tales of the latter kingdom 08 - moon dance

by Christine Pope

  The clearing gleamed under the moon’s white orb. No sooner had the girls formed themselves into the usual circle than I caught a glint of silver, and Reynar stepped out from between the trees. His features reflected resignation, along with a certain weary amusement.

  “My lady, if we keep meeting like this, I am sure people will begin to talk.”

  I flashed a grin at him. “I would agree with you, sir, except that we have no observers to our conversations, unless you can count my cousins. But since they cannot recall the next morning what they have been up to, let alone what I have done, I cannot say that they would make the most reliable of witnesses.”

  “I suppose you are right.” He pointed at a fallen log, over which he’d draped a light blanket of fine wool. “Would you care to sit?”

  Well, this was an unexpected wrinkle. During our previous encounters, he had not shown much inclination to be hospitable. But perhaps he had determined that he was not going to succeed in keeping me away — or preventing me from asking questions — and so had decided he might as well be comfortable while we conversed.

  So I sat down on the log, and he followed suit. Although he took care not to position himself too close to me, he was still near enough that I could see the glint of moonlight on his heavy pale hair, could tell that his doublet was made of linen. An intriguing fragrance clung to his clothing, one that reminded me of pine needles and warm moss.

  Indeed, to sit this close was to send a little thrill through my body, although I told myself that he clearly had no intentions toward me, other than talking as we had the night before. But that would be enough…at least for now.

  “Adalynn will be married the day after tomorrow,” I said.

  “I know,” Reynar returned. “And my master has already planned for that contingency. He does not seem overly troubled.”

  “Are you going to tell me now what this spell is for?”

  “No,” he said, but his tone was so mild that I could hardly take offense. “That is my master’s business, and none of yours, Lady Iselda.”

  “I’m not Lady Iselda,” I pointed out then. “I’m no one much of anything, actually.”

  His brows — which were as dark as his lashes, startling against the pale hair and eyes — pulled together. “I would beg to differ. Perhaps you were not born of titled parents as your cousins were, but that does not diminish you in any way.”

  A flush rose in my cheeks, and I took in a breath. I could not let him see how that simple compliment had affected me. “Perhaps,” I allowed. “But still, please just call me Iselda. Surely we are friends now, after sharing confidences these past few nights?”

  “If you wish…Iselda.” He seemed to linger on my name, and again I could feel a little thrill pass through me.

  “I do wish,” I said. “And since you will not speak to me of your master, perhaps you will tell me something of yourself?”

  A flash of surprise in his silvery eyes, as if he had not thought such a subject much worthy of note. “Myself?”

  “Yes, you,” I replied. “Did you always know you were a mage? How did your master find you? Are your family like you — that is, with the same extraordinary hair and eyes?”

  If the sudden darkening of his cheeks was any indication, I was not the only one who had been made to flush. Even so, he held up a hand, as if to prevent me from asking any more questions. “No, I did not always know I had mage blood. I began to notice strange things, like whispers and voices in my mind, when I was not quite ten years old. At first I thought I was going mad, but then not long afterward, my master found me, and explained that the voices were only my powers awakening.”

  “How did he find you?” I asked, intrigued beyond all measure. These were the sorts of questions I would have liked to pose to Tobyn, my brother-in-law, but the secrecy required in my correspondence with my sister quite prevented me from making such queries.

  “Mage-born can sense other mage-born,” Reynar said. “Or at least, if the blood is strong enough, then a user of magic can usually tell when he encounters another of his kind. There are many, my master says, who have some of the old blood running in their veins, but it is not strong enough that they are able to actually practice magic. All they can do is pass the talent on to their children, and perhaps one day those children will be true mage-born.”

  His answer awakened so many questions in my mind that I was not quite sure where to start. But, as my sister had been wont to point out, when you are feeling muddled, it is always best to begin at the beginning. “The old blood? What is that?”

  For a few seconds, he didn’t answer, but looked away from me so he might cast a watchful glance in the direction of the dancing women in the glade. But they moved in the same graceful formation, with only the night wind to ruffle their hair, and so he seemed satisfied as to their safety. “Once there was a race of beings known as the Althuri. No one knows precisely where they came from, only that they were not like us.”

  “‘Not like us’?” I echoed, puzzled. “What on earth do you mean?”

  “In form they were like men, only they also had great white wings. And their hair and eyes were like mine.”

  “So you have this old blood?”

  “Yes.” Reynar reached up to scratch at his left shoulder. “No wings, of course, but I fear I am quite conspicuous enough as I am.”

  I did not bother to contradict him, for he spoke only the truth. That silvery hair would attract attention wherever he went. “Is the rest of your family like you? That is, do they share the same coloring?”

  “As to that, I do not know. I was raised in the orphanage in Heathskell, for someone left me on the doorstep there when I was only a few days old. It was there that my master found me, and from there he took me. I supposed they were kind enough, or tried to be, but I believe the matrons there were frightened of me. More than once I caught them making the sign of the evil eye behind their backs when they thought I wasn’t looking.”

  “I am sorry,” I murmured.

  A casual lift of the shoulders, one that did not really fool me. “It is all right. But I’m sure you will believe me when I say that I had no regrets about leaving the orphanage and going with my master to be trained. It is no small thing, to be given a purpose.”

  No, I supposed it wasn’t. Perhaps my own underlying discontent had everything to do with not really knowing what my place in the world was supposed to be. I had been given a home, but I did not know what direction my life should take.

  Well, Lord Mayson thought he knew, but I was not quite ready to set my feet down that particular path. Especially not now, when I sat next to Reynar and listened to his low, musical voice and watched the moonlight glitter in the matching silver of his eyes.

  Because I could see a shadow of pain in his face, and knew that he did not wish to speak of his own childhood, no matter how detached he might sound, I deemed it best to guide the conversation back to a topic that was not quite as fraught with pain. “What happened to the Althuri?”

  “No one knows. Clearly, they intermingled with our own kind, but how that came to pass, and why they disappeared, no one seems to know. My master told me that there existed no gift of magic among ordinary people until their blood was blended with that of the Althuri, but that is all he knows. They are gone, lost forever in the past.”

  Even though I had only heard of these Althuri for the first time tonight, I could not help but feel a sudden twinge of sorrow at their loss. Whoever they were, they had changed mankind forever. Some might say the magic that came with their blood was no gift, for without it we would not have been embroiled in the mage wars, which had almost destroyed us all. At the same time, though, I thought the world a better place for having just a little magic in it.

  “Not lost forever,” I said quietly. “For a little of them lives on in people like you, and people like my brother-in-law.”

  “Tobyn Slade.”

  I glanced up at Reynar, startled. “You know of him?”


  His mouth quirked into a sudden smile. “Who does not know of how Tobyn Slade confronted the king to retrieve the woman he loved? Truly, it is quite the story. The witch-finders were much pleased by it, for his existence proves what they have been saying all along — that magic hides at the heart of the kingdom, and it is their task to root it out.”

  “But surely they know nothing of you,” I said quickly, overtaken by a painful little stab of fear. While I was not especially pleased that Reynar’s master thought it a good thing to summon my cousins to dance in the moonlight each night, I did not want anything to happen to the man who sat beside me…nor, perhaps, this unknown mage whose name Reynar had made sure to keep hidden. My cousins were safe, and none the worse for wear, and in a few days’ time, they would be free of this odd spell.

  “No,” Reynar replied at once, and I let out a relieved breath. “My master is very good at hiding his true nature, and makes sure he is so unexceptional that no one would ever think to look twice at him. I am somewhat more difficult to hide” — he stared down at the pale skin of his hands and shrugged ever so slightly — “but I do not live at his main residence, but rather in the place where he keeps his books of magic and other research. And also, once I was trained in their use, I can cast spells of illusion to make myself appear as something I am not.”

  “Truly?” I asked, intrigued.

  “Truly.” He did not utter the words of a spell, nor do anything else to indicate that magic was being worked, but in the next instant, a stranger sat next to me.

  I jumped. “Goodness!”

  “No fear, Iselda. It is only I.” The voice sounded like Reynar’s, and as I peered more closely at him, I could see that his features were Reynar’s as well, only now his hair and eyes were brown, and his skin tanned by the summer sun. He still appeared as a very handsome man, although I thought something was lost when he did not wear his usual silver eyes and hair.

  “I like you better the other way.”

  He chuckled, and at once the illusion was gone, and the Reynar I knew sat there next to me. “Truly? I always thought I must look like a very odd fellow.”

  “No,” I said. “For that is your real visage, and the one that suits you best.”

  The smile he wore faded, and he gazed at me for a moment without speaking. It was strange to lock stares in such a manner; the contact felt strangely intimate, but I did not look away. Indeed, once again I felt that thrill within me at his presence, as if something deep inside was trying to tell me that he was the one I had been waiting for all this time.

  Perhaps he felt it as well, for he leaned closer, our faces now scant inches from one another. I had never been this close to anyone else, except the times Mayson kissed me. I thought if Reynar had the same intentions, I would not mind nearly so much.

  The world seemed to stop as we gazed at each other. I did not move. Indeed, I feared that even taking a breath would shatter the moment, would prevent him from moving just enough closer to remove the gap between us.

  But then he pulled himself back with a sudden jerk, his hands planting themselves flat on the surface of the log. “You must go. He is on his way.”

  Oh, how I wanted to curse then, even though I had never uttered an oath in my life. This master of Reynar’s did have the most wretched timing. But I knew from my past experiences that arguing about staying would get me nowhere.

  Above us, the wind began to quicken, the leaves rustling and whispering to themselves. I took this as a sign that I should rise, which I did, even as Reynar stood along with me.

  “I will go,” I told him. “But I will come back to see you again tomorrow evening.”

  My tone was firm, which perhaps prevented him from making any protest. Even so, I saw a shadow pass over his face, just before he said, “Yes, tomorrow evening. Now go, Iselda. Please.”

  I nodded, then moved away from him and hurried down the path. Just before the ground began to dip down toward the stream, I paused for a few seconds so I might glance at him over my shoulder. He stood there, gaze fixed on me, hands clenched into fists at his sides. Then, without another word, he turned toward the glade as he prepared to meet his master.

  CHAPTER 9

  Although I certainly had had enough activity to make me fall asleep easily enough, I found that once my head touched my pillow, my thoughts continued to race, churning away at everything Reynar had told me. But even more than the astonishing revelation that mankind’s gift of magic had come from a race not even related to us was the way Reynar had gazed into my eyes, the way his lips had parted slightly during that one perfect moment.

  A moment shattered by the impending arrival of his master.

  I frowned, and turned over in bed as I searched for a more comfortable position. Reynar had been about to kiss me. I was almost certain of it. Yes, my only experience with such a thing was the one kiss Mayson and I had shared, but I had seen almost the same expression on his face just before he bent and touched his mouth to mine. Scanty evidence, true, but I was not about to disbelieve it.

  What that would have meant, if Reynar and I had kissed, I did not know. He seemed to be a few years older than I, but I had no idea how long a magical apprenticeship even lasted. Was there a point when his master would set him free to make his own place in the world? And did such an existence have any room for a wife?

  You are getting far, far ahead of yourself, I thought with some asperity as I turned over once again. For he has not kissed you, nor uttered one word to you that could not be repeated in polite company. I would not say that was grounds for making any sort of concrete plans.

  Bother.

  I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. The moon was slipping to the west, but still bright enough to illuminate the carved wooden beams above me. It would light the way home for Adalynn and Carella and Theranne and Janessa, and then disappear until its return the next evening.

  Not sure why I hadn’t thought of it before then, I realized that Adalynn’s wedding would take place on the night of the full moon. Had Aunt Lyselle and the Countess of Delmayne decided on that date because of its auspicious nature? I thought that likely enough, for my aunt rarely did anything without some premeditation.

  The door creaked and I started in my bed, then relaxed somewhat as I saw it was only Janessa returning from her nightly excursion. This was the first time I’d been awake to witness her homecoming, and I have to admit that it was odd to gaze upon her eyes, wide and blank in the fading moonlight. I stared directly at her, and yet she showed no sign of noting that I was there at all. She went directly to her bed, then bent and carefully removed her slippers, first the left and then the right. Afterward, she pulled back the covers and climbed beneath them, each movement methodical and yet with no real thought behind it, as if she were one of those cunning new toys I had seen during my last visit to the capital, odd little figures of tin that would walk with jerky movements once the key protruding from their backs had been turned.

  I saw no key here, of course, but Janessa looked as if she was being controlled in much the same way.

  A shiver passed over me, and I held my covers close, even though the room was still quite warm. Up until that moment, I had not noted anything particularly evil about the spell that had been cast. It was strange, and quite incomprehensible, but overall, it didn’t seem to be doing any real harm to Janessa or any of my cousins. Now, though, as I stared at her blank features, the way she laid herself flat on her pillow and folded her hands on her breast with precise yet somehow spasmodic movements, I began to wonder if I had been too forgiving.

  Her eyes shut, and her chest rose and fell with regular breaths. For the barest moment, I contemplated waking her to see if she recalled anything of her strange excursion. But then I decided that might not be the best of plans, for I could not be sure of her reaction. I was not certain whether she was already asleep, although she did seem to be. Or had she been asleep the whole time, even though she possessed all the appearance of being awake?
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  Another question I would have to ask Reynar. Whether or not he would give me an honest answer, I could not say.

  * * *

  All thoughts of moonlit rendezvous and girls dancing in the forest alone were driven from my head the next day, for that was when the wedding guests began to descend upon the castle in earnest. I had often wondered why a single family needed to occupy such an imposing edifice, but once everyone arrived, I realized we should be full to bursting, every spare bedroom filled with some member of the nobility and his family or entourage.

  There were some who would be coming only for the day, since they lived close enough by that it would be an easy ride, but far, far more had to come from the capital, or from far-flung estates in every corner of Purth, and so of course they must stay with us. And stay they would, through the wedding and for several days after, so they might make the most of their journey.

  My aunt, of course, was thrown into quite a state, and was nearly a blur as she went from the drawing room to the kitchen to the stillroom and back, all while making sure that everything was just so. As there was not a great deal I could do to help — save being available to fetch and carry when asked — I tried to stay out of the way as much as I could. Janessa did much the same, and the two of us sought refuge in our room while everything was in chaos below us.

  Since our chamber looked out over one of the main roads that led into the estate, she took up a position at the window so she might watch all the comings and goings…and see if any worthy young men had made an appearance.

  “There is the Baron of Linsmere,” she announced. “And his son, who is but twenty. A little young, but he seems a handsome enough man.”

  “Twenty should suit very well,” I said. “For you are but eighteen, and two years is a good span to have between a husband and wife.” And how old is Reynar? I thought then. For he seems as if he is only a few years older than I — five at the very most — and yet if he has the blood of those Althuri in him, perhaps he does not age exactly like all the rest of us.