Heir of Scars I: Parts 1-8 (35 page)

“Do you usually understand her?”

“We have our ways,” he smiled. “Well, she at least gave a clear ‘yes’ when I asked to see you. It might be the most definite answer I’ve had from her in years.”

He seemed to be finding his wit again, and Adria beamed at him from the confines of her circle, then sighed. “I hope this does not cause trouble for you… for the Runners, I mean.”

He shook his head. “No, Mateko has asked to stay and help her to catch up to us. They will make up the day quickly enough — well before we should need them. If we must, there is a place we can delay, to wait for them. We simply need to put some distance between ourselves and the camp.”

Adria swallowed. “There is danger?”

Preinon looked at first as if he would not answer, but then he nodded. “I have not been fully truthful, but… you are a woman now. Mateko does not climb trees merely for honey. He, and others among us, have watched for sign of the enemy, and it has come.”

Adria nodded. “How near?”

“Not an immediate danger. It is why we move. To determine their path, to stay ahead of them, and to lead them away from the more vulnerable camps.”

“Like the spring bears, the Knights will smell the blood,” Adria nodded. “The weaker and the wounded. You will draw them away.”

He nodded. “The Knights have moved more quickly than expected, and in an unexpected direction. They seem to be trying to outflank us from the east and south, instead of pushing us from the north.”

Adria grew anxious then, in her stomach, and her pain increased. 
I hope my Moon is only making a strong first impression
, she hoped. Still, she wanted some small comfort from her uncle before he left, or at least more certainty of her fate, if it was his to give.

“Uncle,” she hesitated.
I am so often hesitating
, she thought, and wondered if that would somehow change, after the next night, once she was a woman. “Why have they changed plans?”

“If I knew that,” he sighed. “We might have predicted it beforehand, and not been made to rush.”

She shrugged, and he looked amused and perplexed with her.

He asked, “Why do
you
think they have changed?”

She took another moment to gather her thoughts before answering with another question. “Do they know that I am here?”

Preinon did not answer.

He still does not wish to frighten me,
Adria thought, continuing, “I am in danger here. I have
brought
danger here. I have allowed Taber an easy way to destroy me, far from the eyes of the citadel… or even more simply, to… proclaim me a traitor…”

“She would not do such a thing,” Preinon swiftly assured her “You are far more valuable alive and returned to your place.”

“As a political asset, you mean, something to barter… assuming I can be controlled long enough to trade away.” She frowned, but had calmed a little, and her tone held a little humor. “Ah, the glorious future of the Aeman princess, finally blossomed into womanhood, destined to cement some alliance or other through strategic marriage to a foreign noble.”

Preinon smiled. “And you thought they taught you the languages of Somana and Kelmantium so that you could enjoy their epic poetry?”

Adria sighed. “The wayward princess, deluded by childish fantasies of ghosts or fairies in the forest, wanders off on a misadventure.” Even as she said it, she realized she had done exactly that. A little embarrassed at the thought, she continued the argument hastily.

“It is still dangerous for me to be here,” she reasoned. “Perhaps they mean to reclaim me. They might claim I was kidnapped, or at least prevented from returning, and use this as an excuse for outright war against the Aesidhe.”

“They need no such excuse,” he said. “And there is no political reason for them to declare open hostilities. They would gain no advantage with anyone. It is better for them to make war slowly, to pace the destruction of the Aesidhe, so that there are enough Aeman to claim the lands that are taken, and so that more Knights can be brought to the cause. When this threat is gone, they will need another — if not a rebellion, then they will likely have to cross borders to find it. That is too much of a risk until Heiland is stronger. Your father’s kingdom is still young, as well as the Matriarch’s church. You are safe here, for the time being.”

Adria shook her head. “But… when I first arrived, you said I had brought danger with me. I remember.”

Preinon hesitated, then merely shook his head. “I spoke hastily. I have a better understanding now.”

He seemed a little too certain, and Adria realized that he was keeping something from her even as he was leading her to draw conclusions.

“Still, I could be an embarrassment for them, for my father, should the truth of my leaving be told.”

“The truer stories are often the last to be told, and often less believed because of it.” Preinon shrugged. “We cannot understand their motive from their method, not yet. But you must put this from your mind, for now. You should clear your thoughts of war, and focus upon becoming a woman, Lilene. Shísha will somehow know I’ve distracted you, and name me a bad teacher.”

Adria sighed and nodded her surrender. “Fine. I will meditate all day on what it means to have such a womanly stomachache.”

He looked a little embarrassed, but nonetheless amused. He rose, and looked at the circle which separated them. “It is a good thing I did not mean to give you a proper goodbye…”

“If you are going to say something about a bear hug, I’d strongly reconsider…”

Preinon laughed, shaking his head, and then sighed in farewell. “Be safe, Second Daughter.”

Adria nodded, and tears came suddenly.
I’ve spent my life trapped in circles. A tower set apart from the world, a tiara and a title, and now a ring upon the ground to keep a woman from a world. And still… there are worse shapes for a life to follow.

“Journey in a circle, Uncle,” Adria managed with a broken voice. “Promise me one last childish embrace. Promise me you will return.”

His eyes grew wet as well. “You have never been alone, Adria Idonea. And you will not be now.”

Hunting the White Wolf

I
mani had a particularly Aesidhe beauty. Full of face, lush of body, and with a single thick dark plait down her back, entwined with feathers, a few white beads, and one red. Adria felt slight beside her as they broke Adria’s camp together before the sun arose. She was not much older than Adria, but already soon to be paired with a man and well ready to make her own home as a woman.

When they finished, Imani led her to the riverside and took a bundle from her own pack while Adria looked on. It was a cool morning, and Adria half dreaded part of what she knew would come next — she would probably be expected to bathe, and the water would be rather more brisk than she liked.

Upon the sandy bank Imani had opened and arrayed the contents of the bundles upon their hide and cloth wrappings, and Adria realized that she would even have to bathe with the other woman present.

Squires have a bath before their knighting
, she reasoned. 
With senior knights attending them. This is not, then, so strange.

She noted a comb and oil for her hair, feathers, a single red bead, a jar of pigment like the Hunters used, and something which looked like a paintbrush, but tipped in soft white bristles like the ones she had given Imani. An article of shiny white cloth proved to be a gown as it unfolded.

Silk…?
 Adria wondered in disbelief.

There was a smaller cloth, attached to twine, for her to wear underneath, and finally what seemed to be a rattle, as if for a baby to play with, made from a gourd and painted with a simple line drawing of a wolf.

For a moment she wondered if she was going to have to determine how to use these things on her own, but then Imani, once she saw that Adria had examined each, approached Adria and took her hand. Then she pointed to herself with the other, and said, with some difficulty, “Mother.” It sounded rather more like “moo-tuh,” for the Aesidhe only used the “m” sound properly in their language.

Adria did not show any amusement, of course, knowing her own few Aesidhe words were far from perfect.

Sh
í
sha must have tutored Imani in the words she might need
, Adria smiled gratefully, nodding her understanding.

Imani led her two steps into the river, just so the water came over their ankles, and then, slowly enough that Adria could tell exactly what she was doing, she began removing Adria’s clothing. Reflexively, Adria glanced around, to be fully certain that no one else was nearby.

It is unusual for no one else to be in or near the water,
Adria thought.
The entire tribe must have been told to avoid the river for the sake of ceremony.

Even more than her growing nakedness and the attendance of someone else in its accomplishment, this understanding made her face glow with embarrassment. 
Even in absence, the whole tribe is a part of this, even every child who would happily be bathing just now.

Imani moved with absolute care and tenderness, and Adria half imagined she remembered Kaye, undressing and bathing her as a small child. But she could not be sure. It was the kind of thing she had thought of, the day and night before, in her meditation. And she was very hungry, and a little dazed. She realized that, perhaps, this was part of the point.

When Imani had finished undressing her, she did the same for herself, without a hint of embarrassment — though the same could not be said for Adria, whose own body paled next to the other’s in every way. Imani had sat her own clothing next to Adria’s on the beach, and took up the oil and comb, then led her out further into the water, where she unwound each of Adria’s braids, rinsed and oiled and combed her hair, and washed Adria’s body just enough so as not to make her uncomfortable. She left the rest to Adria herself, as she turned to where the morning light filtered through the trees over the bank.

Imani sang a song, then, without meter or rhyme, but Adria could understand almost nothing of the words. She seemed to be arguing with the sun, and asking it to wait, and Adria nearly laughed when Imani started to make motions of pushing away. At the end, she crossed her arms and turned her face away, as if ignoring its pleas.

Adria had finished by then, and Imani led her to the beach, where she gave Adria the smaller garment to wear about her hips, and took up the beads and feathers to braid into Adria’s hair as the two of them dried, shivering. Imani chatted as she did this, and either this was a less solemn part of the ceremony, or else the young woman merely reverted to her usual self in the familiar task.

Adria tried to follow some of it but had little success. Imani spoke much more quickly than was usual for an Aesidhe, and Adria was not the only one disinclined or unable to interrupt her.

When it was finished, Adria had four braids, each decorated with a different color of feathers, save for one smaller one with the single red bead. She recognized this as similar to the alchemical tradition she had learned from the Sisterhood, handed down through generations of Aeman and even Kelmantian scholars.

Each color represented to some an archangel, others a primary element of the universe, a bodily humor… the correspondences were many, but together represented a balance of the spirit, the mind, and the body — the changes of each season, and each phase of life.

Perhaps the wisdom of the Aesidhe is closer to the Aeman than either would likely admit, 
Adria smiled, comforted. 
There must be some truth in the whole mess, then.

Imani lifted the gown up over Adria’s head, and let it fall onto her arms and shoulders. It really was silk, which Adria thought was only made by a rare breed of worm in Somana.

Surely the Aesidhe do not trade with them. They must have their own silk-makers.
 But still, the challenge of keeping the garment clean and untorn for any length of time would be significant. Maybe it was some sort of test. Her sweat alone would ruin such fabric soon after the sun touched her body.

Oh…
And she began to understand. The Sun wasn’t supposed to touch her. She was to remain in shadows, with the Moon. Still, she shivered, for though the gown was a rough silk, it hardly matched the warmth of linen, much less of wool or furs. She hoped she would not have to wear it long.
The moon doesn’t provide much heat.

Imani worked rapidly now, donning her own clothes in some haste. Then she pointed to Adria, or to the gown, perhaps, then to the bristles of the brush, and to the image on the rattle. “hweet hwolt,” she said… 
White Wolf?

Adria looked at the brush closely as Imani lifted it, and wondered if it truly was the fur of a white wolf, or some other animal — if the color had been removed, somehow. She knew such a thing hardly mattered, of course. She was only wondering distractedly.

Imani painted white whiskers onto Adria’s face with a pigment, and arched lines, to represent the face of a wolf. She thought this must not look as striking on her skin as it usually did — if this was not only a part of her own ritual, but any other girl’s, as well.

Certainly, these items have not been made just now, or just for me,
 Adria thought as Imani placed the rattle in her hand.

After this, Imani appraised her work, then whistled her approval, as the young Aesidhe men and women did for one another to show attraction. Adria laughed at the joke, and Imani wrinkled her nose in good humor, as if apologizing for an improper comment. In response, Adria looked at the rattle, and sucked on her fingers, like a baby, and Imani laughed, and clapped her hands, and danced about happily.

Apparently, we are still allowed to act a little childishly.

Imani led her back to the edge of the water and motioned for her to drink. Adria cupped her hands, and brought it to her lips, and Imani nodded approvingly. Just then, the sun was striking the water where they had bathed, and Imani looked wide-eyed as she took Adria’s hand, and she hunched over, motioning for Adria to do the same, and they ducked away into the shade of the woods.

They walked far outside the bounds of the tented village, and stopped at any abrupt noise. Adria realized that they were hiding from more than the sun.

Perhaps we are hiding from the eyes of men, as an Aeman bride hides from her husband on the day of the wedding ceremony.
Adria felt it appropriate. She felt as literally vulnerable in the slight white gown as she was probably meant to spiritually.

Between the girl and the woman, a moon in imbalance and confusion. Or maybe I’m a wolf avoiding the hunter. Or… maybe I’m just thinking nonsense,
 Adria thought. 
I hope I am fed soon, and don’t have to kill a rabbit with my nails and teeth.

There was another sound, rather loud and harsh, obviously not a rabbit, and Imani pointed to some bushes shaking in the distance. She lifted Adria’s hand with the rattle, and pointed it at the bush, and Adria shook the rattle at their pursuer. The bush subsided, and someone scampered off, and the two girls laughed.

This happened several times, from different directions, until the two found themselves at Shísha’s camp, where a small low dome had been made from saplings and hide, with a flap for an opening.

Shísha stood a short distance from this dome beside a large fire, the largest Adria had seen among the Aesidhe, tending it with an elk antler. Imani gave a small formal speech, and Shísha translated for Adria’s benefit.

“The White Wolf Woman has been to the water, to cleanse herself and to drink. The Hunter follows her, but she has scared him away, for she is not yet ready.”

Shísha rose, then she turned and placed the antler upon the ground in a patch of sunlight. It was blackened half its length, where it had worked among the flames, and Adria could see that something baked within the depths of the fire, but could not tell what it was.

Shísha knelt beside the dome, and pulled up its opening, and motioned for Imani and Adria to enter. It was such a small opening that they had to stoop low. Imani went first, and, just at the threshold, she removed all of her clothing again, save what went about her waist beneath her breeches, and she pressed her lips to the ground. Shísha whispered something in her ear then, and the young woman crawled inside.

Adria followed, carefully removing her gown, and Shísha held her hands open to receive it from her. “This is called the New Skin. It is the flesh we are given as a child, soft and sensitive, which we only slowly grow into. Its cloth is made from the Web-spinner, who sees how all things connect, and knows even the smallest change in wind and light, the touch of every creature, great and small, the Sun and the Moon.”

Adria whispered, “I understand, Lichushegi.”

“Speak so that even the sun might hear you.”

“I understand, Lichushegi,” Adria said, louder, and Shísha nodded her head and continued.

“Were you born among us, this gown would have been made from that which would have clothed you first as a babe, for they are both New Skin. Should you choose to marry, this New Skin will be yours to give to your husband, even as you give him your flesh. You give him your New Skin to become something new. For now, you will wear the Skin of the Moon, the night sky itself.”

I am meant to be naked now, or close enough
, Adria thought, and said, loud enough for the Sun to hear, “I understand, Lichushegi.”

Adria imagined there were more proper words which an Aesidhe girl normally spoke, but Shísha nodded again and motioned for Adria to continue.

Adria knelt down and put her lips to the ground, and Shísha whispered into her ear, “Your blood nourishes the Earth as it would a child. There is no loss in it, and no shame. Go inside, Likshochuhalene, and the Sun will send you its warmth, as a gift to the moon.”

Imani’s hand guided Adria to the place where she should sit, and Adria crossed her legs beneath her, put her elbows on her knees, a little stooped, for the ceiling was very close above. The ground had been cleared of grass and swept, and the earth was dry and cool beneath her.

As Shísha entered, Adria could see a shallow pit in the center of the room. Shísha sat just inside the opening as she closed the flap, and the darkness within was absolute. Shísha and Imani spoke quietly together in Aesidhe for a moment, and then Shísha raised her voice, changing smoothly into Aeman.

“Likshochuhalene, I have asked Imani for permission to perform the Ceremony in your tongue, and she has given it. The words of our language are deeply tied with our beliefs and how we understand our lives and our world. I have told her that some of the Ceremony will remain the same, but other parts will change, because your language is different, and you are different because of it. But you have come among our people, and you have adopted some of our ways, and so I feel you may adopt more, as a woman. Do you believe this?”

“I do,” Adria offered.

“Do you understand that you are becoming a woman, in body and in spirit?”

A little uncertain, Adria nodded, again, to a blind woman in total darkness, and then repeated aloud, “I do.”

“I will tell you the story of White Wolf Woman,” Shísha said, then began after a long breath:

“A young man of the tribe had once gone hunting, but found nothing to bring home to his people, though the moon was round and bright, and he heard the sound of many animals about. He was a new Hunter, bold but rash, and instead of moving slowly and waiting for his prey to come to him, he always ran off after them, and they were given good warning, and they escaped. For three nights he hunted thus, but the only animals he found were snakes, who rattled their tails at him and turned him away.

“Finally, in a clearing, he saw a wolf standing by a pool, in full view, drinking from the water. The wolf was beautiful, but strange — her coat was perfectly white, her eyes pale, and she seemed intelligent, for she noticed him as he stood at the edge of the clearing, with his bow in hand. Still, the wolf did not run.