Shadows of Aggar (Amazons of Aggar)

by Chris Anne Wolfe

  But Di’nay did not appear to find anything odd in her stutterings. “There’s nothing wrong with having no interest in motherhood.”

  “Actually,” Elana admitted, relieved that the implications of her words had gone unnoticed, “there are many who would disapprove of me as a mother — aside from me shadowing an infant. It’s not that I’m incapable. It’s just that it is seldom done.”

  Diana reminded herself she was not supposed to be here to reorganize Aggar’s society. “That position is a bit extreme, isn’t it? I mean, when the assignment is done, why should your life continue to be so entangled with your partner’s?”

  “Many reasons,” Elana returned warily.

  Diana was acutely aware of the cautiousness and looked at Elana curiously, wondering if she had inadvertently tread upon one of Elana’s personal convictions. More slowly she offered, “I don’t mean to raise faults, only — only, I don’t really understand your lifebonding.”

  “Few do. Taking a more rational direction, Di’nay. If the Fates or the Mother have marked an individual to sway destiny, who can say for certain which day — or which season of their life is the crucial one? Is it not more likely that it is their life, in its entirety, which will influence history?”

  Diana turned her mug slowly, watching the crushed leaves collect in the middle. “So, after this assignment, will you accept another? A lifelong commitment?”

  Elana studied her own tea. “I cannot tell you what will happen.”

  “If I had been of Aggar, would you have chosen to spend your life with me?”

  “We are lifebound.” Elana smiled. “My choice was made long ago, Di’nay.”

  Her long fingers massaged the bridge of her nose for a second as Diana tried to interpret that cryptic remark. She hesitated, afraid to ask anything more directly.

  Elana was intensely aware of Di’nay’s trepidation. Her heart melted at the thought that Di’nay might regret having entered her life, and she reached across the table to grasp both her lover’s hands. “I do not need you to change anything, Di’nay — not of the past or the future.”

  At the tenderness in her voice, Diana turned her gaze to meet those blue eyes, and she felt the enfolding warmth strengthen.

  “And I would not let you change anything, if it meant that I would miss this time with you.” Elana sighed, but she did not release her lover’s hands. “Once I said to you, I would be honored to work with you. But you have given me far more. The friendship — the happiness you have shared with me will never be measurable.”

  Diana uncomfortably withdrew her hands to pick up her tea. She was embarrassed and unsettled that she was embarrassed. “I’m not a royal guard mounted on a miraculous steed, Elana.”

  Elana’s sweet laughter was infectious. Diana felt her tension ease as Elana said, “Ann! You are not that.” Then Elana said soberly, “No, you are an extraordinary woman, at times very vulnerable, at times very strong. I would not change you.”

  “But you have, you know. I am no longer so frustrated, so weary of my inability to change… Thomas — his people — the people of Gronday — of your world.”

  “Perhaps, it is more a matter of understanding your own part and less of changing others?” Elana offered.

  Wise words. Diana nodded faintly. “I knew that once, but it was forgotten. I think you’ve retaught it to me.”

  “It was not deliberate, I assure you,” Elana said, but she was smiling.

  Diana returned the sparkling smile. “Would you like to learn something more of my Sisters? Tomorrow is a sacred day to us. A day of thanksgiving and blessings — and of rejoicing. Would you share the morning rituals with me?” As if we were home, she added silently. As if we were Sisters — and joined as mates.

  “Sae, I would like that very much.” Elana did not know if she was breathless from Di’nay’s urgency in asking or from her own pleasure at the invitation.

  That night they made love for the first time since the cucarii sting, and it seemed to Elana as if her lover’s touch was sweeter, more compelling than it had yet been. It was almost as if by their very loving, Di’nay could transport them the length of the universe to a haven that held no poisons, no crises, no interruptions — whether they be human-made or cucarii-fashioned. Elana wove sapphire and brown visions together, adding her own pleas for a haven without tomorrows.

  † † †

  The candle was lit and Elana held it steady, protecting the slender flame from the canyon’s wind. The rose and gold carpet of dawn unrolled across the plateau. She repeated the chorus, and spellbound, she watched as the sun’s rays danced amidst the tiny prisms of Di’nay’s headband. She listened — single words unheard — as the rise and fall of Di’nay’s voice carried her to a planet far away. She had never thought of her lover — of her Amazon — as singing, and the sheer beauty of it startled and awed her.

  The last of Diana’s native tea was scattered to the wind, a symbol of the first home harvest. The candle passed between them and back to Elana again, a sign of cares well shared — the dreams well woven — the circling exchange of hope and fear seen through the generations of dey Sorormin, generations of the Sisterhood, before Sappho, and in tomorrows yet to be spun.

  The words of the songs blended with the morning’s sun, a new birth — a remembrance of the first birth to the Sisterhood — the child that had greeted the rising alien sun who would never know it as alien. That child, Helen, had given her name to their star as she had given her hope — her virgin strength to her mothers. She had grown to lead them as only Sappho could have imagined. She had grown to unite them in balance, not in war against the outsiders. The day of her birth was honored as a day of blessings from the Highest Mother and as a day of proof that hope could be triumphant.

  Words ended as the sun lifted herself clear of the mountains. Reverently, Elana lowered her hand to let the breeze sweep across the candle and douse the light.

  For a moment Diana was silent, then her thoughts drew near Elana, yet not quite leaving that home so far away. Softly, across the lightspans, the Sisters embraced the two of them, and Diana began again — this time with the shortest of verses, one of Common — the verse meant to be shared with newfound kin:

  “N’Awehai stood sound,

  n’Sappho brought them

  as n’Athena’s hand guarded.

  N’Shea ’came healer,

  as n’Minona taught,

  and n’Hina provided.

  Now sowing is done,

  with strength undivided.

  N’Huitaca bring music!

  Bright peace reigns

  Delighted —”

  Elana turned to face the golden sun. So near — and still so distant. The Amazon’s gaze left her, and Elana knew Di’nay did not see the dusty, muted tones of Aggar’s heights; she was looking to that place much further away — to the rich amber and topaz hues of her native hills. “Thank you, Daughter of Mothers,” Elana said softly. “Thank you very much.”

  Diana turned at the title, finding herself again on Aggar. She smiled sheepishly and guiltily pulled the headband off. “No, I thank you.”

  “You needn’t remove it,” Elana protested, touched by the woman’s sudden shyness. “It’s a beautiful crown.”

  Diana folded the band carefully. Each bead was the shape of a pyramid and the rows were laced together with a silvered filament. A midnight blue hue backed the inner flat of the beads, save for the centered symbols, and the small peaks caught and shimmered rainbows of light even as Diana closed her palm.

  “The design.” Elana pointed to the clear beads as Di’nay reopened her clasp. “Is there a meaning behind it?”

  “It is an ancient Terran symbol for woman. Whenever two or three are entwined like these, it represents the unity of our Sisterhood. This was Terri’s piece when she traveled off-world. It’s made of much more durable stuff than the glass ones we have at home.”

  “Does each woman have her own then?”

  Diana rememb
ered the year Oma Hanna had presented hers. “A family fashions one for each of their daughters. Sometimes it will be similar to an elder’s or sometimes it will symbolize something especially relevant to that daughter’s life. Then when her menses begin, she is given the band and invited to share the Dawn Ritual and sing the Songs of Helen.

  “Oh — it is a sight, Elana. The women of each community gather to greet the new day. They may number in tens or in thousands, depending upon the community’s size, but their voices are always as one. The sun dances with our colors as the candles pass through our hands. It is so very beautiful…. I wish you could see it.”

  “In your home, does Terri’s piece look like this one?”

  Diana shook her head. She was not ready to leave the morning sun for the cellar below. “All Sisters traveling off-world carry this design or something similar. The color or the number of interlocked symbols may vary, but the subject is the same. We share very little of our home life with the Empire. Rationally, I suppose, it lessens the opportunities for spies to be assimilated into our culture. Emotionally, I know we hold our ways to be too precious. The struggle has been too long for us to be less greedy in our guardedness.”

  “And yet you invite me… here… this morning.” Elana felt her eyes blur as again she recognized how much Di’nay’s trust had come to mean to her. “What does your band look like?”

  Elana looked at Di’nay, memorizing the way the early sun touched her face. She wanted to know what colors had shimmered across Di’nay’s brow when she sang beside her family.

  “I’m sorry.” Diana drew her thoughts back. “You asked something?”

  Elana repeated, “What does your band look like? You said this was Terri’s.”

  Diana laughed at herself. “It’s narrower than this, and the backing is woven gold of horsehair. Her voice softened as her memories took her again. “Most of the beads are clear… and it fairly glows like the sheen of corn silk in the sun. It’s very plain. The only design in it is a thin copper cross. I suppose it’s not really a cross, there’s not a bottom half to it.”

  “Is it? Not really a cross?” Elana pressed. Then corrected herself, “I mean, why horsehair and copper in that design?”

  Diana smiled mischievously. “You may not believe this, but before I went off-world, I trained horses.”

  “And I once worried if you could handle Nightstorm? Why did you not tell me?”

  “I did not know you.”

  Elana smiled, her heart warmed by the fact that there had been changes since then. “Where does the copper come into it?”

  “The half-cross?” Diana’s eyes dropped as she recalled a less pleasant memory. “It’s a geometric design. It represents an old mine with an air shaft slanting down into it. There was an accident when I was a child… in an abandoned copper mine. Oma Hanna wove the coil in as a reminder of my survival.” A smile tugged at her lips. “I remember that before I went off-world, whenever I was particularly frightened or despairing, I would take the band out and run my fingers over those glassy ridges, remembering how hard it had been. And I’d think that no matter what was to come, I had dealt with that mine. I could deal with anything Fates’ Jest might send on afterwards.”

  Elana glimpsed a piece of the fire that had gone into the forging of her lover’s strength, but, then, Di’nay was laughing.

  “I didn’t escape completely unscathed,” Diana admitted ruefully. “I still don’t like the dark.”

  Elana gave a half-chuckle, soft in its compassion. “So I have noticed.”

  “Yes, certainly you would.” Diana frowned, suddenly putting a few pieces together. “Below in Melysa’s chambers, you have been pulling back the curtains at night. Has that been for my benefit? To let in the firelight?”

  “That and the warmth. You do have a tendency to chill easily, you know.”

  “Thank you. It has helped.”

  “No need for thanks.” Elana’s voice was rich and low with her tenderness. “I am simply glad to be there.”

  † † †

  Chapter Ten

  “I will miss your cooking, Shadow.”

  Elana was pleased at the healer’s compliment, but she hid her amusement at Di’nay’s wince. Her Amazon would never truly be comfortable with the Council’s labels, Elana thought as she poured both women more tea and cleared the last of the earthenware dishes from the table.

  Di’nay did not care much for that service, but Elana had claimed that she would be shamed if Di’nay insisted on usurping her caretaking duties in front of Melysa. The disapproval would have been easy enough for Elana to bear. It was common knowledge to those like Melysa who were from the Keep that each pair of shadowmates arranged things to their individual liking. But Elana enjoyed doing things for Di’nay, especially since the woman so seldom took advantage of her offers.

  She had tried to explain that pleasure to Di’nay, but the Amazon was not one to sacrifice independence lightly — especially her own. Di’nay was still not ready to explore mutual dependency, so here at Melysa’s Elana had guiltlessly seized her opportunity to do more. She understood Di’nay would respect her wishes for ‘normalcy’ just as she had respected Maryl’s wishes to preserve outward appearances in Colmar. So, shameless, she enjoyed spoiling Di’nay in front of the healer.

  “I trust that you’ve raided my larder adequately?” Melysa asked. “And did you find the field tent?” Diana ground her teeth tight and left it to Elana to answer. It seemed to be one of those ‘duties’ that they had spoken of.

  “Yes, thank you. You’ve been very generous to us, Mistress.” Elana smiled, turning from the low table near the hearth where she was washing dishes. “I can only apologize that we could not give you more in return.”

  The woman clucked her tongue. “Your warrior’s quiver of arrows that you abandon here are overly handsome a payment. Do stop your fretting, child.”

  Diana eyed the sleeping eitteh draped about the slumped shoulders of the old woman. It was not the animal that Elana had found at the stream. This one was larger, with chocolate-furred boots and ears. Diana wondered if Melysa’s bent frame had come from carrying such creatures throughout her lifetime. Diana nodded at the winged-cat. “I would have thought that your friends would disapprove of arrows. Or perhaps be insulted at the implication that they do not hunt well enough to serve you?”

  The woman laughed, absently reaching up to stroke the satiny head. The animal did not stir from its sleep. “The arrows are not for me, young warrior. I will barter them as need arises for spices, fodder and such. They are well-made, ’tis clear to see, and will more than replace the meager stocks you’ve taken from me.”

  “But they do not replace your healing, Mistress,” Diana said gratefully.

  “Ah!” Her wrinkled hand pushed away the gratitude. She enjoyed tampering with the Fates in her own small ways, just as she enjoyed bemusing people by befriending injured eitteh. “It was not such a feat as you think. You are both strong and young, and there was time enough once you got here.”

  Elana cringed, her back to the two as she rinsed the last bowl. Melysa continued to refer to the fact that they both had needed her tending upon arrival. Elana could only ignore the remarks and hoped Di’nay was attributing them to some strangeness of the woman. She wished Melysa had been trained elsewhere than the Keep. Then her accent would have been thicker and the references more easily lost.

  “Have you given much thought to your return journey?” Melysa’s quick eyes darted back and forth between the two women, clearly expecting this to be an open matter for discussion.

  Diana shrugged. “I have never seen the Maltar’s lands, and I know of no other way back but around the mountains. It will be too late to cross.”

  “And you, Shadow?”

  Elana dried her hands slowly as she took a seat beside Di’nay. “There is a third person involved, Mistress. Until we know how, or if, he can travel….”

  Melysa’s pale lips thinned. “If he can not travel, your
effort and my work has truly been for naught.”

  Diana shook her head firmly. “Too many more would be dead if we fail. He will travel — somehow.”

  “Ahh, but in what direction will you take him?”

  Diana said, “The Gate will be closed with the snows. I understand there is a road that forks to the west, however. It then travels around the mountains near the seashore. That road also has a southern fork which climbs through a less difficult pass which we might try. Or there is always the river that opens into the seas. We could take passage south and then eventually work our way northeast and across the Ramains plains again.”

  “A good enough way,” Melysa said. “This early in winter, seafaring ships are still safe.”

  “They will look for us to sail home,” Elana said quietly, and Di’nay glanced at her sharply.

  “They will look for you in all three routes,” Melysa said rather airily.

  “The port is the easiest for them to watch,” Elana said. “Maltar has a garrison there by treaty.”

  Diana remembered Elana’s claim that she had difficulty in guessing how men plot. She wondered, suddenly, if this quiet, unassuming attitude was more than just the Shadow’s training. What had Elana not told her? She turned back to Melysa. “Do you know of a path they will not be watching?”

  But Melysa was not to be hurried. “One can never be certain of spying eyes.” She looked at Elana as if waiting for permission to speak. Then as if she had somehow gained it she said, “There is a road through the mountains south of here. The Maltar very rarely considers its existence”

  “The Wayward Path.” Elana said sharply.

  Melysa beamed. “In truth, it is an obvious solution to your dilemma, I think?”

  “The Changlings guard it too well!” Elana protested. “They block one entrance, digging another so fast that finding a route is near impossible. Their sentries are well armed and well numbered. It is near suicide even to approach the Path!”