“There be nay reason for anyone to know,” said the High-Kin. “Well, that is what we be thinking before….”
“I know a little from my travels,” said the High-Kiness. “But it is nay something we be having to consider before.”
“I think you should consider it now,” said Ode. “The mountain people who live around the temple must be in need of help with such matters, and you are always saying that you want ways to reach out to them.”
The High-Kin and High-Kiness both stared at him in amazement.
“You be a strange man,” said the High-Kin with the shadow of a smile.
After more questioning that Ode did his best to evade, he was sent to the eating hall for a late breakfast. The room was almost empty, except for the Kins who were clearing up the dirty bowls, and Ode sat alone. He was exhausted and sore from the night’s activities and he could barely remain upright; his body frequently slumped into sleep. He was just nodding off when a flittering shadow caught his eyes. He looked up to see Briar beckoning him from the doorway.
His tiredness forgotten, he jumped up and lurched over to her. They were alone in the hallway, but Ode could hear the distant footfalls of Kins and Kinesses going about their daily routines in the temple. He knew it would not be long before someone appeared.
“I never had the chance to say thank you,” Briar whispered.
They were standing so close that Ode could smell the sweet, flowery scent of her, and he could feel her breath like little gusts against his skin.
“If you had not helped Kayra, she would have died,” she added.
“How is she? And how is the baby?” Ode managed to say, trying to stop himself from throwing his arms around her again.
“They are well, and she has decided to give up her vows. The father of the child has come forward, and he and Kayra are to be married.”
“Is she happy?”
“Very,” said Briar, and then she paused. “But I will lose my friend,” she added, twisting her fingers together.
“I’m your friend, remember?” said Ode, gently pulling her hands apart and holding them in his own.
Briar looked up at him, and they both smiled. Ode’s heart thumped in his chest like the frantic beat of wings, and he felt himself leaning toward her.
“Briar!”
They sprang apart, and Ode saw the High-Kiness marching toward them, her face taut with anger.
“You be not in your room,” she growled at the Kiness.
“I—I just wanted to thank him,” Briar muttered.
“Well, now you be thanking him and now you be leaving.”
Briar nodded meekly and walked away, disappearing down the hallway with her brown skirt swishing around her ankles.
Once she was gone, the High-Kiness stood staring at Ode for a long moment, scrutinizing his face.
“You be staying away from that Kiness,” she said. “You be hearing me?”
“I only met her last night.”
“That be good. You be nay meeting her again.”
Ode wanted to ask why. He wanted to know why Briar did not eat with the other temple members. Why she slept in a room separate from the girls’ dormitories and why he had never seen her walking around the temple with the other Kinesses.
“The High-Kin be wanting to speak to you,” said the High-Kiness, casting a disdainful glance over him and his wolf. “I be taking you there now.”
Ode followed her through the temple, back to the room he had stood in that morning, attempting to explain himself. The High-Kin was pacing from one side to the other, still dressed in his wrinkled robe. He smiled when Ode entered and embraced him, as was the custom.
“This matter be almost put to rest,” he said. “And that be good, for it has wearied us all.”
He glanced at the High-Kiness but she was standing apart, still giving Ode an intense glare.
“We be thinking what you say this morning be right,” the High-Kin continued. “We be thinking that those in the temple do need to be knowing about birthing and such things.”
Ode remembered his daring words and flushed.
“We be thinking you move to the temple and teach them.”
It took Ode a moment to realize what the High-Kin had said.
“Me?”
“There nay be anyone else who could do it,” said the High-Kin with a chuckle.
Ode opened and closed his mouth, unable to reply. He had wanted to live in the temple for so long that he could hardly believe it.
“You be right that this be a good way to reach out to the mountain people,” the High-Kin added. “And it be apparent you have skills in this.”
“But I haven’t reached a decision about my vows,” said Ode. “I’ve been praying, but I can’t see an answer.”
“Perhaps the gods be having different plans for you,” said the High-Kin quietly, and the High-Kiness flinched.
“If you nay want to that is fine,” she added quickly.
“No!” Ode cried before he could stop himself. “I mean, I’m honored by the offer. Honored and shocked.”
“You be not having to take vows for this,” said the High-Kin. “As long as you be praying and waiting for a sign then that be all we can ask. But I be urging you to think this over. We be in need of your help and your skills be wasted herding sheep now that we be seeing what you can do.”
There was a pause, and Ode heard the distant chanting of a prayer from the Room of the Gods, which drifted through the open window shutters.
“Yes,” he said.
“Should you be wanting to consider it first?” asked the High-Kiness, but the High-Kin beamed with delight and her question was ignored.
“I’m so thankful for this chance—” began Ode.
“You be helping us,” the High-Kin interrupted. “I knew the gods be bringing you here for a reason.”
The High-Kiness frowned, but Ode did not notice. He felt elated. He grinned for the rest of that day, foolishly thinking that now, since he would be living in the temple, he would see Briar more than ever.
As it was, Ode barely saw Briar at all. He moved into the temple the day of the High-Kin’s offer and, though he waited at their meeting spot that evening to tell Briar the good news, she did not appear.
In a sudden rush, autumn became winter and snow fell thickly across the mountains, glazing each peak in a slather of white. Lacy frost fringed the prayer flags that hung around the courtyards, and the prayer wheels grew stiff with ice. The temple fires blazed continuously, but still Ode would awaken some mornings in his dormitory with frost in his hair. The weather did not encourage freezing midnight wanderings, and whenever Ode ventured out to the mountain pass where he had once kept watch, hopeful that this time Briar might be there, he found it deserted. There were no prints in the snow that might have been a leopard—no silver shadows sliding over the rocks. Briar, it seemed, had vanished.
When he was not looking for his Kiness, Ode was busy teaching the students and learning new skills himself. Erek remembered that he had once promised to teach Ode to read and they began daily lessons, working through scripture with slow precision. Ode discovered that he was both a good teacher and a good student, which gained him a favorable reputation among his peers at the temple. He still helped in the valley when he was not taking lessons, and he could feel himself growing wise as well as strong.
Ode knew that he should be happy. His teaching at the temple was interesting and his visits to nearby mountain people were also proving a success. A reserved race, they were distrustful at first, but in time they came to accept him and some even welcomed his birthing help. With such blessings as these, Ode wanted to be thankful and he often was, but he thought of Briar constantly. He did not know where she had gone or why. He thought about their last meeting over and over, considering if he had said or done something wrong. In dark moments he even wondered if she was hiding from him.
He never saw her around the temple, though he always looked. Even when teaching, if someone
walked across the courtyard outside, Ode would glance through the window with hope. He was not permitted in the Kinesses’ chambers, but on his days of rest he would linger nearby. His female students passed him with quizzical glances, but he would stay put until the High-Kiness appeared. Only then did he slip away. Sometimes he was not quick enough and she caught sight of him. Her eyes would narrow and her top lip would curl. Ode became convinced that she had something to do with Briar’s disappearance.
Whether he was nursing new mothers in the huts of the mountain people or explaining the cycle of babyhood to a class of young Kins sitting at their desks, Briar was always present in Ode’s mind. He thought that if he could catch just a glimpse of her, all would be well. However, when he finally did see her, one dark, cold evening, he almost wished he had not.
The whole temple gathered together for the Midwinter Feast and Ode piled into the eating hall with everyone, trying his best to look jolly. He had spent the morning at Kayra’s hut in the next valley, where she now lived with her new husband. It was not the first time that Ode had visited, since Kayra worried often about her baby boy’s well-being. As always, Ode had assured her that the child was perfectly fine, and then, as always, he had asked her if she had news from Briar. Knowing what he would say, Kayra lowered her eyes and started shaking her head before he had even finished speaking. Whenever he asked, she always gave him the same response, but Ode could tell that she was lying.
He brooded over it now, sitting at a table in the eating hall. Around him, his friends were joking and laughing with one another, but he could not join in. He did not know why he turned his head to look across the room, but when he did, he saw two blue eyes watching him. Ode was so shocked that he almost shouted her name. It was only Erek, seated beside him and oblivious to all else, who prevented him with a hearty pat on the back.
“Happy Midwinter to you!” Erek cried.
Ode did not reply. He was staring through the raucous crowd to the blue eyes on the other side of the room. She was far away, but he could see she looked sickly and thin. She stood at the edge of a group of Kinesses, who were all yelling and singing joyfully, but she was not joining in.
Ode scrambled to his feet, ready to weave through the red cloaks to her side. He did not care that those around could see. He had been longing for her too much and had barely thought of anything else. Even in his dreams he had seen her beautiful face—pale and wan and wishing for him, too. He began trying to push his way through the throng, but suddenly, she turned away from him. Dodging through the masses, she fled. Ode could not believe it. He sat back down heavily and ignored Erek’s questions.
“You be looking ill,” the Kin said at last. “You be better to go to sleep.”
Ode nodded glumly and left the hall, Arrow trailing behind him with his tail drooping low against the ground.
The hallways of the temple were empty and Ode passed the red, peeling walls with his head bowed. All classes were dismissed for the Midwinter Feast and Ode made his way to the schooling rooms. He did not feel much like sleeping. There was an itch between his shoulders that needed to be dealt with, as if wings were trying to tear apart the muscles of his back. Since moving into the temple, he had been shifting regularly. He knew it was dangerous, but he figured that to not shift would be worse. He needed to keep his Magic under control or else it would show itself in other ways. Life in the temple was so close and communal that, should he give even the slightest sign of his gift, someone would notice. He shared a dormitory with six other men, and students and friends accompanied him from morning until night. To shift, he had to slip away at opportune moments such as these.
The schooling rooms were deserted, but Ode crept from one classroom to the next, checking. Arrow galloped about, sniffing, but he gave no sign that he had detected anyone.
With a mixture of sorrow and frustration, Ode began pulling off his furs in one of the empty classrooms. It was cold and he began to shiver as he emerged from each layer, but his dark mood left him numb to the pain of the chill. He grasped the white feather around his neck and transformed. He was almost as good at it now as he had been in the Wild Lands. The knack had come back to him quickly and he could sense his control over his Magic strengthening.
Just then, feeling as hurt and rejected as he did, he wished that he could transform and never turn back. A life without Briar did not seem worth living.
As a bird, Ode waddled about the classroom, stretching and flexing his wings. He did not often allow himself to fly unless he was far from the temple and completely convinced that he would not be seen, but today he felt reckless. He was sad and desperate. He could not forget the way Briar had run from him. He had spent moon-cycles searching for her, yet all that time, it seemed, she had been avoiding him. Had he done something wrong? He could not bear to think of it. He wanted to fly away and never look back.
Ode ran out of the classroom and began beating his wings, followed by Arrow, who growled in surprise. In the courtyard, Ode soared above the flagstones to the temple roof, circling the mountaintop. He could see the snow-covered valley filled with whiteness like a goblet sloshed in milk, and he could see the mountains that spread in all directions like an icy sea. The danger of what he was doing eclipsed some of his sadness, and he tried to focus on the thrill of it.
He stayed in his bird form far longer than he would normally have dared. The pale, wintry sun plunged behind the nearby mountains and the sky became cold and dark. Finally, Ode descended from the slate temple roof and disappeared into the classroom once more. He transformed into his human form and pulled his clothes on before he grew too cold. The flight had raised his spirits a little, but when he remembered Briar’s blue eyes and her sweet, gushing laugh, he felt gloomy again. He was tired and decided he would go to the dormitory and try to lose himself in sleep.
He was about to leave when he noticed that Arrow was not beside him. Glancing around the room he did not see his wolf’s familiar gray body anywhere. He frowned and the first stirrings of unease crept into his chest. He strode to the door and pulled aside the red curtain.
There, lying in the middle of the courtyard in a patch of moonlight, was Arrow. Beside him sat Briar. She tickled the wolf’s soft belly and giggled when he wagged his tail in pleasure.
Ode swallowed hard and wondered if this was a vision.
Seeing him, Briar stopped and her face became solemn. She staggered to her feet, and Ode could see that she was weak. Her plain clothes were dirty and despite all the furs thrown over her, she looked tiny and fragile.
“Will you run away this time?” he found himself saying, and he was surprised to hear his voice sound so bitter.
“Will you stay human?” she asked back, jutting out her chin.
Ode felt the blood drain from his face, and he gritted his teeth together.
“I saw you just now,” she added, folding her arms. “I know what you are … a Magic.”
“Shush!” Ode cried, looking around.
They were both silent, but Ode knew that he could not stay angry.
“Briar, please.”
When he said her name, she immediately softened and her arms fell by her sides again.
“Why did you never tell me?” she asked.
“I was afraid. I didn’t tell anyone and I thought—I thought that you would hate me.”
A pearly tear trickled down Briar’s cheek. “I do not hate you,” she whispered.
Ode slowly moved closer to her, as if she might suddenly run away. He could see that her eyes were red-rimmed and her cheeks were ashen and hollow.
“Where have you been?” he asked.
“In the temple.”
“But I’ve never seen you. Why have you been hiding?”
“I would not hide from you.”
“Then what’s happened? You look sick. What’s wrong? Please tell me.”
He was so close to her now that they were almost touching. He took hold of her hand, and she jumped. Her palm was icy and her delicate f
ingers looked cracked and sore.
“I … I …” she gasped, more tears coursing down her cheeks. “I just cannot see you. You need to understand—”
“But I love you.”
The words were out of Ode’s mouth before he could stop them, and Briar gasped. She snatched her hand away and shook her head, sobs shaking her body.
“No!” she said. “No, you cannot!”
“Why?” Hurt slashed across Ode’s chest and he felt his hands begin to tremble.
“We are friends,” said Briar.
“Yes, but … you are more than a friend to me.”
“No!”
Ode knew it was forbidden, but he had longed for it. He had not expected Briar to react like this. A small part of him had hoped she felt the same way.
“I can’t help it,” he said. “Since the moment I saw you—”
“No!” Briar cried again, wiping her tears away roughly with the sleeve of her dress. “You cannot, and I will not let you.”
She turned and began to run, her feet pattering softly against the flagstones. Ode thought about chasing after her, but his legs suddenly felt heavy and awkward. Beneath his shirt, he could feel his white feather burning, as if it were throbbing with pain. At his feet, Arrow threw back his head and howled at the midwinter moon.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The Command
Ode did not know how he survived after Briar’s rejection. He felt empty. Dead.
He walked to his lessons each morning and answered the students’ questions about birthing and motherhood. In the afternoons, he completed his own studies, reading with Erek or practicing to write in the language of the temple. And in the evening he volunteered to tend to the fields in the valley with his old friends. To those around him, Ode seemed normal, but inside, he ached. Whenever he could, he crept off with Arrow and hiked through the nearby mountains. There he would shift into his bird form and soar through the white-capped peaks. It was the only thing that gave him a release.
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