Moons' Dreaming (Children of the Rock)

by Krause, Marguerite

  Chasa tried not to frown as he started back toward the estate. He heard his father call after him, “We’ll see you for supper.”

  Feather’s voice, lively with affectionate teasing, carried clearly down the quiet street. “Shouldn’t you be wearing a hat?”

  His father laughed ruefully. “Not you, too!”

  “Here.”

  Chasa glanced behind him. Feather stood on tiptoe to settle her new hat on the king’s head. It looked ridiculous.

  “I look ridiculous,” his father complained. But he did not reach up to take it off again.

  Chasa turned his back on the conversation. Uncomfortable and unhappy, he continued slowly back to the house.

  * * *

  “Hi.”

  Ivey looked up sharply. “Your Highness?”

  The very attractive princess of Sitrine stood near the arched trellis that served as entrance to the garden grape arbor. Ivey, sitting on the railing of the terrace outside the garden with his eight-string guitar on his thigh, smiled his pleasure at seeing her. Jeyn’s pale hair hung loose around her shoulders. Her blue silk dress, high-waisted and low-necked, displayed her advantages—to advantage, Ivey concluded with an appreciative smirk. When he’d passed through Raisal last fall she had been off somewhere checking on the kingdom’s law readers, and the spring before that he’d been on and off of the royal estate so fast he’d only had time for one audience with the king. With one thing and another, it had been nearly two years since they’d had a real conversation. The last time she’d bent his ear with news of Aage—that is, when she wasn’t complaining about her betrothed, the builder. She had asked him a lot about his travels, too, and about his family, his friends, and whether he had any current girlfriends.

  “I didn’t know you were here.” She came through the archway, a book in one hand. “Are you busy?”

  “No. Not at all.” He hastily put his guitar aside. “Just practicing.”

  She came up to the terrace and rested her elbows on the railing beside him. “That sounds like work. I shouldn’t disturb you.”

  “Don’t think of it as a disturbance. Think of it as inspiration. Artists need inspiration.”

  “Overt flattery.” She nodded emphatically. “I like that. Do some more.”

  “It is my profession.”

  “Part of your profession. What have you and Dad been up to lately?”

  “I thought you wanted to be flattered.”

  “I can be flattered anytime.” She turned and set the book on the railing, then gracefully vaulted up to sit beside him. “I was busy when you met with Dad this morning.”

  He folded his arms. “That’s right. The king was annoyed that you weren’t there.”

  She looked a little sheepish. “I was busy.”

  “Oh?”

  “Having a fight.”

  “You’re still not married to Daav. The king mentioned that, too. You’re lucky your father is so fond of you. He wouldn’t put up with that much dereliction of duty from any other member of the court.”

  “We’ve talked about that,” she admitted, then changed the subject. “About the meeting?”

  Should I humor a pretty girl? Ivey thought with amusement. All blonde and tan, brown-eyed like her twin and outwardly much more clever. Would a clever girl allow herself to be humored? Only if she wanted to be. She did say she liked being flattered. “It was a nice meeting. You should’ve been there.”

  “Ivey!”

  “Not that we really missed you. There was another pretty girl there.”

  “You’ve met Feather.”

  “Cute name. Cute kid. She and Chasa will make a nice couple.”

  “If they ever get the chance. He’s hardly been home since she got here.” She drummed her fingers on the stone surface of the railing. “And you’re not telling me about the meeting.”

  “Do you really want to talk about the meeting?”

  “For the moment, yes.”

  “Yes, tell us about the meeting,” Chasa agreed, coming onto the terrace from the house. He sat down beside his sister, who absently put a hand on his shoulder and brushed aside his windblown hair. Chasa turned his gaze on Ivey. “We just love hearing about meetings.”

  The prince sounded annoyed. He and Jeyn shared the same expression of dissatisfaction, which made their resemblance even more striking.

  “Among other things, your father asked me to determine if there’s been as much increase in Abstainer activity on Rhenlan’s side of the border as there has been here.”

  “He doesn’t ask much, does he?”

  Jeyn elbowed her brother to silence. “Did you bring him an answer?”

  “Do I ever fail an assignment?” She eyed him skeptically, so he temporized, “Do I often fail assignments? Never mind. Yes, I was able to answer a few of his questions. My friends in Rhenlan haven’t noticed any increase in Abstainer activity. If anything, there’ve been fewer incidents this year than last.”

  “The weather’s been mild. That could account for it, I suppose,” Jeyn mused.

  He nodded. “That’s a nice, common sense interpretation.”

  “But not Dad’s interpretation, I bet.” Chasa shook his head. “I wish he didn’t always have to look for the larger pattern behind every single thing that happens.”

  Jeyn cut across Chasa’s complaint. “What did Aage say?”

  “That our problems with Abstainer attacks may be part of a larger pattern.”

  Chasa groaned.

  Ivey ignored him, and continued, “Several things could be happening here to explain the rising number of incidents. One: more Sitrinians than usual may be forsaking their homes and families and becoming Abstainers.”

  “They’re not,” Jeyn protested. “I know. I keep in touch with the Redmothers of all the villages. Our people are prospering. I can’t even remember the last time anyone reported losing a loved one to the Abstainers.”

  “Two: the Abstainers are migrating here from somewhere else. Specifically, from Rhenlan. Which, according to some people at least, has not been prospering these past few years.”

  It was Chasa’s turn to drum his fingers on the railing. “Abstainers don’t just migrate. That suggests forethought, planning—and Abstainers don’t plan. They just act.”

  “And react,” Jeyn said. “They couldn’t plan, as in thinking things through and coming to a decision that Sitrine would be a good place to live, but they might leave Rhenlan in reaction to a direct threat. We know King Hion has been adding more and more people to his guard.”

  “More guard patrols should mean more Abstainers killed,” Chasa replied “Then we’d have fewer of them on our border, not more.”

  “Three,” Ivey said. “They’re not simply Abstainers. According to Aage, they might be sent by the Others.”

  Jeyn’s eyes widened. “They’re monsters? Like phantom cats, but not in animal form?”

  “Impossible,” Chasa snapped.

  “Aage knows about monsters,” Jeyn insisted.

  “He knows about bending power,” her brother corrected her, “in places none of us can go. I know about monsters, the physical kind that Shapers kill with magic swords and spears. That we can only kill with magic-enhanced weapons. Abstainers don’t have anything to do with the Others. If they did, Felistinon’s arrows wouldn’t have helped against the band that attacked him and Dad and Feather.”

  “That’s more or less what your father told Aage,” Ivey said.

  Jeyn set her jaw stubbornly. “Aage wouldn’t suggest it if it wasn’t possible.”

  “There’s possible, and there’s practical,” Chasa said. “Dreamers are not practical. They don’t have the same concerns as the rest of us. They don’t even see facts that are obvious to the rest of us.”

  Ivey looked from one tense twin to the other. He hated to see them fighting. “Of course Dreamers share our concerns.”

  The two blond heads turned toward him.

  “We’re all Children of the Rock,” Ivey contin
ued. “We need each other. We need Aage’s vision, his wisdom. And he needs us—specifically, you two.” When they didn’t respond at once Ivey waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “To do certain things with two certain Keepers.”

  It was the right thing to say. Jeyn made a very sour face and Chasa mirrored it.

  “Breeding stock,” Jeyn complained.

  “That’s us,” Chasa agreed. “I don’t mind, not really.”

  “I do.”

  “Feather doesn’t like me.”

  “I wish that was my problem.”

  “Ah. The fight was with Daav.”

  She blushed, as much with anger as with embarrassment. “The fight is always with Daav.” She swung her legs over the rail and got up to pace across the terrace. “I do not see what Father likes about that man!”

  When Chasa didn’t continue the conversation with his twin, Ivey said, “I thought he was chosen by Savyea.”

  “Father approved it. Father can spend hours with him, walking around buildings and discussing stonework. I have no interest in stonework! I’m the one who would have to live with him, not Father!” She strode back toward Ivey and Chasa, hands gesturing widely. “He’s got bricks for brains, I’m sure of it. He’s not interested in a single thing I’m interested in. He doesn’t like horses, he doesn’t like music, he’s nervous around Aage, he falls asleep during Redmother stories. When I try to talk about running the country, he just stares at me!”

  “So do I,” Chasa said.

  “Maybe he’s overwhelmed,” Ivey suggested.

  “Nonsense. He’s just an idiot,” she snapped. “What sort of Dreamers would a man like that father? Magic builders. Just what we need. A child who can make palaces appear out of thin air? Then where would all the carpenters and stonemasons and thatchers be, hmm?”

  Ivey caught one waving hand. “Jeyn. Calm down.”

  “Easy for you to say. Nobody’s asking you to marry someone you don’t like.” She looked up into his face with a sudden, conspiratorial gleam in her. “You know what? No one’s going to make me do that, either.”

  “Make you ask me to marry someone I don’t like?” he asked, stalling for time.

  “I don’t think I want to hear this.” Chasa gave a decisive nod. “In fact, I am not going to hear this.” Before Ivey could protest, the prince disappeared into the house.

  Jeyn reclaimed his attention. “You know exactly what I meant!”

  “You’re not marrying Daav.”

  “Got it in one.”

  “Does the king know this?”

  “Not yet. But Daav does. I think that he’s the most important person to know it, don’t you? It is between us, after all. It’s not as if I won’t marry a Keeper. It’s just got to be the right Keeper.”

  “Got anyone in mind?” He said it without thinking, then felt a hot flush spread up his neck. He dropped her hand and stepped quickly back. “No. That’s not a fair question. I apologize.”

  She smiled at him. The smile was pleasant, the tilt of her head decidedly speculative. “I was hoping for a bit of that overt flattery you mentioned earlier.”

  “Maybe later.” He looked over his shoulder, craning his neck to glance at the westering sun. “Actually, I really have to practice. I’m supposed to play for dinner tonight.”

  “Fine. I’ll see you then.” Still smiling, she picked up her book and moved toward the door into the house. “Thank you for listening to my problems.”

  “You’re welcome, Your Highness.” She went into the house, and Ivey sat down heavily on the stone railing.

  She likes me. I think I’m in trouble. He picked up his guitar once more, and absently fingered a few chords. A little flirting was nothing to worry about. Neither he nor Jeyn had been serious. She was just bored with Daav. The builder was a good man, but deathly dull. Ivey wondered when Jeyn would gather the courage to tell her father that she could not accept Daav as her husband—and who she would find to replace him. Daav couldn’t be the only Sitrinian Keeper worthy of marrying the princess. To win Jeyn, however, he would also have to be a man with wide interests and good taste.

  Whoever he is, I wish him luck with the king.

  Chapter 26

  Vray sat back on her heels and twisted her stiff back. Around her, hundreds of tiny plants poked through the brown soil of the garden in orderly rows. Vray removed her woven hat and fanned herself with it. With midsummer only two ninedays away, the morning sun was already hot.

  Pepper, working at the other end of the row, stood up. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing’s the matter,” Vray returned. “I’m just resting.”

  “Then you’ll never finish.”

  “Look at this,” Vray said, pointing down. The summons was enough to distract Pepper, at least for the moment. She hopped nimbly through the garden to Vray’s side. “What do you suppose that’s doing here?”

  Pepper peered obligingly at the little plant. “That’s a radish,” she announced with great authority.

  “I know it’s a radish.” Vray supposed she would never live down her initial inability to tell one tiny, two-leaved seedling from another. “These are supposed to be carrots.”

  “Sometimes a few seeds get mixed up. Let’s move it where it belongs.” The girl dug around the seedling with her fingers and carefully uprooted it, then confided, “Mama would probably just throw it away, but I love radishes.”

  She straightened and looked beyond Vray, eyes widening. “Daddy!”

  Vray turned as Pepper dashed past her, abandoning the now unimportant seedling. The big bay mare was hauling the wagon up the hill, Jordy at her head. The carter looked up at Pepper’s squeal, smiled, and said something to her as she drew near. He waved to Vray.

  Vray did not leave the safe, familiar haven of the garden. From there she watched Jordy maneuver the horse and wagon into the stable, listened to Pepper’s excited commentary, and saw Matti come careening out of the house, dragging her mother along by the hand. Vray resumed her weeding.

  “Where are you? Iris!”

  Pepper beckoned to her from the stable doorway. Vray got up and crossed the yard, self-consciously rubbing the dirt off her hands.

  “Hello, lassie,” Jordy said as soon as she entered the stable. “I brought something for the three of you. Pepper will show you which crate.”

  Vray obediently went to the back of the wagon, where Pepper and Matti crouched over one of the boxes. They watched eagerly as Vray pried up the lid. “Just the top package, mind,” the carter added.

  “What is it?” Matti demanded.

  Pepper, more experienced, was already unwrapping the outer layer of brown paper. Inside nestled dozens of small, squarish objects, each within its own twist of the sort of smooth white paper Vray hadn’t seen since her last visit to the markets of Edian.

  “Taffy!” Pepper shouted. “Daddy, thank you!”

  “Pecan taffy.” Jordy, who had begun to rub down the horse, put aside his cloth and came over to the wagon. “I expect you to make it last.”

  “Can we have some now?” Matti asked.

  “One piece.”

  Pepper and Matti didn’t waste any time. Their small hands dove at once into the rustling pile. Vray picked up a piece of the candy and slowly unwrapped it. Chunks of pecan jutted from the surface of the otherwise smooth brown candy.

  “I wasn’t sure if you had a sweet tooth.”

  She glanced quickly at the carter. Was the man apologizing? Her unreliable emotions threatened tears, but she mastered the feeling at once.

  “It’s a lovely treat,” she assured him.

  Matti jumped down to the ground. Pepper asked, “Where’s Tob?”

  “We had a small delivery for Herri. He’ll be home for supper.”

  Jordy waited while Cyril escorted the happily chattering Pepper and Matti from the stable to take their treasure to the house. Then he pulled out a small chest, lifted the lid, and dug past the layers of protective wrapping until he uncovered folds of rust-
brown wool. He straightened and handed the bundle to Vray.

  It was heavy, and far too hot draped across her arm. She held it away from her. “A cloak.”

  “Aye. The weave is plain, but it wears well. I thought you might decorate it to suit yourself, seeing as you have quite a few ninedays yet before the weather cools.”

  “To suit myself,” she repeated.

  “It’s for you. A winter cloak.” Her continued puzzlement seemed to make him uneasy. “Unless you don’t like the color.”

  “I do! It’s beautiful!” she said hastily. She thought that in a moment she was going to cry. “It’s just that… Do you return from all your trips with so many gifts for—for your children?”

  “I’m only bringing things you need, my girl.”

  She clutched the cloak in both hands. The wool smelled faintly of sweet herbs. The man’s generosity overwhelmed her—how could she possibly express her gratitude?

  “I have to finish the weeding,” she said, and fled to the solitude of the garden.

  * * *

  “I don’t want to be here, you know. What’s this one? I’ll have more, please.”

  Chasa overheard the girl’s precisely enunciated words as he walked past the dining room several hours after the end of dinner. Feather was seated by herself at the big table. Dektrieb placed a glass of wine beside her hand, and started to move away.

  “Just leave the bottle,” Feather ordered after taking a long drink. “Save you having to run back in here every few minutes.”

  She held up the glass to the light. “I like this one.”

  Chasa watched silently from the doorway, not sure whether he was amused or annoyed. Dektrieb did not look happy, but did as he was told. The servant saw him as he turned away from Feather, and shook his head as he went out. It was up to Chasa to see what he could do. He took a deep breath and entered. Several glasses of different shapes and sizes cluttered the table in front of the girl. Two were empty, and four more held various amounts of wine in shades of red, purple, gold, and sparkling clear. Each vintage looked to have been tasted. Probably more than once, if the unfocused look on Feather’s face meant anything.