“Then I will wait,” Adria offered. “Until I understand your ways better.”
Shísha nodded, as if in agreement, but said the opposite. “No. When you become a woman, you change the child you were into the woman you become. You were never a young child among the Aesidhe, and need not have known what they knew. It is important that you understand who you were, among your own people, and… who you may become, among whichever people you count as your own. This you are ready for, and it should not wait until I return, or until your speech is better. You will remember, and so will we.”
Adria thought upon her words. “I understand, Lichushegi.”
“We will see,” it was a challenge, perhaps, but she smiled a little nonetheless. She had been searching again through one of her packs, and found a small bundle within. “Likshochuhalene, take this to the woman who named you, or to another woman whom you love, and place it upon her foot. If she takes it up in her hand, she will come to you tomorrow, and will help you to ready yourself. Until then, you may eat nothing. You may sleep, but must sleep outside the camp, though not yet where the other women have their Moon. You may also not touch any male or any child. Tomorrow, when the sun has gone and the moon is still high, she will bring you here, and we will make of you a woman.”
Adria had unwrapped the bundle to find a small bunch of white fur. She asked, “And what if she does not take up the fur?”
“It is her right to refuse,” Shísha nodded. “But it is a great honor. It is often an older relative who names the child, and if she has died, or is not strong enough to perform her tasks for you, then you may ask another to stand for her. But the one who named you is young and strong, and will not refuse you.”
“I understand,” Adria said, and it seemed there was nothing else forthcoming, but still she lingered a moment in the woman’s circle. Only now did she realize that Shísha had halfway unpacked again, and was placing some of her things in a different order.
“Lichushegi... the Metehãloweye intend to leave today.” It was obvious, but Adria had only then realized she might be interrupting the normal course of things around her. It made her feel as anxious as proud.
Shísha again waved her hand dismissively. The sign might actually have been a word, but Adria did not know it. Regardless, Shísha explained in speech, “I will leave when you and I are finished. I can follow them quickly enough.”
Still, the fact that anyone would interrupt their life just for her seemed a foreign thing, somehow, no matter how many servants and Sister tutors she had known.
“Thank you, Lichushegi.”
Shísha nodded, and reached aside from what she was doing to grasp Adria’s hand once for just a moment before returning to her tasks.
Imani clapped girlishly when she realized what Adria had done, but then regained her composure, and solemnly knelt and took up the patch of white fur. She took a roll of thin gut or twine from a pouch at her belt, and she knotted it around the fur, tied this into her own hair, then called some of the nearby women of the tribe to see.
The women, young or old, embraced both Imani and Adria, some more than once, and gave words of congratulations and encouragement, which Adria did not fully understand, but understood the intent.
It was soon a rather large crowd, and Adria flushed at the closeness and all the recognition, and was glad she had first taken a detour to the river to clean herself with the lye — and had used the fur’s wrapping to keep herself that way.
The sudden focus of so much attention made her dizzy. Imani must have noticed this, for she took Adria’s arm in hers and began waving the others away.
Embarrassed? I am a princess, so often at the center of ceremony. Adria frowned. Still... that was different somehow. Perhaps it is just the pain and distraction of the Moon.
Adria had Imani’s help in making her own camp, as well, though she understood that this was not normal, and the young woman was careful to let Adria do most of the expected tasks. Adria was more than happy simply to have someone suggest a place for her rest, for she knew little about such things.
Imani also gifted her with a small leather flask, like one might use for a perfume, but a more earthy scent issued from inside. At Adria’s question, Imani made the sign of a bear — a rather obvious one which still made Adria laugh. Then she motioned for Adria to use some on her body, and to make a circle around her camp with the rest.
A potion to ward off hungry animals, Adria smiled. And perhaps also men, a danger of a different sort. She wondered, again, if she was being irreverent.
With slow and exaggerated gestures, Imani managed to communicate that Adria was to remain within her camp, and that Imani herself had to leave, but would return for her tomorrow. Adria nodded and smiled in understanding and thanks, and soon found herself alone.
Suddenly, she remembered that Preinon would be leaving with the rest of the Runners, and that she would not get to say goodbye. But in only a few minutes, her fears were relieved, for she heard and saw him approach through the brush — he moved deliberately, in consideration for her yet-untrained senses.
“It is a strange day,” she said, to show that she had noticed him.
“Like a webspinner’s craft,” Preinon chuckled. “Pull one strand, and the rest moves with it.”
Adria smiled at the image. “Are you supposed to be here, Uncle?”
“As an Aesidhe man, no,” he admitted as he squatted down just beyond the circle of her camp. “As the father-in-stead of an Aeman Princess, well… perhaps. Regardless, I have asked Shísha, and she has allowed it. It seems your Ceremony will be a little of both Aeman and Aesidhe, as well, if I understand her right.”
“Do you usually understand her?”
“We have our ways,” he smiled. “Well, she at least gave a clear ‘yes’ when I asked to see you. It might be the most definite answer I’ve had from her in years.”
He seemed to be finding his wit again, and Adria beamed at him from the confines of her circle, then sighed. “I hope this does not cause trouble for you… for the Runners, I mean.”
He shook his head. “No, Mateko has asked to stay and help her to catch up to us. They will make up the day quickly enough — well before we should need them. If we must, there is a place we can delay, to wait for them. We simply need to put some distance between ourselves and the camp.”
Adria swallowed. “There is danger?”
Preinon looked at first as if he would not answer, but then he nodded. “I have not been fully truthful, but… you are a woman now. Mateko does not climb trees merely for honey. He, and others among us, have watched for sign of the enemy, and it has come.”
Adria nodded. “How near?”
“Not an immediate danger. It is why we move. To determine their path, to stay ahead of them, and to lead them away from the more vulnerable camps.”
“Like the spring bears, the Knights will smell the blood,” Adria nodded. “The weaker and the wounded. You will draw them away.”
He nodded. “The Knights have moved more quickly than expected, and in an unexpected direction. They seem to be trying to outflank us from the east and south, instead of pushing us from the north.”
Adria grew anxious then, in her stomach, and her pain increased. I hope my Moon is only making a strong first impression, she hoped. Still, she wanted some small comfort from her uncle before he left, or at least more certainty of her fate, if it was his to give.
“Uncle,” she hesitated. I am so often hesitating, she thought, and wondered if that would somehow change, after the next night, once she was a woman. “Why have they changed plans?”
“If I knew that,” he sighed. “We might have predicted it beforehand, and not been made to rush.”
She shrugged, and he looked amused and perplexed with her.
He asked, “Why do you think they have changed?”
She took another moment
to gather her thoughts before answering with another question. “Do they know that I am here?”
Preinon did not answer.
He still does not wish to frighten me, Adria thought, continuing, “I am in danger here. I have brought danger here. I have allowed Taber an easy way to destroy me, far from the eyes of the citadel… or even more simply, to… proclaim me a traitor…”
“She would not do such a thing,” Preinon swiftly assured her “You are far more valuable alive and returned to your place.”
“As a political asset, you mean, something to barter… assuming I can be controlled long enough to trade away.” She frowned, but had calmed a little, and her tone held a little humor. “Ah, the glorious future of the Aeman princess, finally blossomed into womanhood, destined to cement some alliance or other through strategic marriage to a foreign noble.”
Preinon smiled. “And you thought they taught you the languages of Somana and Kelmantium so that you could enjoy their epic poetry?”
Adria sighed. “The wayward princess, deluded by childish fantasies of ghosts or fairies in the forest, wanders off on a misadventure.” Even as she said it, she realized she had done exactly that. A little embarrassed at the thought, she continued the argument hastily.
“It is still dangerous for me to be here,” she reasoned. “Perhaps they mean to reclaim me. They might claim I was kidnapped, or at least prevented from returning, and use this as an excuse for outright war against the Aesidhe.”
“They need no such excuse,” he said. “And there is no political reason for them to declare open hostilities. They would gain no advantage with anyone. It is better for them to make war slowly, to pace the destruction of the Aesidhe, so that there are enough Aeman to claim the lands that are taken, and so that more Knights can be brought to the cause. When this threat is gone, they will need another — if not a rebellion, then they will likely have to cross borders to find it. That is too much of a risk until Heiland is stronger. Your father’s kingdom is still young, as well as the Matriarch’s church. You are safe here, for the time being.”
Adria shook her head. “But… when I first arrived, you said I had brought danger with me. I remember.”
Preinon hesitated, then merely shook his head. “I spoke hastily. I have a better understanding now.”
He seemed a little too certain, and Adria realized that he was keeping something from her even as he was leading her to draw conclusions.
“Still, I could be an embarrassment for them, for my father, should the truth of my leaving be told.”
“The truer stories are often the last to be told, and often less believed because of it.” Preinon shrugged. “We cannot understand their motive from their method, not yet. But you must put this from your mind, for now. You should clear your thoughts of war, and focus upon becoming a woman, Lilene. Shísha will somehow know I’ve distracted you, and name me a bad teacher.”
Adria sighed and nodded her surrender. “Fine. I will meditate all day on what it means to have such a womanly stomachache.”
He looked a little embarrassed, but nonetheless amused. He rose, and looked at the circle which separated them. “It is a good thing I did not mean to give you a proper goodbye…”
“If you are going to say something about a bear hug, I’d strongly reconsider…”
Preinon laughed, shaking his head, and then sighed in farewell. “Be safe, Second Daughter.”
Adria nodded, and tears came suddenly. I’ve spent my life trapped in circles. A tower set apart from the world, a tiara and a title, and now a ring upon the ground to keep a woman from a world. And still… there are worse shapes for a life to follow.
“Journey in a circle, Uncle,” Adria managed with a broken voice. “Promise me one last childish embrace. Promise me you will return.”
His eyes grew wet as well. “You have never been alone, Adria Idonea. And you will not be now.”
Hunting the White Wolf
Imani had a particularly Aesidhe beauty. Full of face, lush of body, and with a single thick dark plait down her back, entwined with feathers, a few white beads, and one red. Adria felt slight beside her as they broke Adria’s camp together before the sun arose. She was not much older than Adria, but already soon to be paired with a man and well ready to make her own home as a woman.
When they finished, Imani led her to the riverside and took a bundle from her own pack while Adria looked on. It was a cool morning, and Adria half dreaded part of what she knew would come next — she would probably be expected to bathe, and the water would be rather more brisk than she liked.
Upon the sandy bank Imani had opened and arrayed the contents of the bundles upon their hide and cloth wrappings, and Adria realized that she would even have to bathe with the other woman present.
Squires have a bath before their knighting, she reasoned. With senior knights attending them. This is not, then, so strange.
She noted a comb and oil for her hair, feathers, a single red bead, a jar of pigment like the Hunters used, and something which looked like a paintbrush, but tipped in soft white bristles like the ones she had given Imani. An article of shiny white cloth proved to be a gown as it unfolded.
Silk…? Adria wondered in disbelief.
There was a smaller cloth, attached to twine, for her to wear underneath, and finally what seemed to be a rattle, as if for a baby to play with, made from a gourd and painted with a simple line drawing of a wolf.
For a moment she wondered if she was going to have to determine how to use these things on her own, but then Imani, once she saw that Adria had examined each, approached Adria and took her hand. Then she pointed to herself with the other, and said, with some difficulty, “Mother.” It sounded rather more like “moo-tuh,” for the Aesidhe only used the “m” sound properly in their language.
Adria did not show any amusement, of course, knowing her own few Aesidhe words were far from perfect.
Shísha must have tutored Imani in the words she might need, Adria smiled gratefully, nodding her understanding.
Imani led her two steps into the river, just so the water came over their ankles, and then, slowly enough that Adria could tell exactly what she was doing, she began removing Adria’s clothing. Reflexively, Adria glanced around, to be fully certain that no one else was nearby.
It is unusual for no one else to be in or near the water, Adria thought. The entire tribe must have been told to avoid the river for the sake of ceremony.
Even more than her growing nakedness and the attendance of someone else in its accomplishment, this understanding made her face glow with embarrassment. Even in absence, the whole tribe is a part of this, even every child who would happily be bathing just now.
Imani moved with absolute care and tenderness, and Adria half imagined she remembered Kaye, undressing and bathing her as a small child. But she could not be sure. It was the kind of thing she had thought of, the day and night before, in her meditation. And she was very hungry, and a little dazed. She realized that, perhaps, this was part of the point.
When Imani had finished undressing her, she did the same for herself, without a hint of embarrassment — though the same could not be said for Adria, whose own body paled next to the other’s in every way. Imani had sat her own clothing next to Adria’s on the beach, and took up the oil and comb, then led her out further into the water, where she unwound each of Adria’s braids, rinsed and oiled and combed her hair, and washed Adria’s body just enough so as not to make her uncomfortable. She left the rest to Adria herself, as she turned to where the morning light filtered through the trees over the bank.
Imani sang a song, then, without meter or rhyme, but Adria could understand almost nothing of the words. She seemed to be arguing with the sun, and asking it to wait, and Adria nearly laughed when Imani started to make motions of pushing away. At the end, she crossed her arms and turned her face away, as if ignoring its p
leas.
Adria had finished by then, and Imani led her to the beach, where she gave Adria the smaller garment to wear about her hips, and took up the beads and feathers to braid into Adria’s hair as the two of them dried, shivering. Imani chatted as she did this, and either this was a less solemn part of the ceremony, or else the young woman merely reverted to her usual self in the familiar task.
Adria tried to follow some of it but had little success. Imani spoke much more quickly than was usual for an Aesidhe, and Adria was not the only one disinclined or unable to interrupt her.
When it was finished, Adria had four braids, each decorated with a different color of feathers, save for one smaller one with the single red bead. She recognized this as similar to the alchemical tradition she had learned from the Sisterhood, handed down through generations of Aeman and even Kelmantian scholars.
Each color represented to some an archangel, others a primary element of the universe, a bodily humor… the correspondences were many, but together represented a balance of the spirit, the mind, and the body — the changes of each season, and each phase of life.
Perhaps the wisdom of the Aesidhe is closer to the Aeman than either would likely admit, Adria smiled, comforted. There must be some truth in the whole mess, then.
Imani lifted the gown up over Adria’s head, and let it fall onto her arms and shoulders. It really was silk, which Adria thought was only made by a rare breed of worm in Somana.
Surely the Aesidhe do not trade with them. They must have their own silk-makers. But still, the challenge of keeping the garment clean and untorn for any length of time would be significant. Maybe it was some sort of test. Her sweat alone would ruin such fabric soon after the sun touched her body.
Oh… And she began to understand. The Sun wasn’t supposed to touch her. She was to remain in shadows, with the Moon. Still, she shivered, for though the gown was a rough silk, it hardly matched the warmth of linen, much less of wool or furs. She hoped she would not have to wear it long. The moon doesn’t provide much heat.
Heir of Scars I: Parts 1-8 Page 28