The Pen and the Sword (Destiny's Crucible Book 2) (11 page)

Maera
smiled. “I also remember that age. Several times a year, we’d travel to a
shore. I loved to take off my shoes and run in the surf.” Her voice was gentle,
as she retrieved a fond memory.

“Here’s
your chance, Maera. We have enough time, and who knows what the surf will be
like on the way back?”

“My
chance?”

“To
run in the surf again.”

“I
was a child then,” Maera protested.

“What?
You’re too stuffy now as an adult to have fun?”

Maera
glared at Yozef, who stared back unrepentant. Seeing he was unimpressed by her
glare, she finally sighed. “All right, so maybe it
does
sound appealing.
And I’m not stuffy.”

Carnigan
grunted ahead of them.

“I
heard that, Carnigan Puvey! I am
not
stuffy.”

When
there was no response from Carnigan, she asked, “Well, am I?” a little
plaintively.

“You’re
stuffy,” asserted their chaperone.

Maera
harrumphed, then was silent for a few moments.

“Well,
I don’t think I’m stuffy. But Yozef’s right. If here’s an opportunity to walk
in the surf and I don’t take it, then maybe I will have to reconsider my
stuffihood
.”

She
laughed, reined in, stepped off the saddle, and gave the horse to Carnigan, who
had followed her in dismounting and accepted the reins with a quizzical
expression. Maera walked out toward the water into shallow waves running up the
beach. When the first push of water reached her, she skidded back until the
water slowed and stopped. She reached down, slipped off her shoes and stockings,
and carried them farther away from the water to a washed-up log. She returned to
the water, but this time let the water sweep past her, holding up the robe to
avoid getting it wet—a futile attempt, since by the fourth wave she spent most
of her time holding up its soaked bottom.

Several
unladylike exclamations erupted, followed by, “Well, curse it all! If I’m going
to do this, I might as well do it properly!” She gave Yozef and Carnigan a
threatening glare. “If you tell anyone about this, you’ll wish the Narthani had
gotten hold of you!”

She
raced back to the log and shucked off the robe, then folded it into a quick
ball and ran back to the water. Yozef whistled softly, while Carnigan raised an
eyebrow and smothered a laugh, almost. Under the robe, she wore a short printed
dress more decorative than usual for Caedellium women and probably expensive
enough to explain why similar garments were not common. The print depicted
large colored flowers against an off-white background. Maera walked into the
water, out to where it washed halfway up her calves.

Nice
legs
,
Yozef observed to himself, still sitting on his horse.

“Why
are you still sitting there like some statue?” huffed Carnigan, who tilted his
head in Maera’s direction.

Yozef
grinned. “Good point.” He dismounted and handed his reins to Carnigan, who walked
the three horses farther away from the water to a grove of trees, where he
could tie them up, sit in the shade, and watch the children.

Yozef
shed his boots and socks, rolled up his pant legs, and walked after Maera. She
was fifty yards away and obviously enjoying the moment. Yozef hesitated to
interrupt, so got to within twenty yards and simply followed her. One larger
wave surprised her, and she gave a squeal of delight as she raced away from it.
When she turned back to the water, she saw Yozef following for the first time.
She froze for a second, then relaxed.

“Oh,
Yozef, I haven’t done this for ever so long. Appropriate or not, I should thank
you for the prompting, even if I am stuffy.”

“I
think you just occasionally forget to simply have fun.”

Her
bright manner faded. “I think you’re right. It’s just that there always seems
to be something serious weighing on me every moment.”

“Life
is full of serious moments, but I don’t believe God wants us to forget the
moments of joy and pleasure. One of our philosophers believed that pain and joy
were complementary and that without both you couldn’t understand either.”

Maera
furrowed her brow and rubbed the back of her neck. “I can see the argument. No
matter what, there should always be time for joy and hope. Otherwise, what’s
the purpose of it all?”

They
walked side by side along the beach, talking like close acquaintances, though
not touching. At the end of the beach, they turned and walked toward where
Carnigan sat against a tree, dozing.

“So
much for our guard,” chuckled Maera.

“I
imagine if anything happened, Carnigan would be on the spot before you might
think.”

“He’s
an imposing figure. I didn’t know men came that large, until I saw him the
first time.”

“When
was that?” asked Yozef, as they reached the log and their shoes.

“Three
years ago, if I remember correctly,” she answered, brushing off her feet and donning
her shoes. “It’s not clear to me what his exact role is at the abbey. He’s not
a member of any of the orders. I asked Abbot Sistian, but he was evasive. I
suspect he’s a probationer.”

“A
probationer?” Asked Yozef.

“A
person who has committed some deed that got him in front of a magisterial court
and is sentenced to the custody of someone to watch him, until the court or the
custodian determines he can either resume normal Caedellium life or be banished
from the island. I suspect the abbot is the custodian, so whatever Carnigan did
must have been serious.”

“Somehow,
I can’t see Carnigan doing anything to get into that much trouble. He’s one of
the nicest persons I’ve ever met.”

“Carnigan
Puvey? Nice!? Everyone’s afraid of him!”

“Just
because people are afraid of him doesn’t mean there’s any reason to be.”

She
glanced at Yozef quickly, then back to her shoes. Yozef was one of the smartest
people she’d ever met, though he hid it behind general affability. She also suspected
he was one of the deepest persons, though she had no idea what was in those
depths. If he thought Carnigan was “nice,” maybe she should take a closer at
his huge friend.

They
walked to Carnigan and the horses, woke the man, and mounted, after Maera
pulled a smock from her bag and tied the robe to the back of the saddle. They rode
another mile to a cliff cutting off the beach, led the horses up a half-hidden
game trail to the top of the bluff, and left Carnigan and the horses. Off they went,
Yozef carrying a backpack and Maera a smaller bag she’d pulled from her larger
one. It took another hour to reach Yozef’s special place. As they crested a
hill, the sun shone straight up at high noon. The sky was still clear, except
for the scattered clouds, and they heard only their footsteps and breathing,
the slight whisper of wind across their ears, and occasional nearby avian calls.

They
stood on the crest for several minutes. For Yozef, it was his third visit, but was
Maera’s first. Though the bloom was past peak, Maera took in the scene, amazed.
A stream meandered through the valley floor and scattered jacaranda trees, with
golden poppies not quite carpeting the valley floor. The sandy soil was perfect
for the poppies, as long as there was sufficient rain, which there had been
more than enough of this year. The only difference on this trip was a native white
flower now interspersed with the poppies.

They
walked down the hill, stepping on and through carpets of gold and white flowers.
Maera initially attempted to avoid stepping on them but soon gave up and strode
through them, copying Yozef. At the floor of the valley, they picked a spot
near the stream and under one of the more impressive trees, with a trunk three
feet across and branches spread so wide the canopy width was greater than the
tree height. As with all jacarandas, the foliage was sparse, so that even with
a tree of this size, the filtered light danced beneath it, as the leaves moved
in the breeze.

Yozef
pulled a thick linen cloth out of his pack and started to spread it on the
ground. Maera hastened to the other end, and they laid it out, so Yozef could
set the pack on it and begin pulling out the mid-day meal.

“You
said your people call this a ‘picnic’? Why is there a separate name?”

“Most
meals are more formal affairs, even if the food is plain and little of it. A
picnic is when you eat outdoors and usually in a family or group setting. It’s
considered a fun thing to do, and the typical foods on a picnic also make it a
little different.”

Not
having fried chicken, potato salad, and watermelon on hand, Yozef had
improvised with what
was
available. A roll of hard sausage, hunks of three
different cheeses, olives, a loaf of dark bread baked that morning, large green
grapes, a hunk of sweetbread, and a flagon of grape wine that would have
scandalized his wine-snobbish father—the latter he assumed was made from descendants
of wild North American grapes, because the wine had the musty essence called
foxy.

They
sat on the linen, nibbled on the food, sipped the sweet wine, and simply talked
as two acquaintances with no other references to the outside world. Two hours
passed. Normally, she wasn’t a prodigious eater, but today Maera’s appetite
surprised her.

They
talked about her family, his family, his efforts to adjust to Caedellium and
accepting he would probably never see his family again, and her frustrations at
the limited roles of women, a topic she had seldom spoken of with anyone,
particularly men.

“I
can see it would be difficult here for women of your intelligence,” Yozef
remarked.

She
eyed him pointedly. “You think I’m intelligent?”

“Maera,”
he chided, “anyone but an idiot could tell you’re one smart cookie.”

“Cookie?”

“Sorry.
A phrase from home. Think of it as saying you’re one of the smarter people
around.”

Maera
flushed, not from embarrassment, but from appreciation. “Yozef, that’s the
first time in my life that anyone besides my parents has directly said that to
me.”

“I’m
sorry if this offends you, but your people are backward . . . some would say
stupid . . . not to acknowledge women of ability.”

“
I’m
not offended, although I’d caution you to say such things carefully. Our
customs are old and mean well, but we’re only slowly allowing women more roles—Keelan
more than many clans. I take it, then, that your people have different
customs?”

“Some
different and some similar. After all, we’re all humans with the same needs and
wants, even we if try to fulfill them in different ways. My people believe that
there’s nothing a woman should be restricted from doing, if she has the ability
and desire. Anything less means that society is deliberately losing all of the
contributions women could make.”

“But
men and women are
not
the same,” Maera said. “There are roles that one
fills that the other cannot. No man is going to bear and birth children. And
men are generally much stronger and do the heaviest work and fighting.”

“Having
different roles doesn’t require predetermined limitations. A woman can have
children and still fill an important role outside the family, at least at some
time in her life. It should also be the decision of the woman what roles she
wants
to fill. If it’s her wish to be a traditional wife and mother, then fine. However,
it should also be fine even if she doesn’t want to marry or have children.”

“Not
marry and no children!” exclaimed Maera. “Then
what
is she? Who
is
she?”

“I
am not saying it’s a good thing or bad, only that it should be her choice and not
forced on her.”

“Although
I appreciate what you are saying, things aren’t that way here on Caedellium. While
I would wish more opportunities for myself, I still want children and a family.”

Yozef
patted her hand sympathetically. “It must be terribly hard for you. Most people
would imagine an attractive hetman’s daughter would have everything she could
desire and suitors beating down the doors. I’d hate to imagine you hiding who
you are to fit roles not of your own choosing.”

Maera,
to her astonishment, found herself tearing up. It was the first time anyone in
her life had come close to understanding how out of place she felt and the
conflict between being who she
was
and who she was
supposed
to
be. She placed her other hand on Yozef’s briefly, then withdrew it and tried to
change the subject.

“These
cheeses are a specialty of the district. The brownish one doesn’t look good,
but put a piece on your tongue and just let it sit there until all the flavors
come out.” She reached past him for the cheese and came within a few inches of his
face. He put a hand on her shoulder, making her stop and meet his eyes. Maybe
it was the wine, the food, the perfect setting, or exposing themselves in the
last few hours, but he drew her to him and kissed her.

She
was startled and drew back slightly. When she didn’t draw back farther, Yozef pulled
her to him again and
they
, not just he, kissed. Their lips massaged each
other, first pressing urgently, then softly, then moving over each other’s
lips. Her breathing deepened, as he drew her tighter until they pressed
together from waist up. A hand that had been stroking her back moved slowly
across her side to a breast. Maera jerked back suddenly and jumped to her feet.