by Anne Logston
Rowan shook her head, but not in denial.
“What you say is true,” she said regretfully. “Unfortunately those fears will only add, Lahti, to the clan’s displeasure at your choice. Until your child is born and shown to be born whole, it may likely be that—” She stopped, gesturing awkwardly.
“That I will be shunned by my clan and my kin,” Lahti said quietly. “Valann and I spoke of it on our journey home from the Hawk’s Eye’s lands.”
“Lahti will share my hut, even though we’re not mated,” Val said quietly. The thought of their own people treating Lahti in such a way infuriated him. He’d been subtly set apart by some of his clan all his life, but no matter how he’d hated it, it was understandable: He was different, undeniably so. But Lahti was one of their own in every way. “My hut is already at the farthest edge of the village. I’m a good hunter, as is Lahti. If the other hunters will no longer hunt with me, we’ll still not lack for meat.”
Rowan made a dismissive gesture.
“Valann, you’re being foolish. No elf in this clan, no matter how great her anger, would allow a mother with child to want for food or any other comfort, nor fail to protect them from danger. I spoke only of unkind words.”
“She won’t have to hear them for now at least,” Valann said quickly. “We came only to tell you what happened at the west edge of the forest and to learn if Lahti had conceived. I’m prepared to start west again immediately, and Lahti with me. She’ll be safe enough in the Hawk’s Eyes’ care.”
“Valann, I’ve considered your suggestions since you returned,” Rowan said slowly. “I don’t agree that we should send you as an envoy to the city, not now. After the Blue-eyes attacked your sister, the humans’ anger will be great and their guards will be more than ready to shoot their arrows at anyone who comes near the city, especially if they’re seen coming out of the forest. I doubt you could safely come close enough to the city for the guards to even notice your human appearance, and who could fault them for that? With regard to the attack on your sister and her companion, you acted properly, and I’m more grateful than I can say for the message of friendship you bring from the Hawk’s Eyes, but there’s nothing more to be done for now.”
“How can you say that?” Lahti protested. “We saw Ria injured, perhaps badly, by a Blue-eyes arrow. How can we not send envoys to the city to show our concern and learn how she’s fared?”
“You are both so young,” Dusk murmured, his eyes fastened on some distant spot. “Before the invasion, the humans of the city were as much enemies to us as we were to them. Even when we made our peace with the lord of the city, even when we showed ourselves their friends, their allies in battle, there were those in the city who bore us nothing but ill will. Now that the lord’s daughter-by-love has been injured by elves, we dare expect no friendship from them. Now we must wait for the humans to come to us in their own time. And in any wise Lahti, with child, could not risk such a dangerous journey through other territories; you both know that.”
Valann started to protest that no elf in the forest, not even Blue-eyes, would ever harm a woman with child, but Dusk anticipated his thought and silenced him with a raised hand.
“Look at Lahti and you can’t see that she’s with child,” he said gently. “Smell her and the scent of ripeness is gone, and the scent of a childbearing woman hasn’t yet developed. She could wear the green band of fertility and the blue band of pregnancy, but one hasty arrow fired before the elf saw those bands might end her life and her child’s. It’s one thing to take that risk with a child who might one day be a fertile woman, but another entirely to risk the life of a fertile woman carrying a child.”
Rowan nodded sternly in agreement.
“There’s no more to be said,” she said. “Valann, I’ve been lenient with you on this matter. I encouraged you to walk into danger because of Dusk’s vision, and it’s well that you were able to save your sister from harm and perhaps death, but there’s nothing more to be gained by endangering yourself and Lahti further, not now. I am your Eldest and I have spoken.”
Val glowered, but Lahti shook her head at him, and he bit back his protest.
“Thank you, Grandmother,” Lahti said quietly, but Val was too angry for the customary pleasantries, and he rose to follow Lahti from the hut.
“Valann. Wait.” Rowan’s voice was sympathetic, but Val could hear that it was still the Eldest of Inner Heart speaking to him, and, grinding his teeth, he turned around.
“Dusk and I will speak now to the adults of the clan on Lahti’s behalf,” Rowan said gently. “Please, Valann, it’s your right to be present, as it is Lahti’s despite her childhood, but for Lahti’s sake, I’d ask that you both stay away.”
Hot anger flared—how could Rowan expect Lahti not to speak for herself, or him to stand by her side and support her?—immediately subsiding into confusion. Rowan was his mother in all but blood. Dusk had been Lahti’s mentor for years. They had no reason to want Lahti to suffer, and Rowan, as Eldest, had every reason to want harmony and goodwill within the clan. They’d argue as fiercely in Lahti’s behalf as Val and Lahti themselves could. And in the end, what would Lahti’s presence gain but to force her to listen to angry words that would hurt her? And what would Val’s presence do but make everyone even angrier if Val lost his temper, which he was bound to do?
“All right,” Val said quietly. “We’ll move Lahti’s belongings to my hut.”
Val conveyed Rowan’s words to Lahti, and Lahti was no happier than he expected she would be; to his surprise, however, unlike Val, she was only tiredly grateful that she would not have to stand before the adults of the clan and face their anger—or worse, their disgust.
“Why should I speak to them?” Lahti said, shrugging. “There’s nothing more to be said. I knew the consequences when I made my decision, and I’d choose the same again.” She smiled at Val, her eyes regaining some of their sparkle. “Would you?”
Val chuckled, sweeping Lahti into his arms and tickling her neck with the short growth of his beard until she laughed helplessly.
“I swear by the Mother Forest I would, and in my hut, I’ll gladly prove it again and again,” he murmured into her ear.
“Stop, Val,” Lahti gasped when she regained her breath. “You should be thinking of your sister, or have you forgotten her, when only a short time ago her safety was your greatest worry?”
That sobered Val; he’d all but forgotten her indeed in his concern for Lahti. This time he could not help but doubt Rowan’s wisdom, and said as much. Inner Heart had waited sixteen years and no one had come to them; what was to be gained by more waiting? The humans did not have Dusk’s vision to urge them to action. They would never allow Ria near the forest now, not after she’d been hurt. And even if Ria was to come to them, how could she make her way past the border clans, especially the fierce Blue-eyes, and find her way safely to Inner Heart when she’d never been in the forest? No, she’d need help, help that Rowan had forbidden him to give.
It was a simple matter to claim Lahti’s few belongings from the small woven switch bower Lahti had been using since Val had left the child-pack, preferring the treetops to the hide tents Val had used. By the time they finished this errand and reached the edge of the village, although Lahti had said nothing while Val spoke, her twinkling eyes and serene face made Val realize that while she hadn’t argued with Rowan’s pronouncement, she probably had no thought of obeying it.
When they reached Val’s hut, however, Val realized that Rowan and Dusk had already anticipated their rebellion; a small owl, one that Dusk worked with frequently, was perched above the door flap of the hut and eyeing them sternly. Val scowled, but followed Lahti into the hut without speaking.
“It’s no matter,” Lahti murmured when Val had lowered the door flap and tied it securely closed. “We’re both weary and need time to rest after our journey.”
“What of my sister?” Val demanded. “You were the one to remind me of her. How does she rest? I’ve
heard that Blue-eyes often poison their arrows.”
“It’s taken us three days to return from the western edge of the forest on the deer Silence summoned for us,” Lahti said patiently. “Even if we set out to return this moment, without Dusk to summon deer for us, we’d have to go on foot, and it would take days more. Even if we walked directly to the city and were accepted in without trouble, by the time we arrived we would be too late to do your sister any good. The Blue-eyes’ poison is simple and slow. The human healers will be able to help your sister.”
“Then she may be dead already,” Val said softly. The thought made him feel suddenly cold inside, terribly alone. By the Mother Forest, how close he’d come to her! Only a few dozen paces more and he’d have been bringing her home to Inner Heart. He sighed bitterly. Yes, only a few dozen paces had stood between him and his sister—that, and a dozen angry Blue-eyes and their weapons.
“If your spirit is close enough to your sister’s to feel her presence, you would have felt her death,” Lahti said with certainty. “We’ll find a way to go to her. Dusk said that you would meet, did he not?”
“No,” Val said with a sigh. “He said that I was walking to meet her with a gift, not that I would meet her. But I had no gift for her.”
“Then there’s a second journey that we must make,” Lahti said patiently. “And you can give her no gift unless you meet, and she cannot accept your gift if she’s dead.”
“What makes you believe I’d feel her death?” Val asked warily. “I felt her presence, but only then. I’ve never known what’s befallen her before.”
“Dusk’s often told me what he learned of the other clans,” Lahti told him. “He said some of the clans had a silent speech, the gift of hearing another’s thoughts as a beast-speaker can hear the thoughts of a beast. Your mother’s people, the Wilding Clan, had that silent speech. As her children, you and Ria may share that gift.”
“Then why can’t I feel her now, know what’s happened to her?” Val asked, shaking his head.
“There could be many reasons,” Lahti reassured him. “Your gift and Ria’s may be weaker because your blood isn’t pure. You’ve never trained your gift, and any of our gifts are weak until they’re trained and practiced, just as your bow arm was weak and clumsy at first. And especially, she’s likely much too far away. I can’t heal without touching, and you can’t make fire from far away, either. Likely you need to be closer to her, as you were in the Blue-eyes’ territory, before your spirits can touch, especially when your gift is unused and weak as it likely is now.”
“But sometimes I’ve seen her in my dreams,” Val protested. “And she was likely even farther away then.” He scowled. “But those were only dreams.”
“Your spirit journeys away from your body in dreams,” Lahti said, nodding. “I’d guess that as close in spirit as you and Ria must be, being born at one birth, your spirits are drawn together in dreams.” She met Val’s eyes. “You saw her in your passage dream, didn’t you, more clearly than before?”
Val hesitated instinctively. It was forbidden to discuss passage dreams with—no. Lahti was an adult. He had to believe that.
“I saw her,” he admitted. “And my mother.”
“Sometimes such gifts are wakened, or trained, by dreaming potions,” Lahti said, nodding, “because such potions free the spirit for longer journeys.”
Val sat up suddenly.
“Do you think if I had another dreaming potion, that I could speak to her in my thoughts? Even only learn whether she’s alive?” he asked anxiously.
“Val,” Lahti said reprovingly. “You know Dusk will never give you the potion.”
Val was silent for a long moment.
“Could you make the potion?” he asked. “You’ve been learning from Dusk for years now.”
“I could make the potion,” Lahti said thoughtfully. “But I don’t have all the herbs and roots and such for it. And this is the wrong time of year to gather some of them.” She looked into Val’s eyes and relented. “Dusk has all the ingredients. I could go to Rowan’s hut and get them; I’m sure he’s still talking to the other adults at the firepit. But Dusk’ll be terribly angry if he finds out, and his owl is just outside the hut, watching for us to try to leave the village.”
“I’ll lure the bird away,” Val said quickly, “if you can fetch whatever you’ll need back here.”
Lahti hesitated, then nodded.
“The potion didn’t do you any harm before,” she said slowly. “And that was when you were weakened by fasting and by your passage trials. I suppose it’s safe enough for you to take again.”
There was little time for a plan, not if Lahti was to get to Rowan and Dusk’s hut and back before the conference around the fire was over. Val simply stepped outside the door, scowled at the owl, and slipped into the undergrowth; as he’d expected, the owl followed, fluttering from branch to branch to watch him. Having nowhere better to go, Val began working his way around the edge of the village just far enough away that any elves still in their huts wouldn’t hear him.
When he reached the point nearest the fire pit, Val was both anxious and relieved to see that apparently there was still a discussion taking place around the fire. Rowan was standing, her sharp gestures indicating that she was upset, if not angry. Occasionally a sharp tone reached him, hers or someone else’s, but he was too far away to make out the words. He considered creeping closer to hear what was being said, but Dusk might at any time look through the eyes of his owl and know. Val sighed and continued onward, not hurrying, until he’d made an entire circuit of the whole Inner Heart village; then he stalled a little longer by backtracking a bit to use the privy pits.
By this time, Lahti had had ample opportunity for her secret errand to Rowan’s tent, so Val strolled back to their hut more directly. As he crossed the small section of the village between the privy pits and his hut, he noticed that some of the adults were trickling back to their huts from the fire pit. Only a few saw him, but of those few Val was dismayed to see that there was more than one angry scowl directed toward him, and one elf, Garad, a kinsman of Rowan’s, turned aside so his path would not cross Valann’s.
A hot surge of anger almost froze Val in his tracks. If this was how he was treated—and very little of the fault rested with him; no male elf could really be expected to refuse a ripe female who asked for his seed—how much worse could Lahti expect? For a moment he stood there shaking with anger, longing more than anything to seize Garad and hit him again and again with his fists until that superior, disapproving expression on his face was obliterated by blood and bruises; then he painfully choked down his fury and continued on his way. Fighting with Garad would accomplish nothing but turning even more of the clan against him and Lahti. He quickly decided he’d say nothing to Lahti of what he’d seen of the clan’s reaction. She’d learn the full extent of the clan’s disapproval soon enough—all too soon, to his way of thinking. Let her have a little peace and contentment while she could.
When Val slipped back through the door flap to his hut, Lahti was pouring a thick liquid from a bowl into a wooden cup.
“The potion’s ready,” she said, motioning to him to sit on the furs beside her.
“So quickly?” Val asked, surprised.
Lahti smiled sheepishly.
“I took the bowl with me and mixed the ingredients there in Rowan and Dusk’s hut,” she admitted. “I wanted to be certain I used exactly the proper proportions, and I thought if I carried jars and pouches out of the hut, Dusk would surely miss them. So I brought it back mixed and ready except for the honey and wine to dissolve it in. I didn’t think you’d wish to delay, worrying about your sister. Are you ready?”
The last of Val’s anger faded in a warm wash of love. Lahti was still weary from their journey; she’d not had so much as time for a bath, and the joy of her ripening and pregnancy had been marred by the certain disapproval of the clan. Yet she’d set all that aside in her concern for him, and her sympathy for his wo
rry for his sister. Yes, he’d have to persuade her to be his mate. This was the woman he wanted to spend his life with, the Mother Forest knew!
“I’m ready,” he said, reaching over to caress Lahti’s cheek.
“Then drink, and sleep on the furs so there’s no danger you’ll tumble from your sling bed,” Lahti said, smiling warmly, clasping his hand against her cheek. “I’m not giving you enough of the potion for a full night’s dreaming, but a smaller portion, such as Dusk takes to seek his visions. I’ll watch over you while you sleep.”
“There’s no need for that,” he said gently. “You should bathe and sleep yourself. I spent the entire night lying alone on an altar under this potion with no ill effects. Even sleeping, I’m sure you would wake if you heard me in any distress.”
Lahti smiled but said nothing, and Val sighed; she’d do as she pleased, say what he might. But, then, would he love her so if it weren’t for that occasionally annoying stubbornness?
Val swallowed the potion. The thick, syrupy liquid had been disagreeable before, when he’d fasted for days and almost anything would have tasted good; now, however, he found the taste almost unbearable. He finished every drop, however, gladly accepting the cup of broth Lahti gave him to wash away the bittersweet taste.
This time, likely because he’d not been fasting and weakened by the trials, the potion took longer to affect him. Val had plenty of time to undress and settle himself comfortably on the furs before drowsiness began to wash over him in slow, warm waves. His last awareness was of Lahti sitting at his side, silhouetted fetchingly against the firelight, her hand warm and gentle against his forehead. Then he let the potion draw him gently downward.
This time, too, he knew better what to expect, and he was less afraid as he sank deep into the earth, toward that hot, pulsing center of life. He’d made this journey before unharmed, and this time he’d need no guide to find his way; there’d be no aimless wandering through the chaos. Almost as soon as he pictured the still pool at the center of his mind, he was there. Was this the same place Dusk came to seek his visions?