by Lori Martin
“I hope they don’t come any closer.”
Inside the shelter one of the babies began to wail. In a moment came the second. “Come inside,” Dalleena said. “I want to tell you something.”
She picked up the girl-child, who was greedier and louder than the other. The baby’s head was enfolded in her robe against her breast as she nursed. Pillyn took the other, rocking and soothing him.
“I finished the other pouch,” she said to Dalleena, pointing. It was a small carrier, to cinch over the shoulders and hold the baby in front.
“Thank you,” she answered, her mind on something else. Lilli and Baili sat down with them.
“I have to tell you.”
It was so hard. The girl-child curled a little fist into her skin.
“I can’t think of any way to make it softer, so I’ll just say it straight out. The war is over. Lindahne has lost.”
She watched the meaning of it come up into their faces. Pillyn made a jerking movement; the baby started to cry again. “How do you know?”
She sighed. “Because I am – or at least I have been – a Nialian.”
Lilli, believing her, said, “I don’t believe it.”
“I know. But it is over. The Mendales are occupying us, they’re completely in control. And whatever Lindahne possesses is going west and north to their capital. Out of our hands.”
Baili thought of the other children, waiting for their parents to come home. He wanted to ask what it felt like when Nialia told you something, but he didn’t think she would answer. He went to Pillyn. She put an arm around him, the other tight around the boy-child.
“Dalleena, what’s – do you know if – if anything’s happened to my brother?”
Why be surprised at the question? “No. I’m sorry, Pillyn. I have no idea.” I wasn’t even shown my mother. “I wish she knew she had grandchildren,” she added aloud, not realizing it.
Lilli also thought of Temhas. And of her family, the family that she had (at least in their eyes) deserted. She was the first one to cry.
A few hours later they sat over the last of their evening meal. Outside the night air was crisp and clear, the wind still. The boychild slept in Pillyn’s arms. She had a special love for him, this son of Rendell who would grow to be like his father. He was calmer and less demanding than his fretful sister, a sign, she felt sure, that he had that inner core of quietness. She held him constantly, without realizing it, relinquishing him to his mother only when he had to be fed. Dalleena knew it but said nothing.
Lilli put aside her empty bowl and considered the two small forms. “It’s one moon last evening since they were born.”
“That’s right,” Pillyn said. “I almost forgot.”
Dalleena hadn’t. “Time to name them,” she said.
The custom was to name the baby on the first day of the second moon. If it died in its first weeks of life, it returned to the gods, untouched by mortal claims. When it received a name, it became part of its parents, possessed. Dalleena had turned over so many names in her mind, wavering. The boy should be called for his father, the girl for Ayenna. But it would endanger them, to call them by the sounds of a criminal and an overthrown queen, when they needed so much protection.
“Can we do the ceremony? You know it, don’t you, Dalleena?”
“Yes, I’ve assisted at several. But we’ll have to improvise a bit. I hope it’s not too cold out for them, but it can’t be done indoors. At least it stopped snowing,”
Baili sat up, yawning. “I never saw one. Can I help?”
“You all have to help.”
They bundled the babies up warmly. Overhead the crystal stars of deep winter were sparkling.
“The boy first,” Dalleena said. “He was born first.”
Lilli and Baili lit candles, shielding them in the palms of their hands. They were precious, but a service could not be conducted without ever-burning Fire. Pillyn stood beside them, holding the girl-child now, and whispering a few instructions to Baili. Dalleena faced east, where the new light would dawn. She stretched out her arms, holding the baby out, and though he kicked at first he did not cry.
“Blessed Royals of the heavens,” Dalleena began.
Behind her they went down on their knees, Pillyn careful of the baby. As she began the prayers they echoed the names after her, calling on the immortals in soft tones. “Mother Nialia, Queen of Fate, Wise Proseras, King of All, Strong Armas, and the Twain, Simsas and Reulas. Swift Wintern and joyous Ditta, loving Rena, bountiful Heila. Harsh and angry Nilsor ...” Her voice, melodic, listed the holy ones. The roll of the first fifty had to be called, as the child was held to the sky. It took some time, while her memory paused and remembered, skipped a little here, filled in there. She stumbled only once. “Dark Death – and – daughter Sanlin – ” They winced behind her.
“And all the hosts of the gods, and the sweet singing sprites, you who have given us this child, which now we claim for our own. Hear our prayers.” Her hands, cradled under him, trembled slightly. The starlight spilled on her hair. It glittered in answer.
“He who was born of love,” she said, and her voice shook.
“He who was born of love,” they repeated faithfully, knees in the snow. They followed her rhythm, caught and held in the mystery, feeling the breath of the immortals over them.
“He who was born of thy blessing; he who was born at thy word; he who is born to mortal time ...”
The prayers went on and the candles burned.
“He shall live and walk the earth.” Dalleena knelt too, and dipped the baby toward the ground. Gently and briefly, she rested him on the earth. “He shall know the earth, and all its bounty, and roam upon it for his work, and lie upon it for his rest. And he shall know the heavens.” She stood and lifted him, high over her head. A light dust of snow shook free of his blanket. “He shall know the sun of the morning and the dark of midnight, and the moon shall bathe him in its glow. Here then shall he live, among the gifts of you, our divinities. Here shall he sing, and love, and die. Here shall he worship you, and praise your names, and may he live all his life under your blessings.
“In the sight of the immortal gods, by the word of Nialia our Mother, I do name thee. And from this day onward shall he be called Paither Lista!”
Pillyn caught her breath. Lista – her own second name; it had been Rendell’s too, before he had taken the service of Armas. The boy-child kicked again.
Dalleena turned and exchanged bundles with Pillyn. They had it all to do over again, for the girl. They knelt once more and called the names. The new Paither looked up into Pillyn’s face, his mouth moving, as if he were learning to smile.
The girl-child was lifted up, and her mother called her. “Ennilyn Saila.”
Saila? Lilli thought. The goddess of Strife? The baby wriggled and protested in Dalleena’s arms, its crying shrill. Well, I can see it. It’s in her heart already. And what will she have to face?
The first names were common, ancient; every Lindahne household had them. It was a form of anonymity. It was a form of protection.
“Ennilyn’s pretty, but I don’t like Paither,” Baili said, and broke the spell. They burst into excited chatter, brushing the snow from their legs.
“Oh, Dalleena, to call him that –”
“It’s so cold – can’t we go in?”
“Hush, you little Ennilyn. How can you cry with such a beautiful new name? Let me hold you –”
“Come along.” Dalleena laughed. “Baili’s right, it’s freezing out here. You don’t think they’ll get sick, do you?”
In the cold gray dawn Dalleena burst out of sleep, sitting up in one motion and opening her eyes. She waited, and heard it again, inwardly. Another begrudged gift.
She shook Lilli violently. “Wake up! Wake up!”
Her friend felt a tight grip on her shoulders. Her head rolled back and forth, making her dizzy. “Wh – Wha –”
“Get up! All of you, wake up! Hurry!” Her shouts rang in th
e small shelter. Baili was the first to have his wits.
“What’s the matter?” he demanded.
“We’ve got to get out of here! We’ve got to leave!” Dalleena released Lilli and kicked away the blankets. She rolled to her feet, just missing the girl-baby, and ran for the packcases, heaped in the corner. “Get the food together. We’ll have to tear down the shelter, hide our tracks –”
“Dalleena!” Lilli shouted. “Put that down! What’s wrong with you?”
She whirled on her, her dark eyes ringed with terror. “He’s after us!”
“Who?”
“Sillus! It’s Sillus! That’s his smoke, it’s his camp! He’s escaped the Mendales!”
“Oh, Mother of all.” There was no reason to question how or why; they heard again the Nialian in her. “What’s he doing here? Hiding?”
“No, no –” Dalleena was flinging their meager possessions about, unable to sort things. “He’s coming for them –”
Pillyn and the boy were speechless. They left it to Lilli. “Who? Is he still trying to kill you?”
Dalleena sucked in a long breath, to calm herself. “Yes, but – but it’s not me. Don’t you understand? He wants to kill the babies.”
Pillyn pushed out of her pile of cloaks and started to roll them together in bundles. “Baili, go bring in the fish,” she ordered, and the boy went outside to the hanging lines.
Isn’t there any end? Lilli thought savagely. She started to pack.
They adjusted so quickly, without any more questions, moving through everything they had to do. Another upheaval, that was all; they had almost come to expect it. Sudden change, violent death, uncertainty and hard living had washed over them. They had lost the power to be shocked. The days ran on; on one they fled the country, on another they fled again. And to where? Lilli thought, her hands busy. Where do we go now?
All the labor they had put into it, to make it something of a place to live and not just a bundle of twigs, had to be undone. Pillyn stripped the paintings from their precarious perches. The fire was doused. What was left of their provisions was wrapped in the blankets that had been their beds. It took them less than an hour to shred the pieces of their little life. Dalleena stuffed the scrolls into her case; they were marked with her diagrams and calculations for the boat they wanted to build. A store of food went on her back, with the girl-child snuggled in her pouch in front. Pillyn had the boy. Baili struggled under a load of firewood, with Pillyn’s bow slung across his shoulder. West, Dalleena said, west was the way to go.
West is Mendale, Lilli thought, and kept her mouth shut.
In the end they left the shelter standing. It would have taken too long to destroy, and the signs of living were too deeply embedded in the ground: the path through the ice to the stream, the cleared area in front. It would have to stay, and in any case they could not bear to tear it down. They marched off, the morning sun weak and hidden by the clouds, and left it there, a shelter for nothing and no one.
Sillus’s men found the shelter two days later. They were reduced to ten now, some having died of wounds and exposure, others having crept off to surrender to the Mendales. Sillus had teetered and gone over the edge; his sanity was gone, if not his cunning. He was triumphant, seeing the signs of a hasty exit. She was running before him, a prey driven to ground. The men were hungry, finding it difficult to support themselves, angry at their exile, and frightened of the Mendales. With an exaggerated flash of his old persuasiveness Sillus had convinced them that Dalleena’s death – and the death of the child – would be their salvation. They need only bring her body as an offering to the conquerors, and then they would be safe. Those who were left accepted it. They were eager for any solution.
Dalleena’s driving panic did not diminish, and they nearly ran forward.They covered ground at a good rate, considering their burdens, but it was not fast enough for her. If they could get far enough away, perhaps they could turn aside and hide. The three women took shifts, resting when they could, foraging for food, keeping guard over the sleeping infants and child. They had to have fires to live, but they burned them low, and doused them if they smoked. If they kept straight on they would reach open territory, territory that must certainly be in Mendale hands. Still and again the burden was on Dalleena: decide. But what could they do? Where could they go?
“Father, they’re heading right for the arms of the Mendales,” Carden protested. They were following so closely that the falling snow had not had time to completely obliterate the tracks. Pursuit had become very easy; in one day, or two, they would have them.
“We’ll just have to catch them before that,” Sillus answered. “Four hours’ rest tonight, no more.”
The vantage point was a good one; they could see the soldiers changing shifts. Often they could hear the conversations, as news was passed along. In this way they learned of the patrols. Apparently this end of the woodlands had at one point or another hidden many other Lindahnes, fleeing the war and its destruction. Cold and hunger had driven them back out, but the Mendales seemed to think that many of the war prisoners or laborers might escape and try the same route. They did not want to encourage the beginnings of rebel settlements. The patrols kept most Lindahnes out of the area. Any found wandering or hiding in the woods were dragged into headquarters. Dalleena and Lilli heard the soldiers tell each other the fate of these unfortunates, who had been more reckless or just less lucky than they had themselves. Sometimes they were sent in chains to MenDas. Sometimes, if they could not explain themselves satisfactorily, they were put to death. Crouching in their thicket of trees, Dalleena and Lilli actually watched the capture of one man. He struggled and resisted, striking out at the soldiers. The patrol’s leader lost his temper; they killed him on the spot.
But it helped Dalleena to decide.
“We can’t stay here and wait for Sillus to catch up,” she said. The soldiers were playing dice, to pass the gray and cold afternoon. A few women, evidently from archery bands, seemed to be having a contest. Arrows thudded into bark. “And we can’t walk out of here and try to surrender to these – they’re far too eager to use their swords.”
“What, then?”
“It’s a bureaucrat, a politician, we want.”
“A bureaucrat?”
“I’ve been thinking,” she said. “I am, or I was, the relas of Lindahne. Just possibly I might be considered a political prisoner, useful for some kind of propaganda, maybe. If they have my mother she would be the same. Maybe I could even see her. And remember, Pillyn and even Baili are known to the Assembly members. A bureaucrat might see some value in us. We might be able to bargain, at least for our lives.”
“Wait,” Lilli said. “I’m not sure I understand. Do you mean surrender? But you said –”
“I said we can’t surrender to this group. They’ve got patrol leaders out here, but no high officers – not out here on the fringe of things. We have to talk to someone of high enough rank to keep us out of the reach of a sword and bring us to an Assembly member.”
“Where are we going to find someone like that? They did say before that their officer would be coming in soon. Could we wait until he shows up, and surrender then?”
“No. Sillus is too close, and we don’t know how long a wait it will be. And the patrols might catch us.”
A burst of laughter went up from the dice players. Someone had told a good joke.
Dalleena said, “I think we should try to get past them, and strike out for the Second. If we can get out of the reach of the patrols we can mingle in with the other Lindahnes. There must be high officers on the Second, probably headquartered in one of the old estates. We can surrender to them.”
“But how can we possibly get past?” Lilli protested.
“I don’t know. But we have to. It’s either that or fling ourselves into the Valtah.”
Sometimes at night, when the woods were very still, they could hear the rushing water.
Lilli said, “Somehow I never really believed
we were going to build a boat and cross it. It really is unconquerable. We would have drowned.”
Dalleena looked down at her hands, thinking of her scrolls and their careful calculations. The tips of her fingers were red. “I don’t think I ever really believed it either,” she said.
The night’s bitter cold sliced through their worn garments, but it was still their ally. Dalleena was glad to see that most of the guards huddled near their fires. Others, more faithful, or perhaps just junior members not entitled to privileges, remained at their posts. They paced steadily back and forth, but there were still gaps that could be taken advantage of. The exiles had abandoned all their possessions. Their hoods were drawn up. Dalleena had been careful to cover her hair, lest the starlight flash off it. At least the moon was only a thin sliver, giving little light. Another blessing, Dalleena thought. If we can get into the open we’ll make it.
A few of the soldiers left the fire, carrying mugs, returning to their duties. There were two guards close to them, who would presumably be getting a share.
“Broth or hot wine,” Lilli said, her voice faint in Dalleena’s ear.
She whispered back, “If these two go to the fire we’ll move.” She turned and repeated it to Pillyn and Baili, who were huddled behind, eyes wide. “Be quick, but more important be quiet.” Baili was breathing too loudly, drawing air in over his teeth. Dalleena put out a finger and closed his jaw.
Inside her cloak, strapped to her body to keep her hands free, she carried the girl-baby, whose hair rubbed like silk on her skin. They had used a little wine and a crushed herb that Lilli knew about to sedate them; then they had softly but firmly wrapped the tiny mouths closed. It was not exactly the way a mother should treat her children, but she did not want to find out how the soldiers would improve on it. If they did moan in their drugged sleep or even sneeze, there was nothing to stop it. Dalleena glanced at Pillyn. She had wanted them both with her. But Pillyn had almost cried at the idea of giving Paither up, and Lilli had pointed out how clumsy she would be with two bundles strapped to her. The boy-child hung in suspension against Pillyn’s young and shivering flesh.