Moons' Dreaming (Children of the Rock)

by Krause, Marguerite

  “What’s going on?” his father demanded irritably. “Do you know what time it is?”

  Tob started to say something, but it was Iris’s voice that answered from the pile of girls. “I’m sorry. I had a nightmare.”

  Jordy grunted. “You all right now, lass?”

  “Yes.”

  She didn’t sound all right. Pepper and Matti were still snuffling. “I’ll take care of it, Dad,” Tob promised. “Go back to bed.”

  Jordy grunted again. “Good lad. Good night.” His head disappeared once more.

  Tob came forward, plucking first one sister, then the other out of Iris’s bed. He hugged them and got them settled under their own covers without too much trouble. Both of them were sleepy, and it was easy enough to soothe them.

  When he finished he turned back and found Iris sitting in the center of her bed, arms wrapped around her drawn-up knees. He came and sat down beside her.

  “You all right?” he whispered.

  She scrubbed at her face. Tob wondered if she’d been crying, too. “I’m sorry,” she repeated.

  He would rather she answered his question. “You afraid of storms?” He hoped not. He didn’t want to have to share the loft with a girl who screamed every time it rained. He wouldn’t get much sleep that way.

  “No. Yes.”

  “Which is it?”

  “Yes.” She was silent for a while, then said, “My memory’s too good.”

  “You’re a Redmother,” he reminded her. “Do you remember your nightmares?”

  “No. I make nightmares out of memories.”

  “You should try to dream good memories, then.”

  “Do you believe in wind demons?”

  “Of course. Don’t you?”

  “I used to be afraid of wind demons. Silly. All a wind demon can do is kill you.”

  “That’s scary.”

  “No.”

  He shook his head. “You’re a strange girl, Iris.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Stop being sorry,” he said irritably. Getting up, he did his best to sound like his father. “You go to sleep, now.”

  She nodded and stretched out on her side. He started to smile, elated at his the sudden sense of authority, but a yawn interrupted his new feeling of power.

  “Good night, Iris.”

  She turned over. “Good night, Tobble.”

  She called him Tobble. He went back to his bed.

  As if she really is my sister. I think I like that.

  * * *

  Feather stumbled into the dining room just as Dektrieb collected the last of the dirty dishes. Her head hurt. She didn’t quite remember why, but knew it had something to do with the dining room.

  “Why aren’t I in bed?” Feather asked.

  The man looked up from the dishes. “Good morning, ma’am. No, you’re not late.”

  Which wasn’t what she’d asked. He was being circumspect. She hated it when people were circumspect. Feather approached the mostly empty breakfast table with careful steps, mouth pursed with the effort of swallowing a tart rejoinder.

  “I was drinking.” She blinked her nearly swollen-shut eyes. “Don’t ever let me do that again.”

  “I’ll bring your orange juice with a restorative right away,” he said. “What else would you like? Cook saved some eggs for you.”

  Her stomach lurched. “No.”

  Feather sat down in front of the sole remaining place setting as Dektrieb nodded agreeably and hurried off to the kitchen. When he was gone, she leaned her head on her hand.

  “I don’t like breakfast anyway,” she told the empty verandah. A stray breeze fluttered the corner of the pale green tablecloth. “I came for the first council meeting of the day. Not for the food. Me and a plate of eggs. I should forget the whole thing and to back to bed.”

  Her stomach rumbled.

  “How dare you,” she muttered. Her stomach thought it belonged to a princess getting an early start on her day. Her body got out of bed despite how it felt. She was getting used to the routine of this place. The king was very well organized, and his good habits seemed to rub off on everyone else.

  Thoughts of Sene focused her attention, and she took another look around the empty dining room. Empty? Sene changed other people’s habits, but he didn’t change his own. He lingered over meals, waited for everyone in the household to put in an appearance at the table so he could give them their orders for the day. So, something had happened. Otherwise he would still be at the table. Feather thought she would be worried if her head felt better. Or be furious at being left out. Not that being worried should necessarily stop her from being furious. Except Sene would say that being furious all the time clouds one’s judgment.

  A clatter of hoof beats distracted her. She groaned but turned in her chair. The king rode up from the direction of the road, his white stallion’s flanks glistening with sweat. A stable boy came running around the side of the house. Sene gave him the reins, then climbed directly from the saddle over the railing of the terrace. He was bare-headed, and his clothing was dusty. He stamped dirt off his boots before coming to the table.

  “Feather. Good,” he greeted her. “Have you been waiting long?”

  She hid her misery and answered, “Only a few minutes.”

  “I asked Jeyn to wait for you, but now I’m told she was called away as well. Quite a morning, eh?”

  “Apparently so.”

  Sene took a seat just as Dektrieb appeared with a glass for Feather. The servant accepted his master’s appearance without surprise. “May I bring you something, Sire?”

  “Another melon, Dektrieb. And a wash basin.”

  “Yes, Sire.”

  Dektrieb left. Feather watched Sene expectantly over the rim of her glass as she gulped down the restorative. He said, “A sea monster. We received the report just before dawn. And Chasa’s nowhere to be found.”

  Feather stopped feeling sorry for herself. The only thing she knew about hunting sea monsters was that an expedition needed to be launched as rapidly as possible.

  Sene glanced in the direction of the harbor, out of sight beyond the headland to the west. “The boy needs to be at sea.” He frowned at the door leading inside. “I wonder where Jeyn went?”

  Feather thought uneasily about why she’d gotten drunk. She asked, “Was this sea monster reported to be especially large?”

  “They’re all large to a man in a fishing boat. Why?”

  “You don’t fight sea monsters, do you?”

  The king leaned toward her. His words were half solemn confession, half boyish mischief. “Actually, I get sea sick. I like my monsters land-bound.” He gave her a conspiratorial wink just as the door opened and Dektrieb, arms full, backed through.

  In the presence of the servant Feather forced herself to stop staring at Sene. He had no right to be so charming. Perhaps he couldn’t help it. Perhaps he was born that way. Then why hadn’t he passed the trait on to his son? Stop it, Feather told herself desperately. Chasa is a nice boy.

  Who wants to marry a boy?

  Sene washed up, and Dektrieb departed, towel draped over one arm.

  The king said, “It might be the two-mile bridge. I hope not. We’ll need that road at harvest.”

  Out of the corner of her eye Feather watched his hands as he deftly quartered the green-skinned melon with a silver knife. Strong hands.

  “Bridge?” she repeated, looking up. To her relief, her head no longer ached.

  “A serious enough problem to call Jeyn away at this hour. If that’s the problem. I’m only speculating. Have you seen Ivey?”

  The door swung against the wall with a solid thunk, the noise a painful distraction. Feather uncovered her ears as Jeyn hurried up to the table.

  “We’ve more than a sea monster to worry about,” the princess announced.

  “Not the bridge,” Sene commented to Feather. To his daughter he said, “Tell me.”

  “Phantom cats. A pair.”

  The s
uccinct words left Feather voiceless with dread. Sene asked, “Where?”

  “Forty miles east of Bren. They were seen following a herd of gazelle westward, but—”

  “But,” Sene agreed. He used a spoon to scoop a juicy crescent of pulp from the melon, then raised it to his lips. “Where’s Chasa?”

  Jeyn said, “I’ll worry about Chasa and his monster. You’ll need help with the phantom cats.”

  “I’ll take Ivey.”

  Jeyn sat down at the table. Her sardonic expression made her look suddenly very like her father. “He’ll be thrilled.”

  “These were sweeter last year,” Sene said. He swallowed one mouthful of melon and dug out a second.

  “That stretch of cool weather,” Jeyn reminded him. “Why Ivey?”

  Sene’s smile showed his dimples, but his eyes caught and held his daughter’s with undisguised speculation. “He’s available.”

  “I’ve noticed that.”

  “I noticed you noticing at dinner last night.”

  Feather’s pulse hammered in her throat. “You can’t kill phantom cats.”

  “Why not?” Sene’s eyebrows rose. “I have done it before.”

  “But you’re the king.”

  “Exactly.”

  Feather knew she sounded a fool. She couldn’t help herself. “Raisal needs you.”

  “Raisal has Jeyn. And you.” He quickly cleaned the last of the melon from its rind and got to his feet. “Who made the sighting?” he asked Jeyn.

  “Felistinon’s troop. They were going to try to turn the gazelle herd south.”

  “At this time of year? That won’t be easy.” He paused in the doorway. “Send someone after Ivey. Have him meet me at the stable.”

  “You’ll watch out for him?” Jeyn seemed more annoyed than concerned. “He’s not much of a horseman.”

  “He’ll be fine,” Sene promised cheerily as he left.

  As the sound of his firm tread retreated, Feather turned angrily on the princess. “Why didn’t you send Chasa after the phantom cats?”

  “There’s the sea monster, don’t forget.” Jeyn sounded distracted.

  The princess picked a bell up off the table and rang it, then got up and paced. When Dektrieb appeared, she met him at the door and gave him swift, low-voiced orders. After he was gone she turned and met Feather’s eyes.

  “Chasa’s on his way to the border. Dad better not find out about this.”

  “What?” Feather shook her dully aching head. “Why?”

  “He left me a message about somebody needing to do something useful for once. I was going to send Aage after him anyway. Those two need to talk.” As if in response to her words, a sweet-smelling puff of smoke materialized by the terrace. “Aage! There you are!”

  Feather coughed. In all her years of living with Jenil she’d never gotten used to the magical fog the Dreamers brought with them when they traveled through the web of power.

  “Why can’t you use the door?” she snapped.

  Aage ignored her. He stepped up to the princess and waved a square of parchment under her nose. “He wrote this?”

  “That’s what I said in my note.”

  “He can’t just ride up to a band of Abstainers and start a conversation!”

  “I hope he’s got something more subtle in mind.”

  Chasa was not subtle. Feather kept her opinion to herself. Brave, impetuous, sincere, but not subtle. Who did he think he was going to impress with a stunt like this?

  Oh.

  “I have to stop him,” Aage said.

  “You most certainly do,” Jeyn agreed. “Find him and get him home. Dad’ll be furious if he gets himself killed.”

  Aage nodded. “I’ll find him. The sea monster?”

  Jeyn’s fingers drummed on the stone railing. “I’ll take care of it. It’s been a couple of years, but I haven’t forgotten my training. Chasa’s crew does most of the work anyway. Don’t worry.”

  “I’ll worry.” Aage brushed his lips across the princess’s forehead. “Be careful, love.” He puffed off, leaving the scent of apple blossoms behind.

  Feather stood. “You’re going to kill a monster?”

  “I haven’t got much choice. That leaves you in charge of the kingdom,” she added, and walked back into the house before Feather could protest.

  Feather sat back down. She wasn’t sure whether she should be more annoyed at Shapers or Dreamers or monsters. She settled on being furious with all of them.

  Chapter 28

  “You couldn’t listen, could you?” Aage muttered under his breath.

  Below his vantage point, the largest band of Abstainers he had ever seen occupied the top and sides of a low rise, its grass cropped short or flattened by several days of intensive grazing. A stream, the border between Sitrine and Rhenlan, meandered along the foot of the hill. This far into the summer, it didn’t provide much of a barrier between the two kingdoms. In fact, its shallow water was barely sufficient to supply the band and its horses.

  Once, the hill had been the center of a Rhenlan village. The stump of a broad chimney marked the site of a smithy or pottery. Scattered timbers and a few tumbled piles of stone were all that remained of the rest of the buildings, save one. Aage remembered the half-fallen ruin as a Brownmother house, renowned for the skill of the healers trained within its walls. Now, after years of vacancy, it gave succor once more—to Chasa.

  In defiance of every argument Aage could muster, not to mention plain common sense, the prince had gone through with his plan to locate one of the bands of Abstainers that roamed the borderlands. Undeterred by the abnormal orderliness of the band’s camp, he had crept into the village under cover of darkness and taken possession of the upper story of the house. When dawn broke, he called to the nearest Abstainer and requested a conference with their leader.

  They had tried to kill him, of course. Abstainers did that. Chasa, who was nine times a fool but not stupid, had chosen his refuge for its defensibility and didn’t even have to kill any of his attackers in order to protect himself. Late in the morning, his determination was rewarded. The Abstainer leader stood below his perch and spoke with him. Though it had been years since Aage had last seen him, the man’s square jaw and heavy brow, framed by a tangled mass of red hair, was unmistakable: Soen, brother to Queen Gallia of Rhenlan.

  Aage hoped that Chasa was happy to have stumbled on such a choice tidbit of information. Soen, the most powerful Shaper to have gone Abstainer in the last thirty years, was still alive. Furthermore, as the afternoon wore on he demonstrated an unusual ability to maintain control over the mad men and women who lived with him. He never conversed with Chasa for more than a few minutes at a time. As soon as he lost interest, the rest of the band resumed their assault on the prince. Still, the fact that Soen could restrain their impulse to destroy, even if only for short periods, made Aage distinctly uneasy. Sene would have to be told.

  As soon, that is, as Aage could devise a way to extricate Chasa from his fortress.

  * * *

  “It’s very simple,” the king explained patiently. “I haven’t lost an assistant yet.”

  “What if the horse can’t outrun them?”

  “The horse will outrun them. We’re only talking about a few hundred yards. The horse will be as frightened as you are.”

  “I doubt that.” Ivey squirmed unhappily in the saddle. He hadn’t enjoyed the several days they’d spent riding from Raisal. “What if he runs away with me?”

  “Just point him in the right direction. I’ll do the rest.”

  Ivey shut up. There was no arguing with Sene’s easy confidence. Of course he was confident. He’d slain monsters all his life, taught his son the same trade. Chasa had survived the experience. Ivey wanted to feel reassured, but didn’t. The sun was shining in a crystal blue sky, the herd of gazelle browsed peacefully a mile downwind of them, yet Ivey couldn’t enjoy the beautiful day. The phantom cats hidden somewhere in the brush and tall grass wouldn’t leave his thought
s.

  Sene glanced over at him. “Don’t be ashamed of your fear. It’s the proper response. They’re monsters, after all.”

  “I’m more annoyed than ashamed,” Ivey admitted. “After all the stories I’ve told about these beasts, your plan shouldn’t surprise me. I understand that the magic will draw them to any of the Children, no matter how much other game is available.”

  The leather of the saddle creaked beneath him as he shifted once more. He’d never liked saddles. A good riding pad was just as comfortable. But Sene had insisted he would appreciate the stirrups before their hunt was over.

  “A story’s no substitute for personal experience,” Sene said. “You’ll find more meaning in your songs after tonight’s work.”

  “I’ll be grateful later.”

  Sene pointed in the direction of the gazelles. “We’ll wait at the foot of that rise. The cats will hunt again at dusk. Once they’ve made their first kill, move in and attract their attention. The herd shouldn’t drift much before then. You’ll have a good run toward me, upwind and no obstacles.”

  The king nudged his horse with his heels and they started toward the position he’d chosen. Over his shoulder he added kindly, “Believe me, you won’t be so nervous next time.”

  “Next time?” Ivey’s voice, usually an obedient instrument, rose unsteadily.

  Sene’s grin was actually enthusiastic. “I’m sure you’ll hunt often with Chasa. It’s all part of the routine for a member of the ruling family.”

  Surprise almost overcame Ivey’s fear. “What?”

  The king’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you’d noticed my daughter’s intentions. No?”

  Ivey found he was glad of the stirrups as his mind reeled. “What… uh… yes. I mean, we’ve talked. A few times. But I’d never presume to interfere with your choice of who she—”

  “She interfered with that already. Don’t you like her?”

  “Of course I like her! She’s lovely. Smart. Funny.”

  “Likes your singing.”