He glanced to the tower, proud against the sky—proud and empty. Then he looked to the road ahead, stretching northward.
Before much longer, the enclosures of the dustcat works appeared on his right, long low buildings of weathered wood that looked as though they would collapse under a high wind, although they had not, not in years of winter winds out of the north and off the plateau. The dustcat works—another structure whose like he had not seen elsewhere, raising yet another question.
How could anything justify the torques—and the purple evilness behind them? Yet… when he saw the houses in Iron Stem, the Pleasure Palace, the dustcat works… saw them all for what they were for the first time… he could understand the impulses that had created the torques.
Even in the warm afternoon sun, he shivered, if slightly, before shifting his weight in the saddle. There was Wendra—and his family—they had to be as he had remembered them. Didn't they?
He could feel a rider approaching. He studied the eternastone pave ment that seemed to stretch endlessly to the north, making out a dark figure moving swiftly southward toward him. The single militia rider—a messenger from the green sash slung over his black tunic—rode closer and closer. The trooper glanced toward him, apparently taking in the uniform and insignia, then slowed his mount.
'Good day, trooper," Alucius called.
'Sir…" The rider's eyes opened. "Sir? Weren't you with Third Company?"
'I was. That was several years ago. I've just been promoted to captain of Twenty-first Company."
'Congratulations, sir." The messenger paused. "Beggin' yer pardon, sir… weren't you wounded pretty bad at Soulend?"
'I was left for dead," Alucius replied. "I wasn't." He didn't recognize the man, but there were certainly those in Third Company he had not met.
'Thought it must have been something like that, sir." The messenger nodded. "Thank you, sir." He nodded yet again and urged his mount southward.
Alucius could sense the combination of fear and awe. What had so troubled the trooper? Troopers were wounded. Some died, and some survived. Alucius had been lucky, as some troopers were, yet the messenger had clearly recognized him and been more than a little surprised to see him. And frightened.
Was it just because his head wounds had looked so bad? That had to have been it. Even though he nodded to himself, he wondered.
It was nearing late afternoon when he turned off the north-south road to take the lane to the stead. After the messenger, he had seen no one on the road, no one at all, but that was as it always was. The quarasote lands were empty.
The stead lane was rutted, not any worse than he remembered it, and dusty, but not so dusty as the mountain logging roads near Zalt. Still, he must have raised enough dust, because as he neared the stead, he could make out the figures of Wendra and his mother, both standing at the foot of the steps before the stead house, and that of his grandsire on the porch, leaning on the railing.
He couldn't help but smile as he rode up to them. All three of them were smiling as well, but his mother's face was lined and weathered, more so than he had recalled. Wendra's face was finer, more refined, and, without a word, in a long single glance, he could sense that she had been on the stead almost the entire time he had been gone. Her brown hair was shorter, but more lustrous, and the greenish gold eyes were deeper, more intent—and deep flashes of green—herder green—ran through her life thread and being. She was no longer a girl, but a woman, and one who had been waiting for him, believing in him.
'I'm back. It took longer." For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then Alucius dismounted. He had to drop the reins as Wendra's arms went around him.
'You came back. No one does, but you did." Her words were smothered, and her face was damp.
Alucius didn't care as he held her, and as their lips met. The shock of their meeting was as intense as if both life webs had melded.
When they finally parted, Alucius turned and stepped toward his mother, giving her a long and gentle hug. "I didn't mean to worry you, but I did promise I'd come back."
'You did," she murmured. A smile appeared. "You'd best have time to get married."
'A month, and we will, if Wendra"—he looked to the golden-eyed woman—"will still have me."
'I will." She smiled softly. "How could it be otherwise?"
Roy alt stood at the top of the steps and called out. "Well… I see they recognized some value in you." His grandsire was still tall and straight, but far more gaunt than Alucius had recalled. "A captain yet. They didn't let you out?"
'No. Colonel Clyon gave me full credit for time served, but that still leaves almost two years."
'They let young Vardial out earlier." Royalt shook his head. "We can talk about that later. It's just good that you're home."
'I'm glad to be here. Let me get Wildebeast stabled…"
'I'll do it—" began Lucenda.
'I can do it," Alucius replied. "You can tell me everything I've missed."
'There's not that much… little changes on the stead…"
Alucius led Wildebeast away from the steps and back down to the stable, and inside, taking the third stall on the right, one clearly cleaned recently, and readied for him. He glanced from the clean stall to Wen-dra.
She flushed. "I wanted everything to be ready for you… once we heard."
'Grandma'am…" Alucius said slowly.
'She… held on… until about a month ago… None of us expected she would live that long," Lucenda said slowly. "Your grandfather couldn't explain it."
'That…" Alucius had trouble speaking for a moment. "That was when I started back from Zalt… but I didn't know…"
'She did," Lucenda said quietly.
Alucius swallowed.
'How did… don't the Matrites have silver collars?" Wendra ventured.
'They did." Alucius loosened the girth. "I'll tell you all about it when we go inside. Grandfather will want to hear it."
'He will," affirmed Lucenda.
'Lamb will be glad to see you," Wendra said after a silence.
'How is he?"
'He's getting old. He doesn't lead the flock anymore," Lucenda said. "We let him graze the nearer quarasote during the day."
Alucius understood the underlying message there as well. He racked the saddle and the saddle blanket, and then began to brush Wildebeast.
'He's gentle for a stallion," Lucenda offered.
'Only around me, or so they say."
Grooming Wildebeast and making sure of the stallion's feed and water seemed to take a glass, but it was less than half that when the three walked toward the house. Alucius carried the saddlebags with the new uniforms inside—and the screen scarf that he had carried a thousand vingts.
'It is good to be here." Alucius motioned for his mother to go up the steps to the porch first. "It's different. Nothing's changed, and yet everything has."
From the porch where he had waited, Royalt laughed, a sound of amusement and rue. "Could have told you that. Every trooper who comes home after a long time away feels the same way. It changes you."
Alucius could feel Wendra stiffen, and could sense her sudden concern. He leaned toward her ear and whispered, "It hasn't changed what's between us."
And it hadn't—that he also knew, knowing as well that, as his experiences had changed him, so had Wendra's work on the stead changed her.
Wendra did not reply, but Alucius could feel her relax, if not completely.
'You look older," Royalt observed.
'I am," Alucius replied. "Two years."
'Older than that." His grandfather offered a wistful smile. "Wish Veryl had been able to see you. She knew you were coming home."
Alucius nodded. He wasn't surprised, but he still felt the emptiness when he thought about his grandmother.
'There's a stew in there," Lucenda said, "and it won't be long before it's ready. I'd have had something grander—
'Except you didn't know when I was coming," Alucius said with a
laugh, half forced. "A good stew would be wonderful."
'You can eat—you need to eat after that long ride—and you can tell us everything."
'There's a lot to tell." Alucius wasn't about to recount it all, not at the moment, and perhaps never, but, when they were alone, he would tell his grandsire about the crystal, the torques, and the Matrial. Royalt deserved that, and so did Wendra.
'You can start," said Royalt.
'Yes, sir." Alucius grinned as he followed the others into the house.
The dinner was outstanding, stew or not, but the narration Alucius offered before, during, and after the meal was a slight strain, because while he did tell them about the Matrial's death and the failure of the torques, he did not tell all the details, nor did he ever intend to, not for years, and perhaps not ever. Without a word passing between them, he also knew none of them needed the details about Dysar's death.
His grandsire nodded several times, but did not offer a single word or question about either aspect of his tale, and, finally, Alucius and Wendra escaped the house—or, Alucius reflected, were allowed to leave. For several long moments, they stood on the porch, looking at the Aerial Plateau, looming large in the east, its crystal edge shimmering in the light of both moons.
Alucius turned and looked at Wendra, wearing the green scarf that somehow brought out her eyes, as he had known it would.
'I'll always treasure it."
Alucius blinked.
'The scarf." She smiled.
So would he, if for slightly different reasons. He offered his arm. "I'd like to walk a bit."
They walked north, arm in arm, and then westward, away from the house. The slightest of breezes had begun to whisper out of the north, bringing with it the faint sweet scent of blooming quarasote, a harbinger of the coming harvest season.
'I'm glad you've been here." Hearing an old echo in his own words, Alucius stopped and studied Wendra, taking in her face, as he had once so many years before, seeing this time not a girl, but a woman.
“So am I.”
'You belong here."
'With you…yes." Wendra paused. "Do you remember the last time we were herePThere was only Selena, and a star where Asterta is now."
'You asked me to look, to see how beautiful it was," Alucius said. "You were worried that your father would call you."
'You do remember."
'It's more beautiful now." Alucius fell silent, wondering about what he needed to say, but finally spoke. "You don't mind getting married… with me still being in the militia?"
She laughed, softly, warmly, turning to him. "I'd mind much more not getting married now. Life goes on. It doesn't wait for the perfect moment. I'd feel more like I was helping you by being here."
Their lips touched.
As they held each other in the summer evening, Alucius could feel once more the dark webs of life entwining, not as a shock, but a flow that was meant to be, that would be, and would continue to grow stronger as the years passed.
A pale silver-green radiance flowed over them… a radiance that bore warmth of a sort.
They both fell away from each other, looking to the east where the soarer hovered, seemingly halfway between both moons, her delicate winged figure suspended between the evening sky and the bare ground, her eyes fixed upon the couple.
Green radiance… Alucius felt both warmed and chilled within. The silver-green radiance had surrounded him on three occasions, although this was the first time he had seen the soarer. The first had been just before he had been struck down at Soulend, the second when he had destroyed the purple crystal… and now… with Wendra.
They both watched the soarer.
'She's smiling…" murmured Wendra. "She is… as if you're the soarer's child."
Soarer's child? That was a nursery rhyme. Still, he could sense the warmth projected by the soarer, although he would not have called her expression a smile. "She wishes us well, I think."
'You can tell that?"
Alucius did not answer, instead watching the soarer, seeking an answer he knew he would not get. Instead, the radiance diminished, and then, suddenly, the soarer was gone.
Wendra turned to Alucius, inquiring, but not speaking.
'We're meant to be together," Alucius said with a smile. "The soarer means that nothing can tear our spirits apart."
The second time they kissed, there was only the light of the stars—and the two moons.
Legacies Page 57