Kaelyn reined her pony in beside Gerid, her hand falling to her sword hilt. “What does he want?”
“He says he’s dedicated his life to the Goddess,” said Talar. “He wants to travel with Her avatar.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her gut churned. She didn’t think she was going like where this was headed.
Gerid furrowed his brow. “You don’t think he thinks–?”
Talar burst into laughter and rocked back in his saddle. “This is hilarious. He thinks you’re an avatar of the Goddess.”
“He what–?” She didn’t know what to say. It was ridiculous. She didn’t want any of the clansmen traveling with her–and at the moment that included Talar. He didn’t have to laugh at her. It wasn’t that hilarious.
The clansman reached for his sword. Talar swallowed his mirth and raised his empty hands, saying something in his native tongue.
The clansman’s eyes narrowed. He still gripped the hilt of his sheathed sword, but made no move to draw it.
“Well,” said Talar in Meriduinian, “what’s one more? Come on.” He urged his horse forward and the clansman brought his mount in step with him.
She turned to Gerid, but he shrugged, his amusement twinkling in his eyes, and followed.
This was a disaster. She couldn’t bring someone who thought she was an avatar–whatever that was–when she wanted the clansmen to leave her alone.
“He can’t come with us,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound as childish as she thought she did.
Talar sighed. “I don’t think you have much of a choice.”
“One more couldn’t hurt,” said Gerid. “I remember a friend of mine finding a soaked kitten not too long ago.”
She glanced from man to man to man, at their stoic profiles and gazes focused on the morning sun. She could only imagine what they were thinking. This was a fight she wasn’t going to win. It stung that Talar hadn’t stood up for her. She’d thought, because he’d suggested leaving, that he’d understood. “Fine.”
“The north isn’t so bad, you know,” said Talar.
Now he was just trying to look on the bright side. It was annoying when all she really wanted to do was pout.
He urged his horse into an easy canter down the hard, snow-packed road.
“I think,” said Kaelyn, following suit, purposefully ignoring this strange, new clansman. “I would like it better in the spring and summer.”
“You may change your mind after a solstice in Carthway,” said Gerid.
“Have you ever been?” asked Talar.
“No,” said Gerid, “but I hear it’s the biggest party this side of the Halyns.”
“Any idea what we’re going to do once we’re in Carthway?” asked Kaelyn
“Enjoy the solstice,” said Gerid.
“No. I mean after. Do we spend the winter in Carthway? Maybe we should go back to Mythnar.”
Talar sighed. “You know, you would be much happier enjoying the moment if you were actually in it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Right now. At this moment. Does it matter what we do next?” He paused, but she didn’t think he really wanted an answer. “No. So stop complaining.”
She clenched her jaw, unable to think of a witty retort.
“Besides,” said Talar, “about a fortnight from Carthway is the Oracle.”
He’s just so smug. She glared daggers into his back. He had to think she’d forgotten her purpose. Well, hadn’t she? All she’d wanted to do was leave Angwyn and return to Mythnar. She’d spent no time thinking about her lost memory. Not since leaving Mac and Talar. Did she even want her memory back? She’d been living just fine without it.
The ball of fur nestled behind her sneezed twice in quick succession.
Fine, maybe she hadn’t been living all right without it.
Perhaps she hadn’t been living.
But she had no idea what she would do once her memory returned. Should she go back to whatever she’d been doing in Norwell? Find a husband? Return to her family? She didn’t know. Of course she didn’t. She barely knew what she was doing now, let alone what she would do in the future.
She focused her attention on the countryside. They had crossed out of the keep’s enclosed plateau and were making their way to the northern highlands, a large plateau of rolling snowdrifts nestled between the north and south sister ranges of the Halyn Mountains.
Sharp fingers of rock reached out of the steep landscape, with opalescent icy gloves and ancient evergreens slipping through their grasp. Sunlight caught in jewels of ice hanging from the trees and flashed rainbows against the rock and snow.
“How long to the highlands?” asked Gerid.
“About two days,” said Talar. “We’ll break out of the mountains soon and stop early at May-Garth’s tavern.”
#
Talar didn’t know what to make of the clansman, Bledig, who’d sworn himself to Kaelyn–not that she knew he had, or that he was going to tell her. He didn’t know what to make of Kaelyn, either. And his Goddess wasn’t saying anything on the matter. He couldn’t deny that something amazing had happened during her trial by combat, although it was more likely years of illicit martial training on Kaelyn’s part than anything to do with the Goddess. But the members of the Great Hawk Clan hadn’t held a sobbing woman in the closet. They didn’t know her like he did.
But did he really know her? She didn’t even know herself. And after their conversation in Aric’s room last night, he had no idea what to make of her. She kept giving him strange looks. Especially after he’d slipped up and mentioned his wife. He shouldn’t have said anything about Delwyn.
Of course, he shouldn’t have held Kaelyn in the closet either. Yet he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself if he’d wanted to. Something about her drew him, fueled emotions he thought long dead, while igniting a guilt at the thought that feeling something more than friendship for this ferocious and vulnerable woman was betraying Delwyn’s memory.
He forced those thoughts still–or as still as they could be–and tried to take his own advice and enjoy the moment. It was strange being in the Halyns, comforting and painful. It would be even more odd attending the solstice festivities.
Dusk settled as they left the narrow path to join a wider, mud-slicked road. Deep wagon ruts dug into the snow and churned up mud while smaller paths on either side could be seen where travelers chose to fight the drifts instead of the icy mud. They were only on the road for a few moments before they turned into the large, muddy courtyard of May-Garth’s tavern.
It had been a long time since he’d visited–another life entirely–but it hadn’t changed. The tavern, a large two story building, was made from enormous stones and logs, stout and square, guarded by two ancient oaks that pressed against either side. The stable behind the tavern was of a similar design with two large doors opened wide to greet travelers. Behind the stable was an expansive corral system of log railings while a low, waist-high stone fence, now almost completely covered in snow, designated the front courtyard.
They left their mounts with a stable boy and, laden with their saddlebags, bedrolls, saddles and tack, stumbled into the inn.
“Sit tight,” said Talar, dropping his gear at the only empty table he could see. “I’ll see about sleeping arrangements.”
Leaving the group, he eased through the crowd to the back. Just as busy as he remembered.
He slid up to the long bar and leaned toward the bartender so he could be heard over the crowd. “Is Mayvina here?”
The bartender offered a false smile. “She’s busy. What can I get you, Southerner?”
Talar pursed his lips. He hadn’t anticipated being mistaken for a Meriduinian. It seemed strange that he was now neither of the south or the north, but that was what years of hiding from himself got him, he supposed.
He shoved his sleeves up to his elbows, revealing the black bands around his wrists. Unless the man demanded to see Talar’s Tree of Life, there was no way he could tell that Talar wasn’t a full shaman. “I haven’t seen May in a long time and would like to congratulate her on her successful business.”
The bartender’s gaze dropped to the tattoos and the color drained from his face.
At least the stains were useful for something.
“Of course, Shaman, I’ll find her.” The bartender scurried away.
The last time Talar had been at May-Garth’s it was the winter before his binding. He’d been there to pay his respects to May on the death of her husband.
“Master Shaman,” said a voice. “Do I know you?”
Talar turned to face May. She was still the playful ample-figured bar mistress, although most of her dark hair was silver and more laugh-lines creased her delicate features. “Mayvina, and not a day older,” said Talar.
“Talar.” She threw her arms around him, pulling him close. The bar dug into his gut but she released him before it became too uncomfortable. “I heard you’d forsaken your vows.”
Talar shrugged. “Can’t really wash out the ink.”
“So you’re not. . . ?”
He shook his head.
She grabbed his hands, examining his wrists. “But they haven’t faded?”
Because even if he’d forsaken his Goddess, she was still toying with him.
“My Dedicator did incredible work.” His throat tightened at the thought of his wife’s unfinished work, but he swallowed it back.
May traced the pattern gently with her fingers. “That she did.”
“I’m here for the night. Is there floor space for three and one half?”
“One half?”
“She’s small. I wouldn’t charge full price for her.”
“A young lady is it?” asked May with a sly smile.
“Something like that.” Talar rolled his eyes and May chuckled. “I don’t want to get into it.” It was far too complicated.
“You’re young. You should be married by now.”
“I should be a shaman, too, but you don’t just see a Tree of Life finish itself.”
“You can find another master Dedicator.”
“The Goddess no longer sings to me.” Ridicules, taunts, and harasses was more like it. “But you forget, back to business. Three men and one teeny-tiny girl.”
“How’s your money?”
“How are your stable hands?”
She grinned and put her hands on her hips. “Well, if you’re willing to help muck out that mess in the morning, floor space is on me, with a spot in the kitchen for your woman.”
“And dinner?”
She reached out and pinched his cheek. “On me, too, because you’re just so cute.”
Talar laughed. “Just wait until you see our kitten. If she doesn’t think she needs to take on the world she’s even cuter than me.”
May laughed, promising to send dinner to their table before turning to reprimand a customer for harassing one her girls.
Talar worked his way through the crowd back toward the table, making sure his sleeves were still rolled up. Given that he’d been mistaken as a southerner, it was probably best to keep his tattoos visible since the rest of his party stood out. Most obvious was Gerid with his long shock of blond hair. Thank the Goddess he was sitting. He was easily taller than Mac, and Mac was considered a giant in clansmen mythology. Beside Gerid, sat Bledig, the Great Hawk’s defeated champion who wouldn’t have been a problem if he hadn’t recently stained his face with the mark of the Goddess. Very few clansmen claimed to have had a personal encounter with the Mother of All, and even fewer Master Dedicators performed the ritual art to prove the encounter.
What had Bledig seen that day? Whispers of the Goddess manifested had swept through the clan and their Master Dedicator had obviously agreed since he’d tattooed Bledig’s face.
As Talar drew near to Kaelyn, a clammy sweat slicked his palms and he stopped behind a group of arguing men to wipe his hands down his breeches. What was wrong with him? She wasn’t an avatar or a manifestation of his Goddess. She was a scared young woman with no memory, who wielded a sword as if it was an extension of herself. He’d never told her, and never would, that the moment she’d stepped into the circle to fight the world had stilled with an unearthly silence.
But she was Kaelyn, the woman who’d roared with laughter when he’d chased a rabbit into a hidden brook and soaked himself. The woman who’d pouted when Mac corrected her fighting forms. She was the same person whose eyes had burned into his that night in the prison, freezing him with dread. And the same woman who’d cried in his arms afterward, making his skin burn where she’d touched him.
He glanced at the table. She was staring at him. What was she thinking? He could try to deny everything that had happened that day, but he couldn’t deny that the song of the Goddess quietly singing through his Tree of Life had changed tunes.
He should never had come home. He should have stayed in Meriduin, numb and happy. That woman, appearing delicate and insignificant between the giants–dark and light–was more trouble than he ever imagined.
