Certainly, Dov had grown and learned. He was no longer a child struggling to claim his portion of a room or a life. Wherever he walked, it was with the graceful strength of one who knows who he is and where he belongs, aware of his surroundings and curious about anything new.
She couldn’t look at him without feeling the magnetic pull of his warmth, energy and intelligence — powers he was cultivating with her assistance. In their discussions, he often surprised her with insights that bridged perspectives that would have once been alien to him.
Yes, given the chance, he might yet become a remarkable Alleman. However, that chance would be his only if he developed the ability to navigate through the web of conflicts and conspiracies surrounding them.
The first step would be to help Dov confront some deep-seated demons, especially those related to his father. Now, more than ever, that rift must be healed, before he learned the truth of his heritage. Otherwise, it would color and corrupt everything that would follow.
After dinner, as they settled comfortably into opposite ends of the sofa, Dov seemed more subdued than usual. “Tayar, something’s been bothering me. The Allesha who was at my Signing. Do you know which one?”
“Yes.” Tayar remembered how pleased and honored she had been to have Savah oversee her first Signing. She now realized it wasn’t a loving gesture at all. Savah had her own reasons for wanting to meet the boy.
“Well, I owe her an apology,” Dov said. “You know what I was like before. So damned cocky and, well, scared. I said a few things to her I shouldn’t have.” He paused. “She told me when I was ready to apologize I should ask you to arrange for me to see her. I’m ready. Would you arrange it, please?”
Not wanting the boy to read her face, Tayar looked through the journal in her hand. “I could send a message to her tomorrow,” she said without looking up. “But she’s a very busy woman. It might be best to wait until the end of your Season.”
“Please, Tayar, I’d rather not wait that long. I’m ashamed of the way I behaved.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” she said noncommittally. Then, not wanting to discuss the matter further, she launched into the evening’s lesson, “I’ve recently found an Alleman’s journal that has some entries you’ll find particularly interesting. I’ll start with a meeting between two Allemen.” She leafed through a few pages. “Actually, not the meeting, but the way it ended.”
Dov removed Tayar’s slippers and pulled her feet onto his lap so he could massage them while she read, occasionally pushing back her slacks to caress her legs.
Finding her place, she began to read.
We agreed that given the events of the past months, Mistral should return to the west…
“Pa?” Dov’s attention was suddenly diverted from her feet to her face, astounded that she had uttered his father’s name.
She nodded and continued.
… that Mistral should return to the west, and that I would forward his report to the Alleshi. But he seemed reluctant to leave our campsite, even though he had appeared restless and anxious during our meeting. So I stoked the fire and infused more tea. We sat and sipped in silence. Only after our mugs were empty did he relax enough to talk about what was bothering him.
“I’m tired, Jared,” he said.
“Jared!” Dov exclaimed happily. “I know him. He’s one of my pa’s Triats. He’s great!”
Tayar smiled.
Mistral’s body was as straight and proud as ever, making me realize he was talking about an emotional or intellectual fatigue.
“I need to go home. Be with my family,” he said.
I tried to comfort him, but what can a few minutes with an old friend do to ease a lifetime of difficulties? After her last failed pregnancy had almost killed Shria, something had broken in Mistral. Now, his family consists only of Shria and the boy. Mistral regrets not being with them, especially with the boy, during these important years.
I think of how much my children grow every time I am gone, changing without me. It’s the natural order of things for children in their teen years to pull away from their parents. But by being away so often, we lose the opportunity to share that transition, to change with them and forge new bonds that might, if we’re lucky, carry us into their adulthood.
How much more difficult this is for Mistral. The depth of the attachment he formed with the boy in infancy is so strong it’s almost as though his heart is being ripped out of him. Yet Mistral is the one we send most often on extended missions. We need Mistral for his expertise in the Mwertik and their ways. But what is all of this doing to the boy, who lives too much without a father?
We must find a way to ease Mistral’s burden. All I could do that evening was banter with him and give him companionship, something he must do without for much of his travels. We laughed together over my son’s attempts to win his first girl, remembering our own follies. He talked with pride about how his boy was growing in stature and ability, excelling in his age group’s races and contests, especially in archery and tracking. Mistral’s smile changes when he talks about the boy. It’s lighter, yet more deeply rooted.
“You should see him, Jared.” he told me. “It’s a marvel how much Ryl looks like me.”
“Then he’ll soon be winning a few young women himself.”
When we parted, I promised to stop at his village to talk with Shria and see Ryl. I said I would try to spend some time with the boy, perhaps even take him on a hunt.
“Oh, and he did!” Dov said, his voice rising with his excitement.
“What do you remember of him?” Tayar asked.
“Jared was taller than any man I’d ever known, but he never seemed to look down at me. I didn’t understand then how he did that.”
“You do now?”
“I think it was his way of listening to me. When I spoke, he was completely with me, as though what I had to say was worthwhile.”
Tayar pictured Jared with their own children, remembering how wonderful he was with them, always making sure they understood that they were the center of his world.
“How was the hunt?” she asked.
“Great! For two days, it was just the two of us. We took down a beautiful buck and a bunch of birds.”
“What do you think about what he wrote? About how your father feels about you.”
Dov shook his head. “You don’t know what it’s like. My pa doesn’t—”
“Jared wouldn’t lie about that.”
“You know him. Jared, I mean.” It was a statement, not a question. “You love him. I can tell by the way you say his name.”
“My love isn’t the point. I’m talking about your father’s love for you.”
“I don’t blame you. Jared’s quite a man. Ma thought so, too.”
“Oh?” Tayar fought the spike of jealousy that threatened her composure, but not before the boy noticed it.
“No, Tayar, it wasn’t like that. Not for Ma. You don’t know what she’s like, how she feels about Pa.”
Once again, Tayar regretted having taught him to read her so well. She would have to learn how to better veil her thoughts around him if she ever wanted to regain any semblance of privacy.
“It was tough when Pa was gone, in a lot of ways. Some of the other men around the village tried with Ma, but not Jared. He came as Pa’s friend, and mine, too. It was nice around the house when Jared visited.” Dov stared off into his memories. “Wish he had been my father,” he said softly, almost to himself.
“Would you like to hear what Jared wrote about that visit?” she asked.
“Yes, please.”
Tayar turned a few pages, found the entry and read.
The boy, Ryl, is quick and lively. Mistral is right; he does remind me of Mistral, not just in his demeanor and appearance, but in his mischievous ways and frequent challenges to authority. If we can harness his innate power, he will be a worthy Alleman.
After I helped resolve some conflicts in the Council, I took Ryl on a hunt. As Mistral s
aid, the boy has considerable skills in the woods and at the bow. He’s already showing signs of becoming a master tracker. When he has the opportunity, I’ve no doubt he’ll be quite a rifleman.
Unfortunately, Ryl carries a huge burden that affects everything he does and thinks. The boy is convinced that he’s to blame for the death of the last child Shria carried.
“Hey, that’s not true!”
“Let’s hear what Jared wrote. Then you can refute it, if you wish.”
Her most recent miscarriage came while Mistral was away on a mission, unable to return in time for the winter, although he had promised he would make it home before the snows. I’m not sure I fully understand the boy’s convoluted logic, but he is unable to forgive himself for his inability to save the baby and protect the mother, just as he’s unable to forgive Mistral for not being there when they needed him.
Dov fidgeted, but didn’t say anything.
“I found it impossible to root it out of him in the short time we had together. But I fear it will cause him to distort his love for Mistral into anger. For what is that love if not a betrayal of the baby and mother?”
Tayar closed the journal and looked at Dov expectantly. But he didn’t react or even glance at her. “What do you think about what Jared wrote?” she asked.
“Ma almost bled to death. I found her and ran for the Healer. But as soon as he saw how she was, he threw me out of the house.” A shiver of tension shot through his body. “If my pa had been there, he could have helped, but not me. I was useless.”
“Undoubtedly, Shria would have lost the child, whether Mistral had been with her or not.” Tayar sat up, and moving closer to Dov, took his hand in hers. “Nothing you, or anybody, could have done would have kept death at bay. Not then, as a child. Not now, as an adult.”
“She was only a tiny baby, my sister. Why did she have to die?” He quickly swallowed a sob. “And almost take my ma with her.”
“There isn’t always a reason. At least, not a reason we can fathom. But blaming others for our inability to change what may happen—”
“I know. It’s stupid.” Slipping his hand out of hers, Dov slumped into himself.
“So, what are you going to do about it?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Can you forgive your father?”
“But you just said it wasn’t his fault. If that’s true, what should I be forgiving him for?”
“For letting you down. For not keeping his promise to be there when you and Shria needed him. For impregnating Shria with a child that almost killed her.”
“Did you know my father before I came here?”
Tayar didn’t hide her surprise at the turn of his thoughts. “Yes, I did.”
“And you talked about me?”
“No, at least no more than polite inquiries about his family. But I still can know him through you, and now,” she gestured at the closed journal, “through Jared.”
“When I become an Alleman, one thing I look forward to is seeing Jared again.” He said it lightly, filled with hope and plans for the future.
Tayar sighed, trying to release the knot in her throat. “Unfortunately, that’s impossible.” Burrowing the pain deep into her, determined that Dov shouldn’t see it, she added, “He was killed.”
“By the Mwertik? Was he the one?” Dov asked. “The one who was murdered a few years ago, when everything became so much stricter? The reason Pa wouldn’t let us travel here alone, but insisted we join a caravan?”
His accurate mark almost jarred her tight control. Tayar nodded.
“I’m sorry. I really liked him.”
Thankfully, Dov seemed to have run out of questions, at least for a short while, giving her time to regain her composure. When he spoke again, his thoughts took yet another unexpected twist.
“Jared said Pa was important. Do you think I’ll ever make a difference the way Pa does? “
“You are your father’s son. And he is justifiably proud of you, Dov.”
“My father’s son.” He looked down at his hands and sighed. “Proud of me? I don’t know. But… maybe… I think he does love me.” He paused, as though he were listening to his own words echoing inside him. After a few breaths of silence, he raised his eyes to hers. “You know, it feels great to say it, but it’s like someone else is speaking. Someone I never met, talking about a father I never really knew.”
“In many ways, you don’t know yourself or your father, not as you will. When this Season is over, you’ll have opportunities to learn about each other, to become friends and Allemen together.”
“The Every Woman,” he said. “It isn’t only about the Alleshi or even women, is it? It’s about men, too. How we can change and grow and be different people to each other, if we allow it.”
“Yes. In fact, some believe we can’t ever know another person fully. But when we touch each other, we can sense a portion, a single aspect of the other.”
Dov took her hand in his, turned it over and gently brushed his lips into the hollow of her palm. “Thank you, Tayar, for not giving up on me.”
Chapter 60
After breakfast, Dov finished the dishes, swept the floor and went into his rooms. Falling easily into his morning routine, he gave little thought to what he was doing, consumed, instead, with thoughts about the passing of time.
Only a few weeks left.
In many ways, Dov felt his whole life was in this Valley. Everything before this Season and beyond the mountain passes was another world — something that had happened to someone he no longer was. Could he ever again be Ryl of the Birani, when all that was best about him was Tayar’s Dov? Yet, once his Season ended, Dov would be nothing more than a secret name he would share with a woman he’d visit from time to time, but never again love.
No, that wasn’t right. Dov knew he would always love Tayar. Somehow, he had to find a way to make it possible, to keep it alive and real. Not allow it to turn grey and indistinct the way his life before Tayar now seemed.
And what about Lilla?
How can a man love two women with his entire being? And two such different women? Or was it Ryl who loved Lilla, while Dov loved Tayar? Then who would he be when it was over? Who would stand by his side for the rest of his life?
Dov pictured Tayar once more, as she had been when he tried to talk to her about needing to apologize to that old Allesha. She’d been evasive, unwilling to share her full self. Not because she didn’t love him or trust him, but because a part of her would always be separate from him.
She was his Allesha, his completely — for one Season. Not for a lifetime. At least, not as lovers.
He felt torn apart by that thought, inviting some of the greyness that hovered just beyond The Valley into his heart. An indistinct fog he quickly walled away, trying not to feel it. Not now, here in this home, where he had finally become more fully himself.
Dov found Tayar just outside the barn, pushing a wheelbarrow heaped with hay. Sprinting toward her, he called, “I’ll handle that—!” In mid-sentence, he slipped in the mud, sliding several feet, his arms flapping and his center of gravity repeatedly shifting beneath him. Yet he remained upright, gliding to a stop just in front of the wheelbarrow.
“Well done!” Tayar exclaimed with a grin.
Dov looked at Tayar and saw the mud on her hands and knees. “Guess dignity and mud don’t mix.” He took the handles of the wheelbarrow from her and started pushing it. “By the way, where am I going with this thing?”
“Not everyone has your skill in navigating the slippery paths of this sudden melt.” She pointed to her muddy knees. “I want to put down some hay before anybody else falls.”
“Good idea.” Dov hefted an armful of hay and spread it over the tracks of his slide.
As usual, they worked well together, falling into each other’s rhythms, Dov threw the hay from the cart, while Tayar spread it on the ground. They moved the wheelbarrow forward as they covered the distance, returning to the barn pe
riodically to refill it. In the manner of all their work, they mischievously threw hay into each other’s hair, joked, sang and stole kisses.
The air still tasted of winter, crisp and clean. Along the edges of the muddy paths, the shoveled piles of snow sparkled in the blue-sky sunlight. However, Dov couldn’t deny that the heavy clouds over the western mountains could as easily foreshadow a bitter afternoon rain as a nighttime snowfall. His Season with Tayar was winding down, nearing its end. His father would be returning soon to The Valley.
Dov stopped working and stared into the distance. “It’s going to be strange, you know… being with Pa again… being whoever I’m supposed to be.”
“You’re not supposed to be anyone. Just yourself.”
“Yes, but—” He shrugged and bent to pick up another load of hay.
Tayar placed her hand on his arm. “What were you trying to say just now, Dov?”
He scattered the hay onto the ground, straightened up and looked at her. “I was just thinking of what we talked about last night. I don’t want things to be the way they were. With me and Pa, that is. But it’s going to be tough. I’ve gotten so used to being angry. How do I start all over?”
“Yes, I see what you mean. It is difficult to reshape a long-established relationship.”
“Hey, that’s it, isn’t it?! You and that other Allesha — the one you really don’t want to go see with me. You’re angry at her, aren’t you? And you don’t know how to be with her anymore. It’s like me and Pa. That’s why you don’t want to send her a message from me. Because you’d have to go with me, be with her.”
“Actually, I already sent the message. We should be receiving a response today or tomorrow.”
“I’m glad. But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong. You and that old Allesha… something happened between the two of you, and you’re angry at her, like I was with Pa.”
“Dov, there are things you don’t know or understand.”
“Sure, I realize that. You’re an Allesha. But I’m right. When you’re ready, you’ll tell me so.” With a decisive nod, he turned and gathered another armload of hay, resuming their task.
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