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Journey of Wisdom

Page 22

by Shawna Thomas


  Ewen had spoken often of Teann, giving it a deeper definition. She understood now what Zeynel had meant when he’d said he would never truly understand the entirety of Teann. She’d only had a glimpse of the vastness of force powering the stones and it defied her comprehension. Ilythra mulled the thought. Not powering, but speaking through. In honorable hands, the stones held great power for good. In corrupt hands, like Bredych’s, they could cause horrific destruction. Hadn’t she had a taste of that in Greton?

  The door’s soft click snapped Ilythra from her reverie. She didn’t turn. “I’m out here, Aimena.”

  “It’s Arien.” Returning to the room, Ilythra saw Arien standing just inside the door, a green tunic highlighting his golden-brown eyes. “I knocked—perhaps you didn’t hear me?”

  “No.” She hesitated. The healer had declared she’d recovered from her injuries and no longer needed his care. Why was he here? “I was on the balcony.”

  “Ewen has extended an invitation for you to join us this evening. There’ll be a performance in the great hall.”

  “Yes. Aimena mentioned it. Thank you.”

  “Ewen would see you at the library now. Do I need to lead you?”

  Ilythra balanced the thought of the winding corridors with her reluctance to rely on the aloof Siobani. She’d visited Ewen twice now but still doubted her ability to navigate alone.

  She nodded.

  “Are you ready?”

  Ilythra tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and followed him down the hallway. They walked in silence. He moved with easy grace, but with stillness, as though his surroundings moved past him instead of he through them.

  Arien paused before the familiar oak door. “I’ll leave you now. I hope to see you in the great hall.” He bowed then disappeared down the curved corridor. She followed his progression. He’d almost sounded as if he meant it.

  Ilythra raised her hand to knock, when the door opened. She stepped inside.

  Ewen smiled. “Ilythra, I’m glad you could join me.”

  “I need to learn everything I can.”

  “And you are a quick study, but be warned, there is always more to learn.”

  Ilythra nodded. At this point, even with an increased life span, she felt as if she’d never learn enough. She could almost hear Zeynel reminding her that she was given one day at a time, just like everyone else. The memory soothed her turbulent thoughts.

  As before, a pot of tea sat on the small table before the fire. When Ewen poured the sweet-smelling brew into the cups, his countenance grew somber. “Arien has told of the performance in the great hall?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then please join us. Not all our stories are laced with mourning. I’d have you see the gaiety as well.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Good.” Ewen clapped his hands. “The members of the council are here. Tomorrow, we will meet. Are you ready?”

  Years before she would have answered with a resounding yes. Now she wasn’t so sure. “I don’t have the luxury of being ready.”

  * * *

  Arien paced the confines of his room. He was looking forward to the performance tonight, yet his heart was troubled. Conflicting emotions battled in his head but an image prevailed: Ilythra standing on her balcony, wind caressing her face, tangling her hair. In her gaze, he saw sorrow such as he’d only seen in Elder Born eyes.

  The urge to comfort her had shocked him. She was human. Yet for a moment, he’d wanted to brush the hair from eyes so like the storm she watched. He paced faster. When he’d first seen her fighting the Rugians, for a moment he’d thought she was of the elder race. He had to admit to a grudging admiration. An admiration that had grown when he’d seen how damaged she was, how much pain she must have endured and still fought on. It had taken everything in him to remain aloof.

  He almost smiled. The keeper didn’t back down from a fight, whether physical or verbal. In another life he would have wanted to get to know her. But he didn’t have that luxury now. Bearer or not, she was still human. She was still an untempered flame—the kind that when unguarded could run rampant and destroy everything in its path.

  His heart weighed in his breast. “Not kindred, a human.”

  As though speaking aloud gave truth more weight, anger burned away all other emotion. The humans had never been kind to the Siobani and now they possessed two of the ancient stones. Arien straightened his tunic and strode into the hall. He was chief healer of the Dawn Children and of the White Feather. He would be polite, but no more.

  * * *

  Music drifted down the corridor, announcing they approached the great hall. As they rounded a corner, Ilythra touched her dress, another gift from Aimena. It was a simple design; the pale purple material scooped at the neck and skimmed her body until it fell softly around her ankles. The loose sleeves stopped just past her elbows, but Aimena had insisted she wear a bracelet on her bare wrist.

  Her heart beat in rapid rhythm against her chest. Why was she nervous? She was only about to meet most of the Siobani who lived close by. No problem. She glanced at the Siobani woman. Aimena had not stopped talking about the gathering all day.

  Light spilled into the corridor, detailing the floor’s mosaics. Ilythra blinked as they entered a bright room. Couches and low tables draped with luxurious fabrics lined the walls. Siobani of all ages stood talking to one another. Dressed in rich hues, they appeared like so many gems adorning the hall. A fire blazed in a hearth large enough to stand upright, its flames cavorting across a polished wood floor to dance on rich stone walls. Tables laden with food and wine stood at one end of the room.

  Conversation skipped a beat as Ilythra and Aimena entered. “They’re curious about you,” Aimena whispered.

  Ilythra searched for the source of music. Several Siobani gathered in a corner played reed and string instruments.

  Ewen strode forward, his arms extended. He wore a finely embroidered tunic with long, loose sleeves in a deep, rich red over dark leggings. A wide golden belt held what looked like a ceremonial knife. “Ilythra, I’m pleased you came. Aimena, a joy as always.”

  Walking by Ilythra’s side, he directed her to a group. Ilythra recognized two as the Siobani who had been with Ewen on the day they’d met. She’d forgotten their names but remembered they were members of the council. The others had to be the rest of the high council, a group of elder Dawn Children that advised the Riege. She swallowed past a suddenly dry throat.

  “Galen, Manu, you remember Ilythra.”

  “Yes, I do.” Galen’s soft drawl smiled more than any expression could. Eyes so pale brown they seemed golden observed her with interest. “Siobani dress becomes you.”

  “Thank you.” Ilythra inclined her head.

  “Tsk, don’t let the old charmer get away with that or he’ll never cease,” Manu warned. The silver-haired Siobani’s blue eyes smiled.

  “A lady never refuses a compliment,” Ilythra said.

  “Don’t monopolize Ilythra’s attention. There are many here who wish to meet her.”

  She turned to the new voice. A tall, dark Siobani gazed at her, his demeanor as serious as those of the other two had been jovial.

  “This is Sheenan. He’s also a member of the high council. He arrived this morning.” Ewen gestured toward the man.

  Ilythra inclined head. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sheenan.”

  “As it is to meet you. It’s been many years since I’ve spoken to a human. And I cannot tell you how glad I am to hear Ilydearta once again.”

  Ewen stepped forward. “The dancing will begin soon. Perhaps we should find seats, and you can speak after the performance?”

  Ilythra followed Ewen to a plush couch. Aimena settled by her side. Galen brought them each a cup of pale, rose-colored liquid, a smile never leaving his face.
>
  “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve an unfinished argument with Galen. We must bring it to a conclusion or he’ll assume he’s won.” Ewen bowed, joined arms with Galen and walked to the back of the room.

  Ilythra sampled the thickened refreshment. Though not sweet, its fruit flavors exploded in her mouth. She leaned toward Aimena. “It’s wonderful.”

  “It’s Sriobahd, a liquor of various fruit juices. I knew you would like it,” Aimena said, then sipped her own drink.

  Feet whispered against the gleaming floor as the room hushed. Siobani women glided in, their colorful dresses rustling in the silence. Joining arms, they froze in place. At one accord, music began and the dancers’ feet fell into rhythm. Skirts fluttered like so many butterfly wings as the women swayed across the floor, forming complex patterns of intertwining arms.

  Too soon, the music and dancing ceased on the same beat. Only the dresses remained in motion. The audience applauded then rose to join the women on the floor. Ilythra shifted on the couch. She glanced to Aimena. “Are you going to dance?”

  “No. Tonight I’ll watch. Do you desire something to eat? More Sriobahd?” Aimena’s shoes moved, restless against the floor.

  Ilythra laughed. “I’m not an invalid, or much of one anyway. Although I’m not sure my leg is up for dancing. I do not need a babysitter. Go dance. I’ll enjoy watching.”

  “Are you certain?” Aimena’s gaze looked hopeful.

  “Yes.” Ilythra gave her a playful push toward the Siobani spinning across the floor and leaned against the cushions.

  Eyes sparkling, Aimena was soon lost in the riot of color and moving bodies. The Siobani surprised her. For such a serious and solemn race, they danced with zest and vigor.

  “Are you enjoying the display?” Ewen stood beside the couch.

  “I am.”

  “May I?”

  Ilythra indicated the seat next to her. “Do you often have parties?”

  “More so in the winter than in the warm months. We arrange riddling and music contests as well. In summer, warriors compete in the open field. Now they vie for their chosen lady’s attention.” Ewen settled against the cushions, his focus on the dancing.

  “Like men in all lands.”

  “Yes, and throughout the ages.” Ewen laughed.

  “Will you dance?” she asked.

  “Is that an invitation?” His green eyes sparkled.

  Ilythra laughed. “I wish it were.” She was surprised again by the Siobani humor.

  “Yes. I’ll dance. However, I’m old.” He indicated the seated guests. “It’s customary to let the young lead. Besides, we tire sooner.”

  Arien separated from the group. His flushed face and radiant eyes indicated he’d been dancing. Ilythra held back a gasp. When he wasn’t being stern, Arien was beautiful.

  “Father, Ilythra.” He dipped his head.

  I didn’t see you enter,” Ewen said. “I won’t ask if you are enjoying yourself.”

  “I arrived just before the dancers. I didn’t want to interrupt the performance.”

  Ewen laughed. “Never forget, Arien, once I was young. No explanation needed. Go have fun.”

  Arien nodded to Ilythra and melted back into the crowd. Ilythra followed his progress until he disappeared from her view. Ewen and several of the council members joined the dance when the music slowed. Many Siobani greeted her in Anatarian. From some she sensed curiosity and from others, wariness, but all were friendly. She couldn’t help but enjoy the air of unity in the place.

  Later in the evening, a musician began playing a reed instrument; the others fell silent. Aimena joined Ilythra on the couch. One by one, couples left the dance floor as though by common consent. The music changed in rhythm. Three Siobani males moved to stand in front of the musicians.

  Rich, clear voices filled the hall. Ilythra concentrated on the sound and cadence of their words, though she couldn’t understand them.

  “Would you like me to translate for you?” Aimena whispered in Ilythra’s ear.

  “Please.”

  Aimena seemed to concentrate for a moment, then began.

  “Noiseless tread

  Over vale and dell

  Ageless falter

  Wind is still

  The soil cries out,

  ‘Do you return?’

  Birds of the air

  Their voices mourn

  By moonlight’s witness

  Dawn retreats

  Trees stretch their arms

  In a silent plea,

  ‘Children of the Dawn

  It’s your hearts you leave.’

  Voices no longer

  Raised in song

  To you we cry

  For you we mourn

  By moonlight’s witness

  Dawn retreats

  Tears have nourished

  Grass that fades

  Sun darkens

  The One’s hand stays

  Rocks cry out

  Wind stills

  The Children of the Dawn

  Will not return.

  By moonlight’s witness

  Dawn retreats.”

  Silence echoed in the room for several heartbeats as heads bowed and the vocalists joined the crowd. Ilythra blinked back tears. Sorrow deepened in her breast. She closed her eyes. The mood grew sedate, thoughtful. She glanced to the large windows covering one wall, surprised to see dawn’s blush touch the eastern sky.

  “What was the song?” she whispered.

  Aimena’s voice was soft. “It’s a lament of our exile.”

  * * *

  The sun crested the horizon, spreading light in a slow sweep across her room. Sweat dripped down Ilythra’s face, but she remained immobile, sword outstretched in her shaking hand. With a deep breath, she spun, keeping the sword horizontal to her body. Her body was unconditioned, weak not only from the race north but because she had been lax. Never again would she forego her morning exercises.

  She’d asked for and received a pair of leggings and a small tunic. Both now were drenched in sweat. Her sword flashed through the air, dipped and fell while her feet performed movements that were almost a dance. Her body remembered the routine. She didn’t have to think of the next step.

  She froze again. The muscles of her arm burned as she held the sword high. It would take a while before she no longer felt the strain, but she had no doubt the time would come.

  A knock sounded on the door. Ilythra’s gaze flew to the window. The sun was well above the horizon, breathing color into the stone floors. Ilythra held the pose for a few more breaths. “Just a moment.”

  After sheathing the sword, she pushed the small table away from the door back toward the bed. She hadn’t wanted to chance damaging the furniture.

  She opened the door.

  Aimena walked in with a tray, her expression puzzled. “What were you doing?”

  “Exercises.”

  “Oh, yes, I sometimes forget you are a warrior.” She set down the tray. “We have a place for such things.”

  Ilythra shrugged off the unintended sting of Aimena’s words. For a time, she too had forgotten she was a warrior. “This place works too, but thank you.”

  “Do humans prefer to exercise alone?”

  “I practice Shi’ia. Although I spar with others, many of the routines can be done alone.” She contemplated the woman. “Have you never seen a human before?”

  “You’re my first. I was born after the exile.”

  “How old are you?” Ilythra poured some water into a bowl and wiped her face and hands. The Siobani also had a steaming room for bathing. She would make use of that after she ate. Her stomach rumbled at the thought. Today the council would meet and she needed to b
e ready.

  “We don’t count time as you.” Aimena breathed deeply. “I have seen eighty-two summers.”

  Ilythra stared at the young-looking woman. She hadn’t been far off when she’d compared her to the Benai wise woman.

  “Is that old in human terms?”

  “Yes. A lifetime.”

  Aimena paled. “You are short-lived.”

  Ilythra cleared her throat and inspected the tray Aimena had set on the table. An assortment of fruit and pastries made her mouth water. “And what do you do when you’re not pampering me?”

  “What do I do? That’s an odd question. I’ve been gifted as a companion. Now, I’m your companion, as my brother, Cavin, is Arien’s. Our family serves the White Feather.”

  “I met your brother last night at the gathering. He is very nice. You’re servants?”

  “I don’t think the word translates correctly.” Aimena was silent for a while then shrugged. “A companion is a revered position. If Arien had a sister or Ciera were alive, then I would serve them. But it’s not so.”

  “Ciera?”

  “Arien’s mother and Ewen’s wife. She died long ago, before the exile. I never met her.”

  Ilythra wondered if his wife’s death was a factor in the decision to abandon the human world. Maybe it was why Arien was so aloof too. She didn’t know how old Arien was, but he couldn’t have been very old when his mother had died. She didn’t want to feel sympathy for the healer but she’d lost her mother too. They had more in common that she wanted to admit. “When I met Cavin, I didn’t know he was your brother. You do resemble each other a bit.”

  “Yes. We have been told that. He is quite a bit older than me.”

  “Is he a healer like Arien?”

  “No. The House of the White Feather is gifted in healing. Arien’s mother was chief of our healers. Since she died, Arien has taken that title.”

 

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