal codes or custom.”

“Great heart knows great heart, I said,” Lillinara sang, “and so do we. So tell us, my children, do you truly take one another as man and wife? Will you cleave to one another through times of joy and times of sorrow? Will you love, protect, care for one another? Will you share your lives in the face of all this world’s tempests and bring one another at the end of everything into the still, sweet calm of your love?”

“Aye, that I will, Lady,” Bahzell replied, raising Leeana’s hand to his lips.

“And I,” Leeana replied, equally firmly, turning to smile not at the goddess but into Bahzell’s eyes.

“Then hold out your left hands,” Tomanak said.

Bahzell released Leeana’s hand and they both extended their left arms.

“Blood of blood,” Tomanak rumbled.

“Bone of bone,” Lillinara sang.

“Flesh of flesh,” Tomanak pronounced.

“Heart of heart,” his sister said.

“And soul of soul,” their voices mingled in a duet fit to set the heavens trembling or send mountains dancing, a song that echoed from the stars themselves. “Be two who are one. Give, share, love, and know the joy such love deserves.”

Light gathered about the extended wrists-a cloud of blue touched with the argent of moonlight and burnished with gold. It enveloped Bahzell’s and Leeana’s arms, flashing higher and brighter, and then, with a silent explosion, it vanished and they gazed at the bracelets upon their wrists. The traditional cuff-style marriage bracelets of a Sothoii wife and husband, but different. They gleamed not with the gold of which such bracelets were made, at least among the wealthy, nor with the rubies with which such bracelets were set. No, these were of silver and set with opals in a gleaming circle about the full moon of the Mother between the crossed sword and mace of Tomanak. More than that, they were broader and made in a single, unbroken piece, without any opening, as if they had been forged about their wearers’ wrists, and even in the bright daylight of the Wind Plain, they gleamed faintly in blue and silver.

Bahzell and Leeana stared down at them, then raised their eyes to Tomanak and Lillinara once more, and Tomanak smiled at them.

“We promise they won’t glow when you don’t want them to,” he said. “When you’re creeping around in the shrubbery, for example.” His smile grew broader, then faded into an expression of sober pleasure. “And I know the two of you needed no outward symbol of your love for one another. But when we find ourselves as proud of someone as we are of you, we reserve the right to give them that outward symbol, whether they need it or not. Wear them with joy, my children.”

Bahzell and Leeana nodded, unable for once to speak, and Lillinara cocked her head.

“And now, Leeana, I have a gift to celebrate your wedding.”

“Lady?” Leeana looked puzzled.

“I think it will bring you joy, Leeana, but it isn’t really for you. Or not directly at least,” Lillinara continued. “Not even a goddess can make things as if they’d never happened. But that doesn’t mean we can’t take steps…Gayrfressa.”

The mare twitched, her surprise obvious, and her ear pricked forward as she gazed up at the deity.

‹ Yes, Lady?› Even her mental voice seemed less brash than usual, and Lillinara smiled at her.

“You are as worthy a daughter as Leeana,” the goddess said. “And, like her, you would never ask any special favor for yourself. And that is why I give both of you this gift on the day of her wedding and to celebrate the day of your bonding with her.”

She reached out, touching Gayrfressa’s forehead, and silver light blazed up, blindingly bright in the daylight. The courser’s head tossed-in surprise, not fear or hurt-and then the light flashed once and was gone.

Bahzell’s ears flattened as Gayrfressa turned her head, looking at him, and her incredulous joy flooded into him through his herd sense. The mutilated socket of her right eye had been filled once again-not with an eye, but with a glittering blue and silver star. It glowed, almost like Wencit of Rum’s wildfire eyes but without the shifting rainbow hue of Wencit’s gaze, and delight roared through Gayrfressa’s heart like the proud, joyous strength of the wind for which she was named as the vision which had been ripped from her was restored.

“You’ve always seen more than most, Daughter,” Lillinara told her gently. “Now you’ll be able to see what others see, as well. And perhaps,” the goddess smiled almost impishly, and delight chuckled and rippled through the glorious harmony of her voices, “you’ll see just a little more clearly than they while you’re about it.”

She stepped back, beside Tomanak, and the two deities gazed at the four mortals before them for a long, silent moment. Then, in unison, they bent their heads in a bow of farewell and vanished.

Human, hradani, and coursers looked at one another, bemused, shaken, joyous, and somehow deeply rested and refreshed, and the voices of god and goddess whispered in the backs of their brains.

“Love each other, children. Love each other always as much as you do now, for yours is a song this world will long remember, and love is what will take you there, and give you strength, and bring you home to us in the end.”