“Done something to your hand?” he asked.
Vray became aware that her left hand was still massaging her right. “Sewing. I’m out of practice.”
“You’ve been at it all afternoon?”
“There’s a lot to learn.”
“Your fingers will be stiff in the morning if you don’t get rid of that tension. I’ve an exercise you might try. Very relaxing.” Before Vray could think of a way to politely decline, he reached into his trousers’ pocket and pulled out a smooth gray rock. “Here, catch,” he said. “Now, just toss it gently from one hand to the other. You’d better stand up.”
Vray stood. The rock was a nice size and weight for throwing. She tossed it from her right hand to her left.
“Good. Now back again. That’s right. Now, make it a slow, high arch. That’s better. Your arms and shoulders should feel relaxed. Don’t watch your hands, just let the rock travel. If the upward toss is accurate, the catching is automatic.”
He was right. As she fell into the rhythm of tossing the rock back and forth, her right hand began to loosen up. “It works.”.
“Good. Don’t stop, I’ll be right back.”
Jordy went into the house. Vray made a few more tosses. Relaxing it might be, but it was also boring. Behind her the door opened once more and the carter returned, Matti at his heels. His hands were full of what Vray at first took to be multicolored stones.
“You’ve mastered that,” he said. “Now try it with two.”
“I want to play, Daddy,” Matti said.
“You can catch for Iris.” He held out his hand and Vray returned the rock in exchange for two of the brightly colored objects, which were not stones after all but soft, heavy bags about the size of a child’s fist.
“And one for you,” he said to his eager daughter.
Vray looked uncertainly at the sacks in her hand.
Jordy said, “One in your right hand, one in your left. As the first one passes in front of your eyes, toss the second. Like this.”
She looked up. He took two of the balls and tossed them in the air one after the other. Each arched gracefully over and down into the hand opposite from the one it had left.
Vray tried it. One bag shot out in front of her while the second fell wide of her belatedly groping hand. Matti ran to retrieve them while Jordy offered her two more.
“Try again.”
She tried several times. Pepper came around the corner of the house, and her face lit with excitement when she saw what they were doing.
“Daddy, let me try!”
“Not too close.” Jordy handed two balls to her. “Give Iris plenty of room.”
Pepper tossed one of the balls back and forth a few times, then started on two. Jordy demonstrated for Vray yet again, each of his tosses a perfect arc from one hand to the other. “Slow and easy,” he told her.
Vray, watching his hands, blinked. “This is juggling!”
A smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Not yet. Three objects, now that’s juggling.” With that, he picked up a third little sack, and toss toss toss, all three were moving, arcing before his eyes, falling into his hands, only to be gently tossed upward again. It looked so simple, so easy. So relaxing. Vray looked from him to Pepper, who was making symmetrical tosses with her two sacks, then back to her own hands.
After a few more false tries she did it. Toss toss, catch catch. After that the yard was filled with flying colored sacks and the excited squeals of Matti as she chased those that escaped from Vray and Pepper. Vray stepped away from the porch to give herself more room, and so that she could face away from the westering sun. Jordy, juggling all the while, took her place and sat comfortably on the edge of the porch. Vray noticed that the pattern of his juggling varied every few moments, the sacks arcing now higher, now lower, now moving in circles instead of arches.
Pepper picked up a third sack. She could get all three in the air but couldn’t keep going for more than a few seconds. However, Matti was more than willing to chase the ones she dropped, and Pepper kept practicing.
Just as she was considering trying a third sack herself, Vray saw Tob climbing the hill from the road. A very odd expression crossed his face as he saw what they were doing.
“Not you, too!” he said to Vray.
“Now, Tob,” his father cautioned from the porch.
She stopped uncertainly, and glanced from Jordy to Tob. “You don’t like juggling?”
“Oh, I like it. It’s just beginning to seem I’m the only person in the kingdom who can’t do it.” He made a sudden, playful grab at Pepper, who retreated, giggling. “And no gloating from you, either.”
“It’s a matter of coordination,” Jordy explained calmly. “Tob simply hasn’t the eye for it.”
“Tobble can climb trees,” Matti announced.
The door of the house opened soundlessly and Cyril came onto the porch.
Tob smiled at Vray. “Anyway, don’t let me interrupt. Just watch where you’re throwing those things.”
“Actually,” Jordy began in a distinctly lecturing tone. “The knack is in not watching them.”
Behind him Cyril had picked up her broom. As one of the sacks Jordy was juggling rose to the peak of its arch his wife, a hint of a smile on her face, knocked it aside with one well-aimed swipe of the broom.
“Wha—?” His rhythm hopelessly broken, Jordy’s hands faltered and the other two bags fell around him.
Tob grinned. “Weren’t watching that one, were you, Dad?” The girls giggled as their father twisted around and reached for Cyril, who stepped nimbly away.
Vray, completely caught up in the relaxed, unthreatening mood of the family, laughed too.
* * *
“Where’s Rose?”
Ruudy glanced around the kitchen as though noticing for the first time that his wife was not there. Dael smiled behind his hand. Rose was usually in the same place, but Ruudy never seemed able to remember where that was.
“In the workroom,” Dael suggested to his mother.
“Well, of course she’s in the workroom.” Deenit finished removing a large pan of nutbread from the oven as she spoke. The honeyed aroma had been filling the kitchen for the past hour, attracting every male in the family to the large, high-ceilinged room at the back of the house. Dael sat with his father and two brothers, each with a mug of herb tea on the table in front of him.
Deenit continued, “She said she only had to finish one gem and then she would help me pack the food.”
Loras gestured casually toward his middle son. “Ruudy, go get your wife.”
“She’ll yell at him,” Nocca offered helpfully.
“I know that. That’s why I’m sending him instead of going myself. She’s the best gem-cutter I’ve ever worked with, but she doesn’t appreciate having her concentration broken.”
“That’s probably part of what makes her such a talented gem-cutter.” Deenit swung her single long, graying yellow braid behind her back with a twist of her head. “Loras, what did you do with the basket?”
Dael watched his father jump obediently to his feet. “It was in the shop. I’ll get it.”
“You could get Rose while you’re out there,” Ruudy called to no effect. Loras was already gone. Sighing, Ruudy pushed his chair away from the table and announced to the room in general, “I love my wife. She loves me. Dael, can I borrow a shield from the guardroom?”
“The guardroom is fifteen minutes’ walk from here,” Nocca said.
Ruudy nodded. “I know.”
“Go,” his mother commanded.
Ruudy went. Dael finished his tea, then wandered to the fireplace to pour himself another mug. Festival day. It was good to be with family. He would have liked to spend the whole day listening to his parents tease each other and all of their children, watching Ruudy and Rose’s quiet romance, eating his mother’s and every other neighborhood household’s best cooking. He would at least get a slice or two of that nutbread before he left for the castle. No Spri
ng Festival was complete for anyone living in this section of the city without Deenit’s nutbread. People remembered it from year to year as much as they did the Story of Beginnings.
This year they’d have only the nutbread.
Being Captain of the Guard and a disciplined man, he turned his mind back to nutbread. When he was very young he had gone through a year or two of resenting the fact that his mother shared such a wonderful food with all their neighbors. He had been sure that if their family kept all that she baked it would last several ninedays and he could have most of it for himself. But Deenit had always insisted that it was the one dish she wished to share at Festival time. “Festivals are for celebrating,” she would lecture him. “I celebrate my heritage with foods I ate as a child in Sitrine.” Dael had never wanted to hear the explanation. Later, he’d come to be proud of her accomplishments, of her popularity and generosity, of the contributions to their lives that were uniquely Sitrinian.
The very Sitrinian smells of lemon, almond, and saffron had by this time permeated every corner and crevice of the big kitchen. When they returned at nightfall the aroma would be lingering in their bedrooms. One more good reason to come home to his family’s house on Festival night. Dael returned to the table, to stand behind his mother’s shoulder. “Don’t hover,” she said, “and before you ask, no.”
“But Mom….”
“At the Festival.”
“I may not make it for the meal,” he said, then regretted the admission as she whirled around, hands going to her hips.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I have to be at the castle. Orders.”
“It’s Festival day! Those at the castle won’t need guards today.”
“Mom, I won’t be there either,” Nocca admitted. Dael flashed him a quick smile of gratitude. Their mother’s anger was usually easier to take when it was divided among several of them. “We’re having a parade.”
Loras came back in time to hear that. “A parade? A parade of what? Why?”
“You’ll see,” Dael said. He had no intention of trying to explain. Loras and Deenit would be upset enough when the decision to cancel the Redmother tales was made known, unlike others in the town, who either wouldn’t care or would be glad to be relieved of the boredom. He wasn’t going to ruin his parents’ morning with news they’d hear soon enough.
“That’s not an answer,” Deenit began.
Before she could get truly started, the door from the front of the house swung open to admit Nocca’s girlfriend and partner in the guards, Peanal. Peanal was a small young woman, freckled and cute, a short sword swinging from her belt. She had a pleasant disposition and a wicked technique to her sword work, fast and agile. All were traits that Dael liked in one of his guards. He wasn’t as sure how he’d like her as a sister-in-law, but then she and Nocca had only been together since late winter, and hadn’t yet made up their minds about anything.
She was on duty, so she ignored Nocca except for a passing grin, and came directly toward Dael. “Captain, you asked to be informed of the inspection. It’s time.”
“I’ll be right there.” He turned his best wheedling look on his mother. “Can I take just one piece? Please?”
She sliced the bread, sending wisps of fragrant steam upward. When she removed the first piece she placed it on a cloth and handed it to the girl. “Here, dear. You must be hungry.”
“Mother!”
Nocca slipped past Dael and stood next to Peanal. “I better go, too. I’ll share yours, all right?”
“You’ll do no such thing.” Deenit handed out a second portion of the bread. When Loras moved toward the table, Dael planted himself squarely in the way.
“My turn,” he announced firmly.
His mother kissed him on the cheek and handed over the rest of the loaf. “Don’t eat it all at once,” she warned. “You know what a stomachache it used to give you.”
“Mother!”
“Yes?”
“Don’t embarrass me in front of my guards,” he muttered.
“It’s just your brother and Peanal.”
“I’m leaving now.” He knew when to retreat. “Enjoy yourselves. We’ll be back as soon as we can. Tonight at the latest.”
“Where is Rose?” His mother waved them out the door as she turned her attention back to the work to be done. “If she’s injured Ruudy it will ruin the entire day.”
Chuckling under his breath, Dael shepherded the two younger guards out of the house.
* * *
The largest barn in Juniper Ridge was just large enough to accommodate all of the tables and benches required by the village population for the spring festival. Doron placed her crock of vegetable stew at the edge of the makeshift hearth in the center of the floor, then squeezed through the crowd in the direction of the wine barrels. Outside, a late-season storm was coating every fence post and tree trunk with damp snow. Inside, the well-tended fire, combined with the warm breath and bodies of many people, made the barn completely comfortable.
Doron smelled wet wool as a strong, slender hand came to rest on her forearm. “The joys of the season to you, dyer,” said the familiar voice.
“So it’s you, is it?”
Pirse, with typical Shaper arrogance, ignored the challenge in her tone. “I’ve told you before, I just can’t seem to stay away.”
She allowed him to draw her away from the dense knot of people near the wine table. He had obviously just arrived. The shoulders of his cloak were dark with damp, and melting snowflakes glistened in his black hair and eyelashes.
“The whole winter we heard nothing of you,” Doron complained.
“I went so far north that I saw no people for ninedays at a time. Which reminds me, I have a favor to ask.”
“Naturally.”
Others were becoming aware of the prince in their midst. Pirse acknowledged some greetings and allowed a youngster to carry his cloak up to the loft to dry. He looks well, at least, Doron thought. The prince may have been in exile as far as Bronle was concerned, but he hadn’t been abandoned by Dherrica itself. As long as he stayed true to his vows, Keepers wouldn’t be able to help themselves responding to him and sheltering him. And Doron was no exception.
A shift in the throng left them alone again. “It does seem that all I ever do is ask for things,” Pirse said in answer to her comment. Or perhaps, her thoughts. “But this is important. Dragon’s ears. Three sets. I would have left them with Morb at Dundas, but I had to bypass a patrol. Then the weather worsened and I didn’t want to double back.”
Doron pursed her lips. “There’s Damic in Dundas. He usually comes south for a bit of trading around midsummer. Will he know how to find your wizard?”
“Aye. But it needn’t be someone from Dundas. If Jordy comes through first and is willing to take them to Garden Vale and the Greenmother there, that would be fine.”
“Fine indeed. You won’t be here to listen to him complain.”
Pirse slid an arm around her waist and bestowed one of his more charming smiles upon her. “So, you do miss me when I’m gone.”
The impulse to slap the knowing smirk off his pretty face wrestled with an equal impulse to entwine her body around his then and there. She compromised by leaning into his embrace long enough to bite him, not gently, on the nose.
His hand moved from her waist to cup her breast from beneath, half warning, half promise. She didn’t know her mouth was still open as she gazed into the sparkling eyes level with her own until he tilted his head slightly and caught her in a kiss. She stopped hearing the conversations going on around them, stopped thinking, stopped breathing. Nothing was real but the taste and smell and touch of this one aggravating obsession.
They separated reluctantly. Doron’s mind resumed working, and thoughts assumed astonishing clarity. What was the matter with her? With him? With them? She knew the prince was as unnerved by their mutual attraction as she was. Each time they met, they were drawn together more strongly, mo
re insistently, than the last. Unnerving, because on all other levels they tended to bicker and disagree. He was a Shaper, by the gods! She didn’t like Shapers. There was certainly no rational excuse for his behavior. Anyone would have thought that dragons, roving Abstainers, and the enmity of his uncle would have required Pirse’s full concentration. Yet ever since the few ninedays he’d spent recuperating in her care, he had returned to Juniper Ridge for each festival, as well as scattered days between when time allowed. One or two casual stops she might have considered gratitude. But gratitude had long since ceased to be an adequate explanation.
“Are you busy after lunch?” he asked.
It made no sense. Even as she thought it she found herself saying, “Only with you.”
Chapter 20
“This village needs another Redmother,” Canis said as she took a seat next to Jordy on the inn steps.
Jordy turned his head to look at the fisherwoman. The steps were still in shadow, not yet warmed by the early spring sunlight. A mug of warm cider steamed between Canis’s bony hands. He drained his own mug and glanced from Canis to the girl folded up in the shadows and one of Cyril’s old shawls. He tipped his head toward the group of children he hoped she would soon decide to join, but Iris ignored the prompting. Most of the young people of Broadford were in the square, preparing it for the festival. Some draped garlands of mixed dried and early-blooming flowers on every building eave, rail, and fence post, while others were setting up trestle tables for the feast. A double dozen youngsters laughed and enjoyed each others’ company in the dawn-lit square, while Iris clung silently by his side. Even Ivey, who’d arrived late the night before, was up on a ladder, taking directions meekly from the prettiest girl in the village.
Jordy’d brought Iris, along with Matti and Pepper, to help with the decorating. The little ones were doing what they could and not getting too much in the older children’s way, but his new charge didn’t seem to know how to join in the fun. Jordy scowled and turned his attention back to Canis.
Moons' Dreaming (Children of the Rock) Page 21