by Sharon Hinck
Instead of standing, Brantley sat behind me, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Since it’s an unfamiliar mount, I figured I should hold you.” His teasing words tickled against my ear.
I sighed and relaxed back against the warmth of his chest. “If she tosses me into the water, you’ll just have to save me.”
“Again.”
“Again? Hey, I’ve saved you just as many times as you’ve saved me.”
“That you have. In more ways than you know.”
The sea was still, and we glided silently as the stars emerged. The lights of torches and bonfires at Windswell drew us home.
“Your hair keeps trying to escape.” Brantley’s mother, Fiola, smoothed the white headscarf that framed my face. “Are you sure you want to wear this?”
Her inquiry only added to the uncertainty swarming around my skull like gnats. “It’s a reminder that I’m a dancer.” Sinking into a chair by her hearth, where our morning tsalla brewed in a kettle, I picked at the edge of my thumbnail. “You truly think I’m free to bond now that I’ve left the Order? I did promise them . . .”
Fiola pulled a chair close and took my face between her soft, wrinkled hands. “Sweet child, they tore you from your home. You were indoctrinated. Lied to. If not for you, Orianna would have suffered the same fate. I think you can consider yourself free from those ties.”
Her tenderness made my throat thicken with emotion. She knew my history, every confusing and ugly part. And still she embraced me as a daughter. I had to swallow to speak. “But they also trained me, taught me the patterns, showed me how our gift of movement can serve Meriel. I’m still called to dance. That’s how I hope to help Windswell.”
Her eyes swam with compassion and the same sea colors that always lit Brantley’s gaze. “Perhaps the dancers who stay with the Order will choose to never bond. But perhaps it’s time for some dancers to have families. The Maker’s letter offers the blessing of family—including to those who serve with various gifts. And from what you’ve told me about the other island, a world without bonds is a sorry place, indeed.” She brushed a light kiss on my forehead and released me. “Now eat your breakfast. Folks will be gathering. I wish I had more than saltcakes for you.”
I sprang to my feet, weight automatically shifting to my good leg. Each day I learned to work around the injury a bit better. Perhaps one day it wouldn’t be a constant intrusion. “I forgot. Ginerva sent a basket for us.” After hurrying to the side of the room where my pallet rested, I unearthed a bundle of bresh. A day old, but still tender and flakey. I offered one to Fiola.
She clapped her hands and grinned like a child. “Such a treat! You should get bonded more often.”
I nibbled on mine because it would disappoint Ginerva if she learned I hadn’t enjoyed this special breakfast, but I had no appetite. There was no room for hunger in my stomach, where wisps of clouds spun in tickling circles. Even the warm tsalla couldn’t calm me.
The door burst open, and Orianna scampered inside, dirt smudging her best tunic. “Two stenella arrived from Middlemost! There’s a saltar and some other people.”
“You couldn’t stay clean for a few minutes?” Fiola scolded. “Get back out there before you touch anything.”
Unfazed, Orianna grinned at me. “Are you ready, teacher? He’ll be here soon to escort you.”
Brantley’s irrepressible niece wriggled with all her seven-year-old energy and lightened my mood. His folk had wrapped their arms around me long before this bonding day: Orianna’s affection, Fiola’s gentle wisdom, even Brianna’s sisterly approval. What a blessing to be welcomed into this family! I smiled. “Almost ready.”
After a last sip of tsalla, I put on the robe I’d brought from the green village. It fit neatly over my simple white tunic and leggings. I was grateful for something to add over my dancer garb. I didn’t want to offend the saltars by dressing as if I were still in the Order. Bright thread wove across the white silk. The cuffs and hem displayed stitches of ocean waves, stenella with fins outstretched gliding above, trees, flowers, and grain fields blooming with health. A design of hopes.
“Such an unusual garment.” Fiola touched one wide, bell-like sleeve that was so long it covered my hands. Orianna reached for it, and her grandmother batted her hand away. “Scoot, little one. Better yet, I’ll take you over to the lodge. They’ll want some time alone when Brantley comes.” In the doorway, grandmother and granddaughter both threw me one more smile, noses scrunching in the same way, cheeks nudged upward, eyes sparkling.
After they left, the swirling sensation in my center grew in intensity. I took a slow breath as I’d learned to do in my novitiate classes. This was a day for joy. This wasn’t some nerve-wracking dancer test or a dangerous path on an unknown island—but in a similar way, the next hours would change everything. No wonder a hint of anxiety flickered among my excitement and longing. Would I bring joy to Brantley’s life or be a burden? Could we truly create a bond between a dancer from the Order and a rim herder? Such a thing had never been seen since the Order’s existence. I lengthened my spine, leveling my chin. Whatever unknowns we faced, I would give this calling every ounce of commitment. Before I could finish gathering myself, a light tap sounded on the door.
“Come in.” I pushed another lock of hair under the taut white scarf and tightened the belt of the robe.
Brantley threw the door open, then leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed. “You’ll make my knees too weak to walk to the lodge.”
His presence chased away my lingering doubts. He wore a new tawny shirt, hanging loose to his low-slung belt. He still wore his longknife at his hip. I hid a grin. He was as committed to that weapon as he was to me. But he’d foregone the old leather vest and had new pants and kid-leather boots. He’d made an attempt to tame his golden curls, and his hair still glistened from the water. But already one lock tumbled over his forehead into his eyes. He looked so boyish and eager, I felt bold enough to tease. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
He grinned. “I won’t ask you if you’re ready for this. Ready or not, we are bonding today.” Endearing uncertainty flickered across his brow. “All right?”
I limped toward him. “Do you have any second thoughts?”
“I’ve had but one thought since the night I saw you scampering about in the star rain in the Order courtyard.”
Giggles tickled my chest. “You sure didn’t show it then.”
He shifted his weight away from the doorjamb, lowering his head toward mine. “You were causing a few problems in my plan. You seem to be good at that. And I’m hoping you’ll trouble my plans for many years to come.” His breath was sweet with tsalla, and my gaze flickered toward his lips.
He pulled back and offered his arm. “Stop looking at me that way, or the people at the lodge will have a long wait.”
A delighted shiver traced my spine. My own knees were feeling a bit weak, and I was glad for his support as we walked from Fiola’s cottage to the gathering hall.
“They’re coming!” Orianna squealed from the top of the steps, then ducked inside.
We entered the large wooden building and stopped. Benches crowded with people surrounded the open space where I’d once shared the Maker’s letter with Windswell. Torches scented the air with tallow and smoke, and cast sparkling light throughout the room, while open windows allowed in the citrus sea breeze and music of birds and rustling branches. Near the front, Brianna pulled Orianna onto her lap. Saltar Kemp’s regal posture stood out as much as her formal robe. She sat on a bench with other white-clad dancers—the colleagues I’d grown up with, trained with, and served with for a time. Some of the villagers cast uneasy glances toward their row. It would take time for the tension between rimmers and the Order to heal. Thankfully, I saw no such hesitance in the gazes turned my way. Warm smiles lit the faces of Windswell. Children drummed their fingers against their benches in approval until their parents shushed them.
The village’s matriarch rose and opened her arms towa
rd us. Fiola stood beside her, a parchment in her hands—a precious copy of the Maker’s letter.
As a child in the Order, I’d never dreamed of a moment like this. My heart swelled so much I was sure it would burst from my ribs and dance around the room. With Brantley guiding me, I floated past the rows to the center, my limp only a slight hitch in my step. I wanted to look around for more familiar faces—for Ginerva, Starfire, Varney. I wanted to see which dancers had made their way from the tower to be here today. Perhaps Iris had come. But I focused on the matriarch, everything around us a haze. Her wrinkled face was framed by gray hair, so sparse the pink of her scalp showed through. Her shoulders bent, but her eyes were lively and her smile reassuring.
Before the matriarch began the bonding, Fiola read a portion of the letter. “‘When the ocean was vast and empty, He formed our world and breathed life into those who came before. He sets us on a blessed current and guides our course through wind and waves.’” She turned several pages. “‘Love flourishes amid dedication. As the Maker has dedicated Himself to His people, He invites a man and woman to pledge a lifelong promise to each other.’”
She closed the book, and the matriarch raised her hands. “People of Windswell, Carya and Brantley seek to make such a bond. Will you support them?”
Now everyone drummed their fingers on benches, the floor, or a nearby wall—a gentle but fervent rainfall of approval. The affection and support of this village overwhelmed me almost as much as knowing that a man like Brantley could love me. I swayed, and he patted my hand where it had tightened on his arm.
“Breathe,” he whispered.
Determined to display the strength he claimed to see in me, I smiled up at him.
“Do you make this promise freely?” The matriarch’s voice spoke firmly, cutting through the fog in my mind.
We were supposed to simply answer yes, but Brantley and I had discussed an addition to the bonding ceremony. Together we answered, “With the Maker’s care, yes.”
A few murmurs sounded behind us, and more fingers drummed their approval.
“Demonstrate your unity by sharing this cup.” The matriarch nodded to the side, and Orianna skipped forward with a covered basket. Instead of a plain pottery mug, Brantley lifted out a carved bowl, with delicate dancers, soaring stenella, trees, and flowers all worked into the design. The surface glistened with oil that brought out the multi-shaded wood. This wasn’t created on our world. My jaw gaped. “How . . . ?”
Brantley winked at me and mouthed, “Later.”
The matriarch poured water into the bowl, then sprinkled in items as she spoke. “Honey for the sweetness of love, lenka for the tang of life’s challenges, persea to feed your souls and give you strength, and herbs that you may always heal each other’s wounds.”
My hands shook as I lifted the bowl and took a sip. The flavors swirled in my mouth as I tasted our future. It was complex, rich, and full of excitement. I offered the drink to Brantley. He reached for it carefully, as if holding something was almost beyond his capability at the moment. He didn’t tremble as I had, but he stared into the water for two breaths. Then he drank a deep draught and handed the bowl back to the matriarch.
She smiled at us. “And will you be bonded?”
I faced Brantley. That muscle along his jaw twitched, showing me how hard he was working to hold in his emotion. My heart melted. I cleared my throat. “As a herder provides for his village, I promise to give love and fealty to you with all that I am.”
He braced his shoulders and met my gaze. “And as a dancer gives all that she is to serve our world, I promise to give love and fealty to you with all that I am.”
A shocked silence met our pledges—another change to the simple, expected response. Then a man shouted, “Well said!” Someone else whooped, and the whole lodge erupted in drumming and cheering.
My smile grew so large my cheeks hurt, and Brantley stopped fighting to hold his face still, breaking into a giddy expression of joy. Then he grabbed me and swung me around.
With my feet still not touching the ground, he spun me down the stairs and to the open area in front of the meeting hall.
Musicians set up quickly to one side, and rimmers clapped and tapped their feet when the music began. The cluster of dancers from the Order stiffened, eyes wide. Those who had lived in seclusion had only ever danced to the rhythm of drums. All other music was forbidden as a distraction. Once their shock faded, I caught smiles from some and even a bit of swaying. The first time I’d witnessed music and dance in a rim village, I’d been equally horrified and captivated. I smiled, determined to invite my former colleagues to join the dancing later.
Saltar Kemp hurried over and hugged me. New lines carved her features. The past weeks of leading the new Order, with all the changes that involved, had taken a toll. And when Brantley and I hadn’t returned for so long, she’d borne the heavy decision to move Meriel closer to the strange island and wait a little longer for us. “Are you all right?” I asked. “I’ve heard some of the rumors. Has Saltar River caused you trouble? How can I help?”
She brushed aside my questions. “We knew change would take time and not everyone would embrace the forgotten truth in the Maker’s letter. Time enough for those discussions later. This is a day for celebration.” She gave a friendly nod to Brantley, who stayed glued to my side as others approached to congratulate us.
Starfire charged down the lodge steps, weaving through the crowd, arriving breathless. She’d once been so disappointed when she hadn’t been selected for the Order, but watching her irrepressible movement, I realized it might have been a blessing. She needed freedom, not control and precision. We hugged tightly, then she tossed her mass of auburn hair back and laughed. “Think where we were a year ago! Could you have imagined this?”
We’d once huddled together outside the main hall, waiting for our turn to take the final pattern test before the saltars. We’d known no other life outside of sore muscles, precise patterns, and harsh competition. All our dreams had hitched on graduating from novitiate to dancer. We’d both changed, and more importantly, our dreams had changed.
I leaned against Brantley, and he tilted his head to rest on mine. Starfire grinned at us. “Make a visit to Middlemost soon, all right?”
“We will,” I promised.
After she turned away, Brantley canted toward my ear. “And so it begins. You’re speaking for us both now?”
I blushed. “Sorry.” But when I looked up at him, his smile was teasing and warm.
He tucked a strand of hair back into my scarf and let his palm linger against my cheek. “Go ahead and make our plans. You’ve never steered me wrong.”
Brianna approached us next. I searched her face for any sign of regret or hesitation. When her husband—Brantley’s brother—was killed, she had turned to Brantley for support. I’d long feared she held more than sisterly affection toward him. But her happiness for us seemed genuine and free of guile. “I thought Orianna would race to the front before it was time for the shared cup. She was so excited to take part.” She gave me one more squeeze. “Welcome, sister.”
“I promise I’ll look after him.”
She rolled her eyes. “Good fortune with that. He’s not an easy one to keep safe.”
Brantley sniffed and crossed his arms, pretending to be offended. Then he directed his attention to a herder from Undertow who approached us.
The men clasped arms, and the herder gestured toward the sea. “My Javar calved last season. Pesky youngling tags along every time we are out herding and scares off the fish. You’d be doing me a favor if you’d take her off my hands.”
I felt Brantley’s spine tighten. Was this too soon? Would he be offended at this gift? Too heartbroken to train another stenella? I slipped my hand into his, offering support for the emotions I knew were roiling through him.
Jaw square, he gave a tight nod. “Once we’ve built our cottage, I’ll have nothing but time on my hands. I could train her for your village.�
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The man clapped Brantley’s shoulder. “What use would we have for a second stenella? I have no apprentice. No, if you do me the favor of taking on the calf, it’s yours.”
“My thanks,” Brantley said quietly. He tried to respond in the same casual way that the gift had been offered and hide his emotion, but I’d known him long enough to recognize the gleam of new purpose that returned to his eyes.
I gave a happy sigh. A herder without a stenella was as limited as . . . well, as a hobbled dancer. And I didn’t wish that on anyone. His joy made my spirits soar.
A new song started, and more villagers joined a group dance . . . not as elaborate as what we’d watched in the green village of the other island, but as spirited. Brantley’s fingers tapped against his leg. “I’d better get that cottage finished. That calf will pick up an independent mind if she’s not put to training soon.”
A stenella to train was something to be thankful for, but how my heart swelled when Brantley spoke of our cottage. He had staked out a plot of land in view of the sea and had already begun construction. He’d camped there the last few nights but hadn’t yet taken me to see our future home.
I stiffened. “Wait. In all the activity, I forgot. Where will we stay tonight?” I’d been distracted with distribution plans for the seeds and resources we’d delivered, messages to and from Middlemost, and organizing our bonding day. I hadn’t thought beyond this moment.
He laughed. “Your face. The worry dances across your forehead. You’re so easy to read, especially with your hair pulled back like that. Don’t fear. We won’t be camping tonight.”
I elbowed him. “Well, we have spent many a night on the trail.”
“One of the Windswell landkeepers has business in Middlemost. He offered us use of his cottage until he returns.”
Then we were pulled apart and swept into the celebrations. Laughter, music, sunshine, well-wishes. I pushed aside my worry about the problems Saltar Kemp was facing with the Order. Time enough to help with that tomorrow. I savored the interaction with friends, although I longed to finally have a quiet moment alone with my new husband. After a lunch—lavish by rim village standards—people headed back to their work, and Brantley and I slipped away. He led me around a bend to a tiny inlet. A young stenella thrashed about near the shore, tied to a tree with a vine.