by Dawn Cook
“Dancing,” Beast said wistfully, loud enough to reach Lodesh’s thoughts.
“Dancing?” Lodesh caught his breath.
Alissa’s face went cold. “Shut up!” she hissed into her mind, but it was too late.
“Strell doesn’t dance?” he asked, but it was more of an exuberant statement, and he jumped to his feet, looking down at Alissa. “I dance! Are you rested? Let’s go!”
Her heart thumped at the thought of his arms around her through the steps of a dance, closer than he really ought to be. “I, uh . . . My foot still hurts,” she blurted.
“You just said it didn’t. Ashes, Alissa. I think they would have cleared the dance boards for us to finish that last one alone if I hadn’t misstepped and thrown you off your beat.” His enthusiasm dimmed. “You don’t want to dance with me anymore,” he said, sounding hurt.
“Of course I do,” Alissa protested, knowing Lodesh had nothing to do with her falling out of beat. “It’s simply—there are so many people.”
“It didn’t bother you before.” He sank down to a crouch. “I think you’re afraid. I think you’re afraid they will clear the boards for us, and everyone will be watching us dance alone.”
“I’m not afraid!” Alissa said, and Lodesh grinned in challenge. “Well, maybe I am afraid,” she admitted, but not for what he thought. Lodesh slumped. He looked so unhappy, she couldn’t leave him like that. “Maybe,” she offered hesitantly, “if we danced here, instead?”
Immediately he brightened, giving credence to her growing suspicion that dancing in the shadows might not be a good idea; he looked far too eager. “Next round,” he said, settling back.
Alissa looked slyly at him. The music was low and coaxing. She knew this tune. It was the introduction to a complicated number that required careful forethought of partners. Even as Alissa watched, the buzz of participants were finding each other, arranging themselves, shifting as more threesomes decided they would attempt it. Many would start. Very few would last to the end, exhaustion and a lack of finesse bringing them down. It was harder on the musicians. Her pride was still stinging from her admission of fear, so it was with no surprise she heard herself say, “Why not this one?” A rumble of drums rose and faded, and she shivered.
Lodesh froze. Slowly he turned. “You know the Triene?”
Alissa smiled at his surprise. “My mother taught me.”
He was clearly doubtful, shaking a blond curl from his eyes. “We’ve only two people.”
“So you play two parts.” Alissa stood and pulled him to his feet. The pace of the music was increasing. It had almost begun. “I’ll be the fair maid,” Alissa said, “and you will be—”
“The dashing hero!”
“Actually,” she said. “I thought the dastardly villain. He shows up first.”
Lodesh frowned. “That’s the hero in my version. Perhaps we should compare stories.”
Alissa softly clapped in time, waiting for the dance to begin. Her pulse quickened, and she felt Beast stir. Beast ought to enjoy this. It was very much like flying.
“Here it comes,” he warned as a stringed instrument took precedence. “Three, two, one!”
They began, stepping carefully so as not to mar Reeve’s moss. From the dancing boards, the sound of synchronized boots hitting wood came strong, and the watchers cheered. “Well, the fair maid is in the hills,” Alissa said, the soft thumps of her feet in time with the noisy ones from the dancing boards. She twirled, picking nonexistent flowers in a circle about a stationary Lodesh. He started to clap, the music to pick up speed.
“Yes,” he agreed. “So far it’s the same.” He watched her, making a sharp nod as the complexity of Alissa’s footwork increased with the volume of music. His pleased expression said she would be a suitable partner, as skilled as he. His smile shifted from evaluation to appreciation, and Alissa felt a thrill of something dart through her. It was more satisfying with real musicians and not her mother’s breathless humming mixed with helpless laughter.
Alissa’s steps grew subdued, mirroring the music. “And she gets lost,” Lodesh said.
“Ha!” Alissa said. “In my story, she wanders too far to get home before dark and simply has to make camp.” Her circle became wider. On the dance floor, there were laughs and shouts. People were getting in each other’s way. It was a tricky dance, and there had to be eight pairs on the dance floor. But that, apparently, was half the fun.
Lodesh began to mimic her as she circled. Strike for strike, his feet met the sound of the drums’ pulse. The pace was already faster than what she was used to, and it was only going to get worse. On the dance boards, one couple bowed out, accompanied by friendly jeers and calls. The gap was closed, and seven continued on.
Weaving an elaborate pattern of twists and stomps, Lodesh moved from her left to her right, but always behind her. “Then she’s found,” he said breathlessly, drawing close. “And is swept off her feet,” and he did just that.
Alissa gasped, then laughed in delight to cover her surprise. There were shouts from the dancing boards, and two more couples retreated. “My mother never taught me that version,” Alissa said with a giggle as her feet lightly touched the moss, and they proceeded with the daring challenge and answer of footwork.
Lodesh’s eyes were fixed upon hers. “Ah,” he said, his breath coming fast. “Perhaps it’s unique to Ese’Nawoer.”
“I think it’s unique to you,” she shot back. She wasn’t thinking any longer. She had only time to react.
“What happens next?” Lodesh whispered.
Alissa moved closer so he could hear her breathless words, never slowing. “The villain—a fallen nobleman—escorts her to his humble holdings and tries to convince her to stay.”
It was Lodesh’s turn for a solo dance, and as Alissa’s footwork eased so as to catch her breath, her mouth fell open in awe. He had been holding back. “By the Hounds,” Alissa breathed, astounded.
It was a free-for-all on the dance boards as the remaining couples tried to outdo each other. The sound of slamming feet and clapping hands was a physical force, but she couldn’t look from Lodesh to see. Lodesh, ever mindful of the moss, was less extravagant in his footfalls, but he more than made up for it with his fervent looks. His eyes had locked upon hers almost hungrily as he circled. Alissa felt Beast respond as their pulse beat in time with the drums. By the sounds of it, three more couples had left the circle, exhaustion pulling them down.
Lodesh glided in stealthy, ever-tightening loops, his motions becoming more seductive. Alissa spun to keep him in her sight, her breath fast. “Then what?” he whispered, his words warm and quick upon her cheek as he drew close and then away.
“They dance together as she thinks it over,” she said, suddenly uneasy.
“That’s what they do in my story, too,” he said as he took her hands, and her feet instinctively did what was expected of them.
On the circle, the music and the crowd grew subdued and darkly expectant. The pipes dropped to a low thrum, and the drums fell to a low cadence that steadily grew.
Alissa’s fingers never left Lodesh’s. The drums beat. Her pulse pounded. Her breath came fast as she strove to keep up with him. Her feet moved in time with his, feeling herself begin to slip. Just as she felt she could bear it no longer, he spun her into a wild turn that ended with her in his arms, crushed against him.
Lungs heaving, Alissa stared wide-eyed at him, her hands clamped firmly upon his shoulders, his around her waist. They stood unmoving as the music broke in a communal shout from the boards, and the dance continued without them, pounding, and pounding.
“And then?” he breathed, his eyes wild and his breath fast.
Her mind went blank, lost in his arms and his gaze and his presence. “Um . . .” she stammered, trying to drop her eyes, but Lodesh refused to let go. “The hero, her love, who has been searching for her, finds them. She must choose.”
Lodesh never loosened his grip, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted hi
m to. “In my version,” he said huskily, “that would be the villain.” His eyes were deep with an unspoken question. “There are no villains here.”
Behind them, the remaining couples were joined by their last participants. The music crashed to nothing. Silence broke upon the circle, aching in her ears after the thunderous fall of drums. But the dance wasn’t over. A single, mournful pipe rose as the maiden made her decision. The outcome was different every time. It was up to the dancers, and the watchers waited in breathless anticipation.
The moon had risen above the trees. As if drawn from its presence, the mirth flowers began to fall, spilling down like light itself. A sigh of emotion rose from the people as they realized it. The intoxicating scent of the mirth trees crashed over them.
Alissa’s eyes widened. Lodesh was going to propose, and at that instant, she didn’t know if she could say no!
“Student!” Redal-Stan’s thought came shocking into hers. “Come home. Now!”
“I—I have to go,” Alissa heard herself mumble, not moving from Lodesh’s arms.
Lodesh’s eyes went wide. “Wait,” he said urgently. “It’s not what you think.”
“Now,” Connen-Neute whispered into her thoughts. “If we’re late, they won’t let us into the quorum.”
“Lodesh,” Alissa protested mildly. “I have to go.”
“Alissa, if you’re not airborne by the count of twelve, you lose your vote. One. Two. Three.”
“I have to go,” she repeated, but she couldn’t pull away. She felt Connen-Neute slide behind her. Lodesh’s grip tightened, and his eyes flicked briefly over her shoulder.
“I know,” he said, clearly distressed by the Master’s presence but determined to continue, “that your heart has been lost to another. I can’t battle with a phantom and hope to win. You must banish him yourself. I won’t ask anything of you tonight, but Alissa?” His eyes went deep into her, pulling into existence a surprising response. “I will—someday.”
A flower drifted onto her shoulder and he reached for it, placing it into her palm and curling her numb fingers about its silky fragrance.
“Seven. Eight.”
“I have to go, Lodesh,” she said, but he didn’t hear the significance of her words.
Connen-Neute stepped closer, and Lodesh released her. His eyes did not. She stumbled after the Master as he pulled her into the field. Her gaze was on Lodesh, alone in the shadows.
“Nine.”
Nearly tripping, Alissa broke eye contact. She ran into the grass, searching for the dark in which to shift. Connen-Neute assumed his natural form, and his eyes glowed impatiently.
“Ten.”
“Wait!” she called, struggling with Keribdis’s boots, frantically tugging them off.
“Eleven.”
“I’m coming!” She shifted with a quickness she had never attempted before, snatched up the boots, and leapt into the air.
“Twelve. Did she make it, Connen-Neute?”
“Just.”
“Harrumph.”
One of Keribdis’s boots slipped from her grasp. It fell to the damp grass with a thump. Winging about, she went to find it, cursing her ineptness.
“Leave it, Alissa,” Connen-Neute said. “I’ll come back tomorrow and find it.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Alissa obediently swung herself to the west. Silently they sped to the Hold through the moonlight, her breathless thoughts remaining in the grove with Lodesh. “Beast?” she whispered. “You really feel everything I do?”
“Everything,” she said, sounding so dazed, Alissa grew more worried still.
28
Connen-Neute and Alissa sped toward the Hold. It sat like a heavy shadow at the base of the peak. Damp and comforting, the night air slipped about them like silk, the updrafts looking pearly and unreal in the almost-full moon. Beast was humming in delight to be in the air, but Alissa was worried. Her feral consciousness had never taken so much interest in what was going on. And Beast’s emotions concerning Lodesh were most disturbing. Sighing, Alissa dismissed her concerns. Perhaps it had been from the music.
Redal-Stan’s balcony blazed with a welcoming light. Alissa angled towards it, circling the tower behind Connen-Neute to lose her momentum. “Um, Connen-Neute?” she thought. “What did Redal-Stan mean when he said I might lose my vote?”
“We decide tonight who will be the next Warden.”
“We decide?” she blurted. “I thought the city decided.”
“Yes and no,” was his slow response. “Because the Warden holds sensitive wisdom, we have a say in the matter. The citadel families meet tonight to pick a candidate. So do we.”
Alissa stalled, backwinging in alarm. “Talo-Toecan is here?”
“Hounds, no. We meet by thought.”
Reassured, Alissa followed him to alight upon Redal-Stan’s balcony railing. Keribdis’s boot hit the floor with a dull thump. Alissa shifted, tugging her skirt down to cover the holes in her stockings. There was a tweak on her thoughts, and a gray pair of slippers appeared. Smiling gratefully at Connen-Neute, she jumped from the railing and slipped the oversized monstrosities on. They were lined with a gray fur, and her face warmed as she imagined what they would feel like on her bare feet.
Redal-Stan poked his head from his bedchamber. “Finally,” he muttered, running a hand over his bald head. Striding forward, he motioned for them to sit. “Come on. Come on. They’ve already begun.”
Connen-Neute stayed on the balcony. He wouldn’t fit into the room unless he shifted, but he looked content enough as he closed his golden eyes and slipped into a light trance.
Wrapped in a velvety brown throw, Redal-Stan sprawled in his chair and eyed her expectantly. “Well?” he snapped.
Alissa perched on the edge of a chair. “I have no idea what’s going on,” she admitted.
He blinked. “You’ve never joined a conference? Why not?”
“There’s only Talo-Toecan,” she reminded him, angry for having to say it aloud.
“Oh. Yes.” He dropped his eyes and plumped up the pillow in his chair. “Um, tell you what. You can’t vote, seeing as you aren’t supposed to be here. Put your thoughts lightly into mine so you can listen in. That is, unless you can hold sixty-three fields simultaneously?”
She shook her head. “Only five.”
“Five!” exclaimed Connen-Neute, his eyes flashing open in surprise. They abruptly closed at his teacher’s disapproving frown.
“It’s a start,” Redal-Stan reassured her. “Anytime you’re ready.”
Alissa settled herself and sent her thoughts to his. Immediately she felt as if she were in a large room surrounded by hundreds. She wasn’t, of course. There were only sixty-three of them, sixty-four if you counted her. It was more than slightly oppressive, as if she was being jostled and bumped by unseen shadows. Whispers and snippets of conversations slipped about the edges of her awareness, making her slightly queasy.
“There’s no help for it,” Redal-Stan whispered. “The crowding must be endured. To be heard, one must shout.
“Where,” he thundered unexpectedly, “does the vote stand?”
“It’s about time!” came a chorus of irate thoughts, and Alissa struggled to maintain Beast’s calm. She didn’t like this at all.
A firm, feminine thought cut through the babble. “Welcome, Redal-Stan. Connen-Neute has given us his vote, and so we stand at an informal count of one absence, two for Marga Stryska, eight for the abolishment of the Wardens completely, four for choosing a new Warden line, six for grooming Trook Hirdune, and forty-one for Keeper Earan Stryska.”
“Earan!” Beast cried, and Alissa shushed her, terrified Redal-Stan would hear.
“Thank you, Keribdis,” Redal-Stan said loudly, and Alissa’s fear multiplied. That strong-minded thought was Keribdis? She would spot Beast in an instant. She was trained for it!
“Soon as we know your preference,” Keribdis said, “we may commence the bargaining.”<
br />
“What about Lodesh?” Beast said clearly into the mental hush.
Alissa cringed as pandemonium erupted. “Lodesh? Lodesh Stryska?” were the cries. “You’re jesting!”
“Be still,” Redal-Stan hissed, thinking it had been her, and Alissa felt a wave of irritation from Beast, surprising and worrisome.
“Qui-i-i-iet!” Keribdis thundered, and silence fell. “Redal-Stan,” she drawled into the new hush. “Am I to understand you have brought Keeper Lodesh Stryska under consideration?”
There was a long pause. “Apparently,” he muttered, and the resulting upwelling of protests made Alissa cower.
“Very well.” Keribdis sounded peeved. “The vote is one absence, two for Marga—”
“You may as well drop your bluff,” interrupted an anonymous voice. “Marga won’t have the presence of mind to administer to a city when her children go shaduf.”
An angry thought snapped, “It’s wrong. Sati is all the shaduf we need. The union between the Stryska line and the coast should have been postponed.”
Postponed? Alissa thought. Marga’s children shaduf? What is going on?
“. . . eight to abolish the Warden post completely,” Keribdis continued.
“There’s a good idea,” came a sarcastic thought.
“. . . four for choosing a new Warden line . . .”
“Even better!” someone shouted.
“. . . six for young Trook, forty-one for Earan, and one— for—Lodesh.” Keribdis seemed to take a deep breath. “Any voluntary changes in the order? No? Then—”
“Wait.” Connen-Neute’s familiar thought came clearly, sounding subdued but determined. “I change my vote from Marga to Lodesh.”
The gathered rakus stirred, and Alissa felt the beginnings of unease in her. Earan could have the title. Lodesh’s life would be changed for the better. She had been a coward for keeping silent before. What was her life compared to the untold misery of Ese’Nawoer?
“I change mine to Lodesh as well,” another piped up.
“Me, too.”
Hot protests and sharp accusations rose loud, and Alissa wished she could cover her ears.