The Moonshawl

by Storm Constantine

  The letters from Malakess had perhaps been preserved because they were ‘evidence’ of discussions that had taken place back then. They were dated, so I read them in order.

  Dear Kinnard

  I’ve thought more about your suggestion that the Wyvachi should return to Meadow Mynd and restore it. I understand your reasons for wanting to make it your headquarters. I agree that while we are striving to create a new society, hara will feel comfortable with familiarity, what they already know and respect and, as you rightly pointed out, Meadow Mynd has been the heart of the community in your area for a long time. My only reservations stem from the fact that these connections were established in the Human Era and part of me feels such ties should be cut completely. But as the Mynd offers so much opportunity to help hara create a new community in the area, not least its established farmland, I’m prepared to put my reservations aside in this case. I liked your analogy of how, in the distant past, religions seeking to suppress previous belief systems built their churches over existing sacred sites, in order that people would feel comfortable with the new, and that your situation is similar. Indeed it is, and I see the wisdom in your decision. Please take this letter as formal permission to return to Meadow Mynd and establish your phyle there.

  Your concerns about Mossamber har Whitemane will be addressed, but if I am to step in and take your side in these negotiations, you must be willing to compromise. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that Mossamber and his hara were instrumental in securing this area for us, and for that alone they deserve compensation and the granting of their own desires for the future. While my fellow commanders and I feel that the Wyvachi are the best candidates to lead in the Gwyllion area, this must be with the co-operation of the Whitemanes and their inclusion in plans and decisions for the community. The only object of importance is the development of Wraeththu in Alba Sulh. Personal issues must be put aside.

  I will call on you next week for further discussions. My aide will send you a message as to the exact day and time. Please invite Mossamber and his highest-ranking hara to join us. I think this would mean a lot coming from you, rather than me, and will perhaps do something to calm the troubled waters between you. Give Mossamber his due, Kinnard. Don’t let pride stand in your way.

  In blood

  Malakess har Sulh

  First Commander of the West

  Well, I could certainly hear Malakess’s voice in that letter. It had to be the same har. I smiled, wondering if he’d ever been a fierce young thing. Somehow I found it difficult to imagine, but no doubt hara thought the same about me and many others like me. We had glossed our histories with a thick pigment of respectability, and whatever Malakess might have lived through, as he’d fought to establish Wraeththu in this area, in his letter it was plain he had already been striving to be something other than a wild warrior. He’d wanted to be a politician, not a tribal chief.

  There were other letters and documents detailing arrangements for various hara in the area concerning the allocation of land and similar matters, none of which had much to interest me. But then came a missive decidedly more appetising.

  Dear Kinnard

  I cannot, in all conscience, involve myself in the personal matter upon which you requested my jurisdiction. While I appreciate that you and several members of your erstwhile human family comprise the leadership of your phyle, I must remind you that human ties have no bearing on your situation now. Medoc is your fellow har, as are those who were previously your cousins. You are all part of one family –Wraeththu. And this includes the Whitemanes.

  The circumstances you described to me are essentially the province of Mossamber har Whitemane. He was Peredur’s chesnari, and as such is responsible for making decisions that Peredur is no longer able to make. That is all I have to say on the matter, and pray that you will put history aside and respect the wishes of your fellow hara as they are now.

  You have my condolences, and I understand that your abrupt letter to me reflected the pain you feel, but nevertheless I feel strongly that this matter is outside my area of authority.

  In blood

  Malakess Har Sulh

  First Commander of the West

  I read this letter out to Rinawne.

  He grimaced. ‘They wanted Peredur back, didn’t they?’ he said. ‘That’s what the letter says to me. Remember what you heard Medoc say to Wyva at Cuttingtide. Mossamber thought he was liberating a corpse.’

  Since the festival, I’d told Rinawne everything I’d heard during that conversation. ‘There’s also another implication in those words,’ I said, ‘namely that Peredur wasn’t dead when Mossamber liberated him... whatever that means. But from what I heard at Cuttingtide, the Wyvachi and the Wyverns are sure Peredur didn’t survive, but perhaps he died later from his injuries.’

  ‘So maybe Kinnard asked this Malakess to intervene because Mossamber refused to give up the... remains.’

  I nodded. ‘It could be read that way, yes.’

  Rinawne gave me a curious look. ‘Could this be why Peredur is not at rest?’

  ‘And that all we need to do is bring him back to the Mynd for reburial?’ I grimaced. ‘Seems too simple. Plus his body might have been cremated.’

  Rinawne pantomimed a shudder. ‘Or it could be preserved at Deerlip Hall, forever enshrined – a dried out mummy. All the Whitemanes worship it.’

  ‘Thank you for that image,’ I said dryly.

  ‘I think it’s entirely possible,’ Rinawne said, grinning.

  ‘Maybe you’re on the right track. Wyva said he suspected there was some kind of shrine to Peredur at Deerlip. I thought he was speaking metaphorically, but perhaps not. It could explain the Whitemanes’ sensitivity over Peredur.’

  Rinawne gave me a hard glance. ‘Nytethorne said something, then?’

  I didn’t want to tell Rinawne what I’d seen at the Pwll Siôl Lleuad earlier, because I sensed that revealing I’d met Nytethorne again would bring on a dark mood. ‘Well, not in so many words. I tried to talk about Peredur, but Nytethorne got defensive about it. I’ve already told you the meeting I had with him was difficult.’

  Rinawne sniffed in a surly manner. ‘Read the other letters. These will be the meat of it, I’m sure. The ones from Medoc.’

  Medoc, it appeared, had tried five times to communicate with his brother and had then given up. Or if he had continued to try, those letters had not been preserved.

  My dear brother,

  Too much time has passed since we saw one another. I trust you and your hara are in good health. I have no way of knowing, yet am certain if anything bad had befallen you, I would’ve heard from somehar.

  I had hoped you might try to contact me, but now, after two years have passed, I realise I must be the one to make the advance. You are in my thoughts constantly. I know you must believe I betrayed and abandoned you, and that I seduced our cousins into leaving the Mynd with me, but the truth is every har who came with me that day felt it was the right thing to do. I didn’t have to persuade them. That was our decision, and we stand by it, but I respect yours too, and appreciate why you stand by it in the same way.

  We have founded our phyle at an old domain named Harrow’s End, some miles over the county border to the east. Things are going well for us, if slowly, but we are content. You would be most welcome here at any time, and even if we cannot reconcile our differences in terms of where our hara should live, I hope at least we can mend our relationship.

  To this day, I’m not sure what I really experienced that night at the Mynd, but I knew then, and still know now, that I cannot live in that place. I admire that you have the strength to carry on there, despite everything that happened. I know you are right: It is our domain, but all I questioned was the rights of the dead, as it was theirs too. Perhaps you don’t want to hear my excuses, as you’ll no doubt call them, but I feel I want to explain and wish we could speak face to face. Please let me know if we can meet, if only halfway between our domains.

 
In blood and in love,

  Your brother, Medoc

  The second letter was around four months later.

  My dear brother, Kinnard,

  I’m saddened you didn’t respond to my letter and apologise if anything in it gave offence. I wish only to see you again, and to meet your son. Summer is blooming here and I thank the spirits of the land that I live amid such beauty and peace. Please come to visit us. We don’t even have to speak of the past, but only of now and the future, the time for our sons. We have gone through too much together to remain estranged.

  In blood and in love,

  Your brother, Medoc

  The third letter indicated Medoc still hadn’t received a response from Kinnard, but he didn’t mention this. He spoke only of his land, of his hara, and the way his community was developing. The fourth letter was similar. I wondered whether Kinnard, reading these letters, had envied Medoc his peace and liberty, and for this reason couldn’t bring himself to make contact. Perhaps he didn’t want the greater part of his family to have escaped the malediction and to be living happily free of it elsewhere. The fifth letter was different and was dated some seventeen years after the previous four.

  My dear Kinnard,

  Forgive that I write to you again after so long, for I realise you must have no wish to hear from me, but word has come to us of Yvainte’s passing, and I had to contact you. Please know that my heart breaks as yours must be broken in losing your beloved chesnari. I am so sorry that such a light has left us under such tragic circumstances. My domain is always open to you. Know that you can arrive here at any time of day or night and will be welcomed, without questions being asked. Though many years have passed since we last saw one another, in some ways it feels like only a few days ago. If you want me now, I am here. I will always be here for you.

  In blood and in love,

  Your brother, Medoc

  After I’d read the letter aloud, both Rinawne and I were silent for some moments, then Rinawne said, ‘That’s so sad. I wonder what happened?’

  I sighed, shook my head. ‘Well, whatever happened, one thing’s certain: Kinnard was stubborn as a mule.’

  ‘Maybe he did go to see Medoc.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘He kept the letters,’ Rinawne said wistfully, picking up the last one.

  ‘We’ll learn more when we visit Medoc ourselves,’ I said, gathering the documents into a neat pile.

  ‘You know...’ Rinawne said, ‘I wonder whether Mossamber has kept correspondence from Malakess too. If so, they might shed more light on the Peredur aspect.’ He glanced at me. ‘Much as I hate to suggest this: Would Nytethorne help with that, do you think? Would he look for you?’

  I uttered a scornful laugh. ‘Has anything I’ve said indicated Nytethorne would in any way be helpful?’

  ‘No, not in what you’ve said,’ Rinawne replied sharply. ‘I was just thinking. There’s nothing to be lost in asking and perhaps something to gain. Maybe it’s time I made contact with Nytethorne. It could be up to us pureborns to put the past to rest.’

  My entire body went cold at the thought of Rinawne blundering in, messing things up. ‘No, don’t do that,’ I said.

  He gave me a severe glance.

  ‘Well, not yet. It’s delicate. Let’s talk with Medoc first.’

  ‘I don’t think you’re being direct enough,’ Rinawne said, ‘you just shilly shally around with Nytethorne. He might respond better to somehar being straight and open.’

  ‘I have been straight and open,’ I retorted, feeling my face grow hot at the memory of throwing Nytethorne up against a door.

  Rinawne regarded me speculatively. ‘Uh huh.’

  ‘Please, Rin, let’s concentrate on Medoc for now. I don’t want a dozen cans of worms opened, emptied, and wriggling around in a great big mess.’

  He narrowed his eyes at me. ‘Do you question my ability to be diplomatic?’

  ‘Quite frankly, yes,’ I said. ‘Rin, you’ve no idea how awkward Nytethorne is. He doesn’t really want to speak to any of us at all.’

  ‘But can’t stop himself speaking to you, of course. Any excuse for that.’

  I put my head in my hands for a moment. This reminded me painfully of similar arguments I’d had with Jass in the past. ‘Please stop this. It’s nothing to do with what we need to concentrate on.’

  ‘You’ve seen him more than once, haven’t you?’

  I stared at Rinawne for some moments. I couldn’t be bothered to lie and have to try and cover it up. ‘Since I’ve been in Gwyllion – four times. On three of those occasions, we’ve spoken for... oh, at the most a scandalous fifteen minutes, at the least a rather tense five minutes, during which he accused me of making things up. So, there we are. The extent of my relationship with Nytethorne. Are you happy now?’

  I wondered then whether Rey had ever endured a similar conversation to this.

  Rinawne put the letters and documents back into his satchel, his face pinched. ‘I only asked.’

  ‘And I only answered. Thank you for bringing the letters over, Rin. I think we’ve learned a lot.’

  He nodded vaguely. ‘I’ll get them back now.’

  ‘Yes, you’d better.’

  Rinawne hooked the satchel over his shoulder, looking down on me where I sat at the table. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

  I made a gesture with both hands to indicate acceptance of the apology, but said nothing in return.

  After Rinawne had left, I was in no mood to continue working. I was furious he’d disrupted my day, even though he’d brought the letters over. I knew with a heavy certainty I had to end the physical aspect of my friendship with Rinawne, but I also knew this wouldn’t be easy. The chances of him turning spiteful on me were, I thought, great. He could ruin everything for me here. I cursed the moment I let him “have his way” with me, to use a quaint old term. But then he’d let me believe he’d wanted only a casual dalliance to liven up his life. Perhaps he had even meant it to be so, at the start. I thought of Gesaril, the hara before him, the temptations that had been offered me, which had turned out to be poisonous. I couldn’t add Nytethorne to that pathetic list. If hara needed aruna, I needed a friend who would be uncomplicated and undemanding and with whom I couldn’t possibly fall in love. I realised I’d probably have been wiser to take Gen up on his far more guarded advances. I might’ve also learned more to help me. Too late now. Here I was in the same old mess.

  Sighing, and feeling miserably sorry for myself, I made more tea. Then, I went to my nayati to calm my thoughts.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I spent the next couple of days keeping to myself. I didn’t go over to the Mynd, nor down to Gwyllion. I strolled in the woods near the tower for relaxation in between bouts of writing, and one evening even went to swim in the Afon Siôl Lleuad. The only hara I saw on my daily walks were those I didn’t know very well, who’d only offer a brief greeting before carrying on with their own business. That suited me fine.

  Each evening, I meditated in the bathroom, hoping to bring out the woman I’d glimpsed there, but even though sometimes I felt sure some kind of energy was straining to reach me, nothing manifested. The landscape held its breath, I thought, remote storms rolling in from the ocean. Heat was building up, stifling the air. I was relieved Rinawne kept his distance, no doubt having realised he’d annoyed me greatly – fatally, in one respect.

  I decided to wait until the weekend, then break the silence and visit the Mynd. I didn’t want Wyva thinking anything was amiss. I would take him what I’d written, because my Reaptide rite should be complete by then. I could also discuss with him my plans for Myv’s training. Rinawne I would deal with as the opportunity arose. If he went so far as to inform Wyva of our relationship, then I’d have to deal with that too and claim I’d been misled, and that once I’d realised my mistake I’d ended the arrangement. As a har, Wyva should accept that – I hoped. If not, well... if I was meant to be here, as I thought, then nothing would impede my ability
to carry on my investigations. I had to trust in that. Having made these decisions, I felt greatly relieved.

  On Hanisday, I decided to ride over to Hiyenton, the town nearest to Gwyllion, take lunch there and walk around. It was a busier place than Gwyllion, being a market town. After I’d browsed all the stalls of the indoor section, buying myself some candles for my nayati, some night-scented stocks to plant outside my tower, and also a couple of small clocks to add to my bathroom collection, I wandered to the large inn I’d noticed on my arrival and where I’d arranged to have Hercules stabled for a few hours – The Swan with Two Necks. The name was so intriguing, I couldn’t lunch anywhere else. The place was ancient, and its ceilings dipped like the backs of old mares. It was full of hara, all talking loudly. Hemp smoke thickened the air. Two fiddlers played fast and complex tunes that wove through the hubbub. As I made my way through the throng to the bar, I found myself jostled up against a har I knew: Nytethorne. He stared at me in disbelief for some moments, and I expect I looked at him in the same way.

  Then he said, ‘Ysobi,’ and I responded ‘Nytethorne.’

  It was then I realised he had Ember with him, who was regarding me with a quizzical expression on his face. Do I move on or say more? I wondered.

  ‘You see, he lived,’ Ember said in a sarcastic tone, patting his hostling’s shoulder in the place where it had been wounded.

  I smiled. ‘Unless he’s a very convincing ghost, yes.’

  ‘Shut it,’ Nytethorne said to his son, although I could see plainly he was relieved Ember had spoken.