Loveweaver
Page 28
"Say no more, lass. I shall depart. Far be it from an old priest to meddle in the lives of you two, especially today, the first in your new home. I will meet him on the road and wish him merry!" After a wink and one last gulp from his cup, he trotted off.
"You will come to supper day after next!" Llyrica called after him before she rushed into the house.
Yet a new bride, she wondered at this breathless love that seemed to carry her up the stairs to the loft. This place was not a bedchamber, but a room filled with soft light, and yarns of all colors and weight. Tablet looms stretched along the walls, warped with cunning hues that sang of harmony and conflict, boldness and subtlety. Each bundle and skein of soft wool waited for its chance to become a woven song. This room was the Loveweaver's room where she would watch for Slayde come each eventide.
Violet, black, sea green and gray, the thick blanket Llyrica had woven for him was spread over a pad filled with clean rushes. Both a homecoming gift and tonight's bed, the blanket held her songspell, an ancient blessing that Mother had sung.
A scan of the room assured Llyrica that all was ready, and she moved to the window. Now in clear view, Slayde looked up and saw her, a great smile spreading across his face.
He waved and broke into a run. Within moments she would fall with him, enclosed in his arms, upon the softest place in the house.
"Dearheart, come see how beautiful this is." Llyrica, her gold hair in a loose braid down her back, sat on the window bench, awed by something in her view.
The room still held the hazy light of dusk, allowed Slayde to appreciate Llyrica's lovely curves through her sheer cemes. " 'Tis nothing compared to what I see from here. Entreat me not to move." He yet lie on his back on the makeshift pallet in the weaver's loft, hands clasped behind his head. This kind of bliss, the warm flush that remained after making love with Llyrica was a sensation and pleasure he had never known.
"You must, lest you miss it." She smiled and reached out her hand to him.
A sweet reluctance bade him obey. The chill air that came through the open window insisted he bring the new blanket with him from the pallet. Sitting beside Llyrica, he swept it in an arc behind them. It unfurled, floated, and then came to rest on their shoulders, a cloak for two.
There it was again, that strange rippling sensation along his skin. He hadn't asked what words Llyrica had sung into the soft, colorful weaving, and he was yet to surrender fully to the belief in song spells. But, what else would account for the euphoric certainty of love when he and Llyrica shared the blanket, or the knowing that he was forever joined with his missing half?
She kissed him as he settled in beside her, then pressed her forehead to his. "I feel it, too," she whispered.
They huddled closer as a current of night breeze swirled in, drew their attention out to the dark sky. Above the black velvet horizon hung the narrowest sliver of a moon. A single star hovered in its arc.
As if on the wind, a melody resounded, low but distinct. The tune was at once heartbreaking and uplifting, delving into the unresolved chambers of the soul.
Llyrica was singing. Slayde felt the reverberation of her voice deep in his chest, as he had the first time he heard her speak. She now wove words among the haunting notes:
Each star is an answered prayer to ease the fear of night,
To soothe the lonely heart, a grief, a hunger or lost fight.
Find a balm in that vast heaven among the pins of light
To heal the void with love, compassion, and with tender might.
Each star shows faith rewarded and redemption within sight.
And even the journey's blackest path is marked clear and bright
So take my hand, my love, and be brave and hold on tight.
For now we plot our course and into the world take flight.