Aerie
Page 30
Kaleth scratched his head. “As I am the Chosen of Seft . . .” he began. “My advice would be to make the difficult choice to tell you that his duties lie to a higher authority than his mother.”
As Letis’ eyes widened, Kiron seized the moment. “I am very sorry for you, Mother, but I have already provided for you every thing that a filial son should. You are well cared for. You have a house, a comfortable life, even servants, which is more than you had when Father was alive. The Chosen is right; my duty to my King and Queen, my land, and my Jousters supersedes any duties to obey you, when you demand things that are not only not possible, but possibly foolish.” He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at her. “In a word, Mother, no. No, I will not give up my duty. No, I will not get back the farm. And no, I certainly will not marry Peri.” He looked apologetically at poor Peri, caught in the middle and red as a sunset. “Peri is a very pleasant young woman, but I will marry Lady Aket-ten, and we will train the next generations of Jousters, male and female, and we will make Aerie our home.”
Letis spluttered for a moment, then turned to Peri. “Don’t just stand there! Tell him!”
For a very long moment there was only silence. And Kiron was struck by the uncomfortable possibility that poor Peri—
She had spent a great deal of time with him. Gone out of her way to keep him company. He had put it all down to just being two people with a very similar background cheering each other up, but what if—his mother hadn’t gotten his notion that he would be marrying her out of nothing. What if this was something that his mother had been cooking up all along? And what if that was what Peri wanted and expected?
“Then I must make a difficult choice, too,” Peri said slowly. “Because it is more than time that I did so.” She turned to Kiron’s mother. “Letis,” she said forcefully. “Shut up.”
Letis could not possibly have looked more astonished if those words had come from the mouth of Kiron’s cat.
“Kiron does not care for me except as another Jouster,” Peri went on. “Nor do I care for him except as he is a kind and generous man. And I will not give up Sutema, nor my position here, nor all the responsibility nor all the pleasures that taking that responsibility brings. Especially not for the life of a farmer’s wife, which is better than being a serf only in that I would be free.” She snorted, clearly both amused and angry. “Free, that is until the first babies come, when I would be bound more closely than if I had been clapped on a slave coffle. So Letis, I love you as my friend, but no. I will not marry your son. Let him wed his love, and let them live as happily as they can.”
Letis gaped at her, then managed to splutter, “Then you will die a childless old maid!”
“I think not,” Marit said thoughtfully, looking at both Peri and Letis. “But even if so . . . there are worse fates.”
“Aye, being a farmer’s wife,” said Peri.
“It is safe!” Letis cried out, her face reflecting her bewilderment. “It is safe, and certain! Great Mother River rises and falls, the seasons turn and every one is like the one the year before! You know where you are, you know your place, and Great Kings can come and go and it matters nothing at all!”
Peri went to the window, gesturing out at the dragons, perched and flying, everywhere. “Safe, true, but how boring! How confining! How sad! How could that compare with this? And what is safe? You were not safe on your little farm. War came to you and took all your safety away! If I am to be in this world, I want more than to be a hound upon the game board, tucked away in a corner until the jackals come and sweep all away!”
Letis looked from one to another of them. “You are all, all of you mad,” she said at last. Then mustering the shreds of her dignity, she raised her chin. “I am returning to Mefis and the daughter who appreciates me.”
She stalked off. The three Jousters looked at one another, and then at Kaleth and Marit . . . . . . hounds upon the game board . . . swept up by the Gods and now . . .
And given what Kiron had just been through . . .
“She may be right,” he said finally. “We may all be mad.”
Kaleth shrugged. “Then I choose to be mad, rather than blind,” he retorted, and smiled. “Besides, if it is madness, it is glorious madness, a madness that builds rather than merely endures. I choose to be the hawk, not the calf. And there is a great deal to be said for that.”
The hawk and not the calf . . . He thought about that, and about something else. As below, so above. If the Gods had moved him on the board . . . still, the people moved Them. The manipulation, it seemed, went both ways.
“A difficult choice,” he agreed. “But yes. I choose the hawk.”
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY