Moons' Dreaming (Children of the Rock)

by Krause, Marguerite

  “Not hurt?” Ivey complained. He lifted an imaginary bucket of water and groaned. “My arms may never recover.”

  Herri snorted wearily. “Don’t expect sympathy from him. A few hundred buckets of water would mean nothing to you, would they, carter?

  Jordy lowered himself into a chair. “They may have meant the difference between saving or losing this inn, or the entire village. We owe you our thanks, minstrel.”

  “You shouldn’t have needed such help. This should never have happened.”

  “The worst of it was letting them ride out of here with the boy.” Herri’s great fists clenched on the table. “When do you leave for Edian, Jordy? You’ll have to carry our grievance to the law reader. Not just for Kessit and Jaea, but for all of us.”

  “Don’t expect too much,” Ivey said. “The men who were here tonight may be conveniently unknown in Edian.”

  “D’ye see, Herri? It’s as I’ve said before. We can’t look to Shapers to solve our problems.”

  “It’s one thing to fight a fire. It’s another to expect villagers to stand against the king’s guard. You saw what happened tonight.”

  A gloomy silence settled over the room. Ivey said, quite casually, “I would think it’s a matter of planning. Organization. Your people aren’t helpless. They defend their families and property from bears in the fall, and wolves in the winter.”

  “Our fellow Keepers aren’t marauding animals to be hunted down, no matter how they might behave,” Herri said.

  Jordy pursed his lips thoughtfully. “It’s not a question of killing, necessarily.” He had not liked feeling helpless, and his fingers had itched for his bow. “If a few of our best archers had slipped away in the first confusion, gone onto the roof here, or into the shadows of the trees, we would have controlled the square.”

  “As if anyone could have imagined such a thing,” Herri said.

  “Proper leadership,” Ivey said. “That’s what’s needed.”

  Jordy eyed the two men. “What about discipline? Instant obedience. There’s no time for questions when a crisis comes.”

  “You’re respected, Jordy,” Ivey said. “You’ll find that people listen to you. Besides, I’ve no fears for Broadford.” His pointed emphasis on the name was unmistakable, his implication clear.

  “I agree. We can’t ignore the rest of Rhenlan. The other Shapers won’t object to Hion’s abuse of power. They’ve found too many ways to profit from it, their responsibilities forgotten or ignored. Until every town, every village in Rhenlan takes control of its own affairs, defies the abuses of the king, things will only get worse.”

  Herri lowered his gaze to the table. Ivey’s quiet voice said, “You’re suggesting revolution.”

  “Aye. Do you not agree with me, Herri?”

  Herri sighed as he met his gaze. “I agree with you. And may the gods protect us all.”

  Chapter 23

  The minstrel looped his pony’s lead rope around his hand as they approached the ford. “The law reader in Edian is a good man,” Ivey said.

  “He’s a Shaper.”

  “Those two qualities aren’t mutually exclusive, you know.”

  Jordy grunted. It was the morning after the Festival, time for the minstrel to be on his way. He’d asked Jordy to accompany him out of the village. “In your opinion,” Jordy answered the younger Dherrican. He forestalled a lecture on the perils of generalization by adding, “Which I respect. You don’t have to tell me my business, laddie. I’m not prejudging the man. He may be honest, aye, and conscientious. What I’m doubting is his influence.”

  “King Hion wouldn’t keep a law reader if he wasn’t making some use of him.”

  They reached the bank of the river. The first snow melt in the mountains far to the west was just beginning to be noticeable in the behavior of the Broad. The waters were still placid, but they had risen several inches in as many days. Ripples marked the location of most of the flat stones of the ford; the chatter of the water was loud enough to force them to raise their voices.

  “Using him to placate the ignorant,” Jordy said. “Well, I won’t have it.”

  Ivey stopped and turned toward him. “This wasn’t an isolated incident. He’ll have heard other stories like yours.”

  “And done nothing. I told you what they’re saying in Cross Cove.”

  “Dissatisfaction is growing everywhere, Jordy. Even in Edian itself.”

  Jordy studied the minstrel’s serious face, then gave a reluctant nod. “Even in the court itself?”

  “Aye.” Ivey urged the pony into the water. “Should I wait for you in Atade?”

  “Not this year. You might wait a long time. I’m going to be in and out of Broadford to keep an eye on the girl.” The minstrel looked surprised. Jordy shrugged. “There’s no help for it. If my usual customers can’t wait for me, they’ll just have to find someone else.”

  “I’ll pass the word. As for the king’s guard, if I learn anything that I think might interest you I’ll leave messages where I can.”

  “Good. I’ll be listening.”

  Ivey waded across the river beside his pony. “Travel safely, carter,” he called in farewell.

  “And you.” The younger man raised a hand in acknowledgment without looking back.

  Jordy stayed on the river bank until Ivey and the pony were safely across and had disappeared into the thick woods on the other side. Then he started back for the village square. He had several people to visit this afternoon if he and Tob were to get off to an early start in the morning.

  * * *

  Frost silvered the roof of stable and goat shed, glistened treacherously on each blade of grass, but his exertions warmed Tob as he helped his father load the wagon in the pale, clear dawn. Stockings’ breath drifted gently upward as she waited patiently, undisturbed by the thuds, rattles, and creaking going on a few feet behind her. Jordy paused occasionally in his arrangement of the crates, rolls, and parcels to visually measure the space remaining and compare it to the piles of goods still to be loaded. Sometimes he asked Tob’s opinion, not because he needed advice, but to test his apprentice’s eye and memory. When he could, Tob waved to Matti, who watched wide-eyed from the window. Pepper was still asleep. She didn’t like to get up early, and she didn’t like to say good-bye.

  Iris came out of the house, her arms barely long enough to manage Cyril’s largest wicker hamper. Tob lifted the last sack of feed onto the tailboard of the wagon, then helped the girl place the hamper next to it. Jordy lashed the final barrel into place before coming to examine the hamper.

  “Cyril wants you to take it,” Iris offered diffidently.

  Jordy lifted the lid. “Extra honey, good. And grape jam. Surprised your mother parted with that. I suppose we can trade it.”

  “Dad!” Tob protested.

  “Just teasing, lad. Thank you, Iris. I see you’re learning to understand Cyril.”

  “I suppose so.” She fidgeted with the handle on one side of the hamper. “Jordy?”

  “Yes, lass?” He closed the hamper and fastened it. When Iris didn’t continue, Jordy sat down on a crate. “Now, you’re not still worried, are you? I know Matti’s hardly more than a baby, but Pepper’s a good girl. She’ll be company for you. And when you need someone older to talk to, Canis would welcome a visit anytime. You remember where their house is.”

  “Jordy?” Iris repeated, as though she hadn’t been listening to a word he said. “May I ask a favor?”

  Tob shifted his feet. At this rate, Iris was going to dither half the morning away. A band of pink stretched along the horizon now, brightest in the east. The last stars had faded to invisibility behind the growing lightness of the sky. At the bottom of the hill the birdsong from the hedgerow had risen to clamorous levels. If they didn’t leave soon, they’d never reach their usual first campsite by nightfall.

  Jordy gave no sign that he was aware of the impending sunrise, the miles to be traveled, Tob’s existence, or anything other than the girl who
struggled to look him in the face. “If I can,” he told her. “What is it?”

  “Broadford needs… that is… Canis says… since my aunt, actually my cousin—” She bit her lip and started again, the words finally tumbling out in a coherent order. “If Driss dies, Broadford will have no Redmother and that’s not right. I have the training. Let me spend some time with her. Let me become the new Redmother. Canis says there’s no one else. I won’t let it interfere with what needs to be done here. I can get up early, or work after the rest of the family’s in bed if that’s what it takes, but I really should spend as much time as I can with Driss, as long as she’s strong enough to talk, to learn the village history—”

  As soon as she paused for breath, Jordy said, “Iris.” She flinched, although Tob saw no reason for it. His father wasn’t angry, just anxious to get a word in while he could. “I approve.”

  She looked at him as though he’d said something complicated. “You do?”

  “Aye. It’s a fine idea. Herri asked me if you would consider it, but I told him you might need time to become comfortable with us before committing yourself. Being Redmother can be a big responsibility.”

  The girl slowly—very slowly as far as Tob was concerned—absorbed a few fragments of meaning from Jordy’s words. “The innkeeper thought of me? He doesn’t know me.”

  “He heard your Story of Beginnings at the festival. We all did.” Jordy’s exasperation finally broke through. “Stones, girl, this isn’t Soza. No one’s going to stop you doing what you do best. I’m not going to insist that you muck out the chicken coop or reshingle the stable roof if you’re ready and able to use your Redmother skills instead. Neither is Cyril. Don’t imagine you have to work all day and half the night to please her. Ask Tob here.”

  “Mom’s very independent,” Tob assured her. Then he glanced involuntarily to his right. The first sliver of sun peaked over the horizon and began to expand.

  Iris caught the direction of his gaze and looked guilty. “I’m sorry. I’m keeping you. I should have mentioned this earlier.”

  “You’re not keeping us.” Jordy pushed to his feet. “Anything left?” he asked Tob.

  “The bedrolls, and Stockings’ grooming kit.”

  Jordy jumped down from the wagon. “Iris will help you. I’m going to talk to your mother.”

  Tob didn’t really need any help, but he led Iris into the stable and allowed her to carry the sturdy sack of grooming supplies back to the wagon. Tob stowed the sack and bedrolls near the hamper, raised the tailboard, and hooked it in place. “Well,” he said to the silently watching Iris. “That’s that.”

  The door of the house swung open, and Matti tore across the yard. Jordy followed, Pepper clinging to his back with her arms around his neck and her bare legs jutting out past his waist.

  “I want to go with you as far as the square,” Pepper said as Jordy reached the wagon, turned around, and deposited her on the footrest below the driver’s seat.

  “No.”

  “You’ve got chores,” Tob reminded her.

  “It’s too cold for bare feet,” was Matti’s helpful comment.

  “You could run and get my shoes,” Pepper suggested to her little sister.

  Tob hugged the two little girls, one after the other, without interrupting their conversation.

  Matti smiled up at Jordy and held out her arms. “I love you, Daddy.”

  “My wee mischief maker,” Jordy told her as he swung her into his arms. “You’ve two sisters to listen to now. That’s twice the work, you know.”

  “I can do it,” Matti answered with unshakable confidence.

  Jordy put her down, received a fierce hug from Pepper, and firmly disentangled himself from her. “Off you go, now.”

  Pepper looked down from the wagon, appalled. “My feet will freeze!”

  “Now, Pepper.”

  Iris stepped closer. “I could carry you,” she suggested.

  Pepper considered the distance back to the house, considered the set to Jordy’s jaw, smiled brightly, and said, “Thank you,” as she clambered onto Iris’s back. They moved away from the wagon, Matti trotting after them. Jordy took Stockings’ lead rope in his hand.

  “G’dup,” he told the horse. Over his shoulder he said, “We’ll see you in a few ninedays.”

  “Bye, Daddy!”

  “Bye, Tobble!”

  Stocking leaned into the harness and the wagon began to roll. Tob followed it, walking backwards a few paces to wave to his sisters. He caught a glimpse of his mother watching in the doorway and waved at her, too. One of the cats emerged from the stable, blinked in the sunlight, and stretched. Matti went toward it. Iris started to carry Pepper back to the porch.

  Tob turned around and ran to catch up with the wagon.

  * * *

  The attic was very quiet. Vray knew she was only imagining it, but the house seemed to echo with emptiness in the absence of the carter and his son.

  A small voice spoke in the darkness. “Iris, are you asleep?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “We’re glad you’re here. Me and Matti. It used to always be lonely when Tob was away.”

  “Thank you. I miss him, too.”

  “Iris, do you know any stories?”

  “A few,” she admitted. Her training as a Redmother had begun when she was younger than Pepper. As far as she knew, Vissa had told her every story that there was. Much of the oral and written tradition and history of a dozen kingdoms was stored in her memory.

  “Will you tell us one?”

  “You’re supposed to be going to sleep.”

  Rustling noises came from the direction of the little girls on their bed. “Just one or two. Please?”

  Vray relented. “About what?” She sat up and clasped her arms around her updrawn knees. A scuffle in the darkness warned her just before two small bodies joined her on her bed.

  “Monsters,” Matti announced immediately. “One we’ve never heard of before.”

  “You’ve heard of dragons?” Vray asked.

  “Lots of times.”

  “Wind demons?”

  “They’re boring,” Pepper complained.

  “How about fire bears?”

  The suggestion earned her an enthusiastic “Oooh,” from her audience.

  Pepper said, “I’ve never even heard of a fire bear. Where do they live?”

  “There aren’t any anymore. Originally they lived only to the north of here. But for a while there were some as far south as White Water, and all through the Dherrican mountains.”

  “What did they do?” Pepper asked.

  “Why aren’t there any anymore?” Matti added.

  “Tell us about one.”

  Vray rocked thoughtfully on the base of her spine. “I can tell you a couple of short stories about long-ago heroes who killed fire bears, or I could tell you one kind of long story about the last fire bear. Which will it be?”

  “The long story,” Matti replied instantly.

  “All right,” Pepper conceded.

  “Fire bears lived along the seacoast of Rhenlan for centuries of centuries,” Vray began. “They were taller than any other bear that ever was. Taller even than the gray bears of the cold south in Dherrica. They had no fear of the Children of the Rock. Usually they hunted alone, but sometimes a whole pack would attack a village and the people would have to find ways to fight them off until the nearest king could send a brave Shaper hero to kill them.”

  “Why were they called fire bears?” Matti interrupted.

  “Because the tiniest bite or scratch from one of them would burn like fire. Even a small injury could kill a person.”

  “What did they eat?” Pepper asked.

  “What does any monster like to eat?” Vray answered question for question.

  “Us?” Matti asked.

  “That’s right. Now, let me go on. A time came when people noticed that fire bears were beginning to change. From one summer to the next, Keepers and Shapers all throu
gh the kingdoms found hundreds and hundreds of dead bodies of old fire bears, and tracks of a new, smaller sort of fire bear. At first, the Shapers and Keepers who usually had to fight them thought this was a good idea. But the Dreamers warned that it wasn’t right. Some evil magic was working, and the gods were displeased.”

  “Who was working the evil magic?” Pepper asked.

  “The Dreamers say we have enemies outside the world who are always trying to find a way in.”

  “Everybody knows that,” Matti complained.

  Pepper was not satisfied. “How can there be anything outside the world? The world is the world.”

  “I don’t understand it either,” Vray said. “But monsters aren’t like other animals, are they? The wind demons don’t even have bodies.”

  “Maybe they’re just bad weather,” Pepper suggested.

  “You wouldn’t think so if you felt one,” Vray told her.

  “I want to hear the story,” Matti said.

  Pepper remained silent, so Vray continued, “Soon Shapers and Keepers, children and adults, began to die. The medicines that Brownmothers could use had no effect. All of the Greenmothers spent days and days trying to heal people. Then the Dreamers began to die, too. Finally the wizard Herfin realized that a new sickness had come into the world.”

  “I’ve heard this,” Pepper interrupted excitedly. “Wizard Herfin is the one who discovered the plague, and Greenmother Gavea is the one who cured it.”

  “That’s basically right,” Vray said. “But I’m telling you a more complicated version. Should I keep going? Or isn’t it interesting?”

  “Keep going,” Matti said. “I want to know what happened to the fire bears.”

  “The new sickness came from the fire bears. Many, many of the Children died before Herfin discovered that the droppings of the fire bear could put the illness into the soil or the water, and from there into us. Not everyone who had the illness, the plague, died. Some became very sick. Some didn’t become sick at all. But very often, when it was time for them to have children, the children died.”

  “Not all the children,” Pepper said. “Otherwise we wouldn’t be here.”