Wild Magic

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She leans forward, bringing her aged face into the light; the ghost of beauty clings to her bones.

I am Sibyl that reads the soul and answers as she chooses-most of the time-whenever I’m not sealed by those interfering ignorant gods.

Ah well, silence is also an answer.

Chapter 1. The Coming Of The Honeychild

Reyna Hayaka leaned against a Sequba tree at the edge of the Abey-zaza Grove, dug out his strikebox and his ti-pipe. He packed a pinch of bhaggan into the smoke-hole, fired it up, and sucked in a mouthful of the smoke. He was pleased with himself. He’d found all the herbs and roots Tai needed and got them in first light with the dew still on them. The best time.

The smoke trickled from his nose and faded into the warm green shadow.

A breeze whispered through the leaves of the canopy and in that gentle rustle he started hearing murmurs from the Sequba moththeries, translucent elusive creatures that even the Kassian ‘Tai saw only from the corner of her eye.

Tai. Corner of her eye. Corner of her eye. Tai. Wild-magic. Never-never fly-you-by.

He smiled dreamily as a wispy something soared past on gossamer wings and swooped in and out of the feathery smoke.

In a burrow beneath the knotted roots of a nearby Sequba, a famma bird sang and his mate answered with a demure twitter. Deeper in the Grove a pan-tya chittered, broke off abruptly. All around, there were furtive rustles, small squeaks and chirrups, the thousand sounds of life beneath the trees.

Sing a song of slippery slides, atip atoop atwitter, hot hot hotter, damned dirt gets dirtier. Tike tiki tirriah.

And a twee twi twee-ee.

A bee hummed past, then another. Reyna tapped the pipe against a root, ground his heel over the ash. He stretched and yawned, settled the basket handle more comfortably over his arm and started for the River.

Reyna Hayaka was Salagaum, tall and limber with long, narrow hands and feet and the breasts of a woman. His blue-black hair was plaited in hundreds of thin braids that swung in a limber lion’s mane down past his shoulders. He had honey colored eyes and his skin was burnt caramel, smooth as silk with amber lights where it was pulled tight across the bone. He wore a white cotton-and-silk underrobe, cinched tight about his waist with a wide black leather belt, a heavier overrobe with broad stripes of crimson and amber which fell in straight lines from his shoulders, blowing back as he moved to show the lining of amber silk.

Slow-dancing along in a happy languor, humming a bee-hymn, amber bangles clanking about his wrists, amber and gold hoops swinging from his earlobes, he rounded a tall broom bush-and stopped, startled, as he saw a very young child sitting on the landing, watching a strange little beast that looked like a cross between a cat and a monkey; it was jumping at famma birds hunting snails in the gravel at the waterline.

“Ulloa, honey,” he said. “Where did you come from?”

She stared at him through a webbing of silky black hair, startled and afraid; she had big eyes, odd eyes, gem-colored, the right was blue, the left green.

“It’s all right,” Reyna, said, his voice soft, soothing, making a song of the words. “It’s all right, my honey. I won’t hurt you.’

‘ He took a step toward her.

The child whimpered, rolled onto her hands and knees and scooted away from him, heading for the end of the landing and the wide brown River beyond.

As Reyna swore under his breath, dropped the basket and ran desperately down the bank, a gray streak whipped past him, circled the child, and chittered in her face. As she slowed, startled, he dived and caught the hem of her lacy shift.

Shaken, but keeping a firm hold on the cloth in spite of the baby’s howls and struggles, he sat up. “Hush, little honey,” he murmured, “Hush, sweeting. No no, Reyna won’t hurt you Look here, your little friend isn’t afraid of me.” He held out his free hand and let the beast sniff at it.

The cat-monkey wriggled with pleasure, pushed its head against Reyna’s palm and produced a loud soothing hum, then it sat on its haunches and stared at him with round intelligent eyes; it was a strange creature with its flattened little face like a miniature baby and small black hands folded over a silky white ruff.

The child stopped her struggles, her screaming diminished to a series of sniffles.

Reyna laughed comfortably, took the lower corner of his overrobe and used the lining to wipe her eyes, then her nose. “There. Isn’t that better?”

“‘spa, ‘nas,” she said. “Poess’m? Oidat’s tor? Tis su?”

“I don’t understand a word of that, beb6.” He smoothed the hair out of her mismated eyes; it was a waterfall of black silk and softer than anything he could remember touching. His heart turned over. “You are a mystery, oh diyo. Well, let us see, let us see…”

He tapped his forefinger between his brows. “Reyna Hayaka. That’s my name. Do you understand, bebe?” He tapped again. “Me. Reyna.” Moving slowly so he wouldn’t startle her, he touched her forehead, his finger trembling, then spread both hands in what he hoped was a universal, query sign. “You. Name?”

She gurgled, a happy sound that tickled his insides, curled one small grubby hand into a fist, then used her other hand to straighten out her forefinger. She poked herself in the chest. “Faan Korispais Piyolss,” she chanted, a lesson she’d learned so completely she didn’t have to think.

Reyna nodded, his many black plaits swinging and slipping with the movements of his head. “And does your friend have a name?” He pointed to the cat-monkey. “Name?”

“Nainai,” she said, nodding vigorously. “Ailiki. Eym mahsar.” She shook her hair over her face again, looked slyly through the strands, her body shouting mischief. “Reyna,” she said, then giggled.

“Diyo, you are quick, little honeychild.” He chuckled. “You know you aren’t supposed to go round calling adults by their use names. Someone taught you manners and did a good job of it.” He gazed, over her head at the River, so wide here near the estuary that the far bank was a faint fuzzy blue line. Wide and empty. “Speaking of which, my honey, how did you come here and where’s your mother, hmm?” He tucked his hand under her chin and lifted her head so he could look into those bi-colored eyes. “Mama?”

She blinked at him; for a moment he thought she was going to cry. “Mamay?” Her eyes dulled as if a film had slid across them; she shivered and gulped, then she flung herself at him, hands clutching his robe, head, butting into his breasts. “Mamay, Mamay,” she wailed.

“Hush, bebe, hush, we’ll find your mama, diyo, we will.” He could feel the small body shuddering against him, feel the shudders fading; there was a last, small gulp and she lay heavy in his arms. “Diyo, my honey, oh diyo my sweeting, I wish…”

Ailiki went trotting off, jumped into the small sailboat Reyna had moored to a post at the side of the landing. Her tail curled around her, the beast crouched on one of the thwarts, her head up, her ears pricked as if to say, what are you waiting for?

“Well, look at that, b6b6.”

Faan turned her head, blinked at the mahsar. She sighed, started sucking her thumb, too worn out, he thought, for anything more.

“That’s a sign if I ever saw one, my honey.” He shifted his grip on her, got to his feet and started toward the boat.

“Abey’s Sting,” he said suddenly, “I’d forget my head…” He looked down at the child, pulled a sad face for her that made her giggle round her thumb, then hauled her back along the landing to the basket he’d dropped when he dived for her, explaining as he walked that he didn’t dare put her down, she moved too fast and chances were she’d be in that River before he’d taken two steps.

She was turning into a dead weight, heavier with every step. He shifted his grip again before he bent for the basket. “I know now why women have hips,” he murmured. “How in this crazy world does a baby like you gain fifty pounds whenever she feels like it?” He straightened, jiggled her higher and got his arm crooked under her. “Vema vema, honeychild, it’s back to the boat we go and off to find your mama. DownRiver first, I think, look round the Koo. If your people know they’ve lost you, they should be looking for you. Trouble is, a hundred things could happen so they don’t know when you went off, or where.”

He settled her in the bottom of the boat, set the basket beside her, nodded with satisfaction as Ailiki jumped from the thwart into her lap. “Good mahsar,” he said, “keep her safe. A boat’s no place for a baby, but we haven’t much choice right now.” He scratched at his nose and frowned down at her. The lacy shift was clean and dry. “You don’t look like you’ve been in the water, but I don’t see how else… vema vema, how doesn’t matter right now.”