Текст книги "Magic's Pawn"

Автор книги: Mercedes Lackey

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

Somewhere just outside were Kellan and Yfandes, standing a watchful guard in the falling snow. Still in their tack, poor things – she’d barely been able to get Vanyel unstrapped from the saddle before collapsing beside him. She had nearly forgotten to activate the Wing-sister Talisman. It had taken Kellan’s sharp reminder to shake her out of her fog of exhaustion long enough to stab her finger and let the prescribed three drops of her blood fall on it.

Memory came, then, as sharply defined as if she had bid farewell to the Hawkbrothers scant days ago instead of years.

* * *

“Blood calls to blood, and heart to heart,” Starwind told her gravely, his ice-blue eyes focused inward. He held his slashed palm above the Wingsister Talisman of silver wire and crystals, and his blood dripped onto the heart-stone of the piece, dyeing the clear crystal a vivid ruby.

Savil watched, silently, feeling the power flowing and weaving itself into the intricate design of rainbow crystal and silver wire.

This was nothing like the kind of magic she was used to using; it really wasn’t much like that the Hawkbrothers had taught her, either. This was older magic, much older, dating, perhaps, from the times of the Mage Wars, the wars that had wrecked the world and left the Pelagirs a twisted, magic-riddled ruin. She shivered a little, and Starwind looked up, one of his brief and infrequent smiles lighting his face for a moment.

He closed his hand; Moondance touched the back of it, and he opened it again. The slash in his palm had been Healed with the speed of a thought. At eighteen the young outlander now calling himself “Moondance” was well on his way to becoming that rarest of mages, a Healer-Adept.

Starwind fixed the Talisman in its place on the mask of feathers and crystal beads; it resembled a palm-sized diadem perched on the brow of the mask above the eye-slits. He handed the whole mask to her, and nodded at the Talisman. “When you need us again, come to us, and let three drops of your own blood fall upon the heart-stone. I shall know, and come to you.”

In all those years since, the heart-stone’s bright scarlet had not faded. She only hoped that the set-spell had not faded either. It did seem to her that the heart-stone began pulsing with a dim, inner light from the moment that her blood touched it. But that could have been the flickering of the fire, or the wavering of her own vision; she was too spent to tell, and too drained to begin to sense power even if it was moving under her own nose.

Vanyel stirred at her side, curling his knees tighter against his chest. She shifted a bit, glad that the floor of the cave was covered in several inches of dry, soft sand.

Poor child, she thought, her mind dark with despair. I’m at a loss for what to do with you. You keep reaching out to me for support, and I want to give it to you, and I can’t, I mustn’t. If I do, you’II just fall right back into the pattern you danced with poor ‘Lendel. She stroked the fine, silky hair beneath her hand, and her heart ached for him. You don’t know what to think anymore, do you? You’re afraid to touch again, afraid to open yourself, you’re full of such fear and such pain– gods, when you told Withen that nothing would ever make you happy again-

She swallowed the lump in her throat that threatened to choke her, and blinked at the dancing flames, then closed her stinging eyes and felt tears bead up on her lashes. Starwind, old friend, she thought desperately, where are you? I’m out of my depth; I don’t know what to do. I need your help-

:And you have it, sister-of-my-heart.:

She started. There was a swirl of snow at the cave entrance, white-gold and shadow in the dancing firelight. There had been no alert from either Companion-But when the snow settled and cleared, he was there.

He hadn’t changed, not at all.

The sword of ice, she had called him when she’d first seen him. Flowing silver hair still reached past his waist when he put back,the hood of his white cloak and let the silky mass of it tumble free. There still were no wrinkles in his face, not even around the obliquely-slanting, ice-blue eyes; he was still tall and unbent, still slender as a boy. Only the cool deeps of his eyes showed his age, and the aura of power that pulsed about him. No mage would ever have any doubts that this was an Adept, and a powerful one.

He smiled at her, and held out his hands. “Welcome, heart-sister, Wingsister Savil,” he said in the liquid Tay-ledrastongue, gliding to her to take the hands she held up to him in his own. “Always welcome, and well come thou art.”

“Starwind, shaydra,”her sight darkened for a momerit, and when it cleared, the TayledrasAdept was kneeling at her side, holding her upright.

“Savil, you stubborn, headstrong woman,” he chided, as she felt an inrushing of energy from his center to hers. She swayed a little, and he held her upright. “What need could possibly have been so great that you drain yourself to a wraith to Gate yourself here?’’

“This need – “ She pulled back her cloak to show him the boy curled against her side, his face taut with pain.

“God of my fathers – “ He reached out with his free hand and barely touched Vanyel’s brow. He pulled back his hand as if it had been burned. “Goddess of my mothers! What have you brought me, sister?”

“I don’t know,” she said, slumping wearily against him. “He’s been blasted open, and he can’t heal – more than that – I’m too tired to tell you right now. So much has happened, and to both of us – I just can’t think what to do anymore. All I know is that he’s hurting, and I can’t help him, and if I’d left him where he was he’d have destroyed himself at the best, and half the capital at the worst.”

“There is nothing wrong with your judgment, I pledge you that,” Starwind replied, sitting back on his heels and regarding the boy dubiously. “There is such potential there – he frightens me. And such darkness of the soul-no, Wingsister, not evil;there is nothing evil in him. Just – darkness. Despair is a part of it, but – denial of what he is and must become is another. Self-willed darkness; he wills himself not to see, I think.”

“You see more than I do,” she told him, rubbing her aching forehead. “I haven’t the right to ask it of you, but – will you help me with him? Canyou help me?”

The firelight turned the ice of his eyes to blue-gold flame. “You have the right, sister to brother, to ask what you will of me. Did you not gift me with the greatest of all gifts, in the person of my shay’kreth’ashke? “

She had to smile a little at that. Bringing Starwind another boy long ago had been one of the few unalloyed good things she’d ever done. “Where is Moondance, anyway?’’

:Moondance stands in the snow, defending his head and his lifeblood. Telling the,stranger-lasha’Kaladra not to eat me,: came the laughter-flavored reply. I frightened her. She does not trust me, I think.:

:Kellan– : Savil Mindspoke tiredly.

:He popped up right under Yfandes’ nose and scared the liver out of her, Chosen,: Kellan replied apologetically. :She went for him before we knew who it was. It’s all right now, he’s just making amends.:

:Bright Havens, Kelt, you know him, at least!: she snapped, her tiredness making her impatient.

:Not anymore - :

“Ifear I have greatly changed, Wingsister,” Moon-dance said contritely from the entrance. “And I also fear I had forgotten the fact.”

Savil looked over Starwind’s shoulder and felt her mouth gaping. Starwind put one finger beneath her chin, and shut it for her with a chuckle.

“Great good gods!” she said after a moment of stunned silence. “You havechanged!”

The Moondance she had known – he hadn’t had the name “Moondance” for long at that point – had been brown-haired and brown-eyed and as ordinary as a peasant hut. Not surprising for one of peasant stock. But now – now the hair was as long and as silver and the eyes as ice-blue as Starwind’s. The lines of his face were still the same; square to Starwind’s triangle, but the cheekbones were far more prominent than Savil remembered, and the body had grown out of adolescent gawkiness and into a slender grace so like Starwind’s that they could have been brothers by birth instead of by blood.

:He evensmells different,: Kellan complained.

“How did you dothat?” Savil demanded.

Moondance made a fluid shrug, and tossed the sides of his white cape over his shoulders, showing that he wore only thin gray breeches and a sleeveless gray leather jerkin with matching boots. Savil shivered at this reminder that the Tayledrasnever seemed to notice the cold. “It’s the magic we use,” he said. “It makes us into what it wants us to be. I think.”

“As always, an oversimplification,” Starwind correcled him fondly. ‘ ‘ Ka’sheeleth. Savil has brought us a problem. Come look at this boy – “

Moondance drifted over to Savil’s other side, sat on his heels beside her, and studied Vanyel’s face for several breaths.

“Hai’yasha, “he breathed. “Shay’a’chern, hmm? And Lovelost? No, it goes deeper than that.” He reached out as Starwind had, and touched Vanyel’s forehead, but unlike Starwind, did not pull away. “Ai’she’va– Holiest Mothers! The pain!”His jaw tightened and the pupils of his eyes contracted to pinpoints. “Reft and bereft of shay ‘kreth ‘ashke.’’His face took on the tranquillity of a statue. “Pawn he is now – pawn he has been – “ he said, his tone flat, his voice dropping half an octave. “Pawn to what he is and what he wills not to be. But will or no, the pawn is in play – and the play is a trial – “

“And what of the game?” Starwind asked in a whisper.

Moondance hesitated, then life came back to his face as he shrugged again, and his pupils went back to normal. “No way of knowing,” he replied, slowly taking his hand from Vanyel’s forehead. “That depends entirely upon whether he is willing to become more than a pawn. But yours to be the Teaching, I think,” he said, looking up sharply at the Adept. “It is like your powers that he holds. As for Healing, I think that half of it will be his doing – if he Heals at all – “

“And the other half yours,” the Adept stated with an ironic smile.

Moondance turned Vanyel’s wrist up, showing the scar across it – then turned over his own hand, and the firelight picked out the scar that ran from the gold-skinned hand halfway to the elbow, a scar that followed the course of the blue vein pulsing beneath the skin. “Who better?” he asked. “We have something in common, I think.”

Savil swayed again, caught in a sudden dizziness, and Starwind took hold of her shoulders to steady her. “You need rest,” he said in concern. “Will you have it here, or can you ride?’’

Savil thought longingly of just lying down where she was, and then reflected on being able to do so in a bed.

And also on the Companions, out there in the snow and cold, and still in their harnesses.

“The Companions can and will carry double,” she sighed, feeling just about ready to fade away. “If you’re willing to ride them. Or strap us in, I don’t much care which. But I’d like themin the warm.”

“Then we ride,” Starwind said, as Moondance scooped Vanyel up in his arms as if he weighed next to nothing. The older Adept rose to his feet and offered her his hand, and it took every scrap of will she had left to her to stumble erect. “It is not far, Wingsister.”

“I hope not,” she told him earnestly, staggering out into the snow, while Moondance put the fire out with a single backward glance. “Because if it isn’t, you’re going to be carrying me as well as the boy.’’

First there was darkness, and the peace that came with being so drugged that there was no thought at all. It was the only time he felt anything like peace, these days, and he welcomed the drugs and the red-haired Healer who brought them. There were times without counting when he hoped that thistime the Healer had miscalculated – that thistime he wouldn’t wake.

Then there was pain; unfocused, but somewhere near at hand. Like the touch of sun on skin already reddened and burned. It got past the drugs, somehow; he tried to push it away, but it continued to throb in those half-healed places in his mind, promising him more pain to come.

Then – nothing butpain; fire in his veins and under his skin, flames dancing along his nerves and scorching his mind. Gate-fire, Gate-energy – it was unmistakable, and unbearable, and yet it continued long past the moment he thought his sanity would shatter or his heart stop. He screamed, or thought he did. He was lost in it, and there was no way out – not even death, for the pain would not let him die.

Then it was gone. But it left him aching, all the channels burned raw again, and worse, all the memories replaying themselves over and over – Gala dying, Tylendel throwing himself from the Tower, Tylendel lying in state in the Temple -

Then, without warning, the Dream.

He stood blocking the way, a one-mage barricade across Crook-Back Pass. Mage-light from his upraised hand reflected from the impassive faces and hollow, empty eyes of the three wizards who opposed him.

This was notlike the old dream – the dream of being alone in the ice. This was – something else. He could sense things, shards of meaning, just under the surface of it, but couldn’t seem to bring them out to where he could read them.

But it felt – real. Fearfully real.

“Why do you bother with this nonsense?”

The voice from behind the wizards was sweet, lilting. One more figure paced forward as the ranks of the army backing the wizards parted to let him pass.

“You are quite alone, Herald-Mage Vanyel. “ One of the wizards stepped two paces to the side to allow the newcomer through to the center, to face Vanyel.

He was beautiful; there was no other word for him. A perfectly sculptured face and body, hair and eyes of twilight shadow, a confidence, poise and power so complete they were works of art.

Except for the dark eyes, he could have been Vanyel’s brother; except that he wastoo perfect, he could almost have been a younger Vanyel.

He was clad in dull black armor, like his soldiers, but carried no weapon. He didn’t need one; hewas a weapon. He was a weapon with no other purpose than the destruction and death he molded into his power. Unlike the knife which could cut to heal or harm, this weapon would never serve any other purpose than pain. Vanyel knew that as well as he knew himself.

“You are, “the beautiful young man repeated; smiling, choosing his words to hurt, ‘ ‘quite alone.’’

Vanyel nodded. ‘ ‘You tell me nothing I was not already aware of. I know you. You areLeareth.” The word meant-

‘ ‘ Darkness.’’ Leareth laughed. ‘ ‘I am. Darkness. And these are my servants. A quaint conceit, don’t you think?”

Vanyel said nothing. Every moment he kept Leareth here was one more moment speeding Yfandes down the road with Tylendel -

– but Tylendel was dead -

“You need notremain alone,” Leareth continued, moistening his lips with his tongue, sensuously. “You have only to stretch out your hand to me, Vanyel, and take my Darkness to you– and you would never be alone again. We could accomplish much together, we two. Or if you wish– I could even– ‘‘ he stepped forward a pace; two. ‘Icould even bring back your long-lost love to you. Think of him, Vanyel. Think of Tylendel– alive, and once more at your side. ‘‘

“NO!”

He struck at the terrible, beautiful face, struck with all the power at his command– and wept as he struck.

:Dreams, young Vanyel.: A blue-green voice froze him in mid-strike. : Nothing but dreams. They vanish into mist if you will it.:

The army, the pass, Leareth, all whirled away from him into another kind of darkness; this was a darkness that soothed, and he embraced it as eagerly as he had repudiated the other.

Cool, green-gold music threaded into the darkness; not dispelling it, but complementing it. It wound its way into his mind, and wherever it went, it left healing behind it; in all the raw, bleeding places, in all the burning channels. It flowed through him and he sank into it, drifting, drifting, and content to drift. It surrounded him, bathed him in balm, until there was nothing left of hurt in him -

– except the place Tylendel had left behind – the place that still ached so emptily -

The green-gold music was joined by another, a blue-green harmony like the voice that had spoken to dispel the dream. And this music was no longer letting him drift aimlessly. It was leading him; it had wound around his soul and he had no choice but to follow where it wanted him to go.

The blue-green music took the melody, the green-gold faded to a descant, and the voice spoke in his dreams again. :Look; you wish control -here is your center -so to center andso to ground -:

The music led him in a dance wherein he found a balance he hadn’t known he craved until he found it. The music spun him around; he spun with it, and he knew that having found this point of equilibrium he would not lose it again.

:So, so, so, exactly so,: the music chuckled. :Now, you would protect yourself-thus the barrier, see? Dense, and it keeps all out, flexible to your will. Always your will, young Vanyel, it is will and nothing less-

It spun him walls to keep others out of his mind; he saw the way of it and spun them thicker, harder – then raveled them again down to the thinnest of barricades, knowing he could build them up again when he wanted to.

Then the blue-green music faded, leaving the green-gold to carry the melody alone. It sang to him then, sang of rest, sang of peace, and he dreamed. Dreamed of waking, moving to another’s will, to drink and care for himself and sleep again. But no more dreams that hurt, only dreams full of the verdant music.

Then he woke – truly woke, not dreams of waking – to the sound of it; breathy, haunting notes that wandered into and out of melodies that he half recognized, but couldn’t identify. There was a scent of ferns; a smell of growing things, a whiff of freshly-turned earth, and a hint of something metallic. Behind the music, he heard the sound of gently falling water.

He was no longer drugged. And the mind-channels within him no longer burned and tormented him.

He opened his eyes, slowly.

He thought for one mad moment that he was somehow suspended in a tree. He was surrounded on all sides by greenery, and luxuriantly-leaved branches hung over his head. Then he saw that while the branches were real, and the leaves, they were not the same organism. The branches supported huge ferns whose fronds draped down like a living canopy over his bed, and the greenery about him was a curtaining of multi-layered, multi-shaded green fabric hung from a framework of more branches, each layer as light and transparent as a spiderweb, and cut to resemble a cascade of leaf shapes. He had never in his life imagined that there could be so many colors of green.

Weak beams of sunlight threaded past the fern fronds. The blankets – if that was what they were – were a darker green, like moss, and felt as soft as velvet, but were thick and heavy.

He tried to sit up, and discovered that he couldn’t. He was absolutely spent, with no strength left at all.

The music beyond the curtains finished with a breathless, upward-spiraling run, and a few moments later, the curtains parted.

Vanyel blinked in surprise at the young man who stood there, framed by the green of the curtain material; he knew he was staring, and rudely, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d never seen anyone who looked like this -

A young man – silver-haired as any oldster, with hair longer than most women had, and with eyes of light blue that measured and weighed him, full of secrets and thoughts that Vanyel couldn’t begin to read. He wore a sleeveless green jerkin, and breeches of a darker green, and in the hand that held back the curtains there was a white flute that looked as if it had been carved from luminescent, opaque crystal.

Vanyel suddenly realized that, indeed, he couldn’tread the young man’s thoughts; there was presencethere, but nothing spilling over into his own mind.

He stammered out the first things in his mind – not terribly clever, and certainly not original but – “W-w-where am I? W-w-who are you?”

The young man tilted his head to one side a little, and Vanyel saw a faint hint of smile as he replied, very slowly and with a strange accent, “Well. ‘Where am I?’ you ask me – better than I had feared. I had half dreaded hearing “whoam I?’ young Vanyel.” He tilted his head the other way, and this time the smile was definite. “You are in k’Treva territory in the Pelagir Hills, and before you ask, your aunt, our Wingsister Savil, brought you here. We are her friends; she asked us to help her with your troubles. I am Moondance k’Treva; I am Tayledras, and I have been your Healer. That is my bed you are lying in. Do you like it? Starwind says it is a foolish piece of conceit, but Ithink that this is only because he did not think of it first.”

Vanyel could only blink at him in bewilderment.

Moondance shook his head, ruefully. “I go too fast for you. Simple things first. Are you hungry? Thirsty? Would you like to bathe?”

All at once he washungry – and thirsty – and disgustingly aware that his skin was crawling with the need for a bath.

“All three,” he said, a little hesitantly.

“Then we remedy all three.” Moondance pulled the curtains back to the foot and the head of the bed, and -

– and reached to pull off the blankets. At which point Vanyel realized that he was quite nude beneath the bed-coverings. He flushed, and clutched at the blanket.

Moondance gave him an amused look. “Who do you think it was that undressed you and put you where you are?” he asked. “I pledge you, it was not the Eastern Wind.”

Vanyel flushed again, but did not release the blanket.

“So, so – here, my modest one – “ Moondance reached up to one side among the hangings, and detached something which he tossed onto the blankets. Vanyel reached for it – a wrap-robe of something green and silken that was, thankfully, much more substantial than the hangings. As Moondance pointedly turned his back, he eased out of the bed and wrapped it around himself.

And reached for one of the bed-supports as dizziness made the room spin around him.

“That will never do.”There was a cool touch between his eyes, and the room steadied.

“Come,” Moondance was just in front of him, holding out his hands encouragingly. “Keep your eyes on me – yes. A step. Another. You have been long abed, young Vanyel, you must almost learn to walk again.”

The TayledrasHealer walked backward, slowly, as Vanyel followed, looking only at his eyes. But he did not move to give the boy support in any way, except the one time Vanyel stumbled and nearly fell. Then Moondance caught him; held him until he could find his balance again, and only when Vanyel was standing firmly again did he draw away.

Vanyel was vaguely aware that they had crossed a threshold into another room, but just walkingwas costing him so much sweating, concentrated effort he didn’t dare look around any. It seemed to take years before Moondance stopped, caught his elbow, and guided him to a seat on a smooth rock ledge that rimmed a raised pool of water so hot that it steamed.

“Now, look about you.” Moondance waved at the pool and the rest of the room. “This is the pool for washing. Here is soap. When you are clean, go there, the pool for resting.”

Though the pool Vanyel was sitting beside was deep, it was quite small. Next to the “pool for washing” was another, much larger, much deeper, and slightly above it, with an opening in the side that spilled hot water down into this pool. Both pools looked natural; rock-sided and sandy-bottomed.

“I think even weak as you are, you shall be able to find your way there. I shall return with food and drink.” The young man hesitated a moment – then with the swiftness of a stooping hawk, leaned over and kissed Vanyel full on the lips. “You are very welcome, young Vanyel,” he said, before Vanyel had a chance to get over his surprise. “We are pleased to have you, Starwind and I, and not just for the sake of Wingsister Savil.”

He vanished before Vanyel had a chance to react.

Vanyel found that if he moved slowly and carefully he didn’t exhaust himself. He shed the robe and eased himself into the water with a sigh, and soaped and rinsed until he finallyfelt clean again. His pool emptied itself over the side and down a channel in the floor – and where the water went from there he couldn’t say. He had figured by now that this was some kind of hot spring, which accounted for the metallic tang in the air.

With Moondance gone, he had a chance to get a good look around while trying to sort himself out. There didn’t appear to be any “doors” as such in this dwelling; just doorways. This bathing room was multileveled; highest level was the “pool for resting” which cascaded to the next level and the “pool for washing,” which in turn was above the “floor” and the channel carrying the water away that was cut into it. There were no windows in the walls of natural rock; the whole was lit by a skylight taking up the entire ceiling, and there were green and flowering plants and ferns standing and hanging everywhere. There was only one entrance into this room – that led back to the bedroom, also rock-walled and roofed with a skylight, from what Vanyel could see of it.

The ledge between the pools was notthat high, though it took far more of Vanyel’s strength to get over it than he would have believed. Once in the larger pool he discovered that his surmise was right; crystalline hot water bubbled up from the sand in the center of the pool; someone had improved on nature by forming the rock of the pool sides below the waterline into smooth benches.

It was wonderful; the water was about as hot as was comfortable, and was forcing him to relax whether or not he wanted to. He closed his eyes and sat back, deliberately thinking of absolutely nothing, and only opened them again when he heard light footsteps crossing the stone floor below him.

It was, as he expected, Moondance, who had brought with him an earthenware beaker of what proved to be cider and a plate of sliced bread and cheeses and fruit.

“Eat lightly,” the young man warned, climbing to Vanyel’s level and setting his burdens down on the rim of the pool at Vanyel’s right hand. “You have been three weeks without true food, and spent more than one of those days drugged.”

“Three weeks?”

Moondance shrugged. “You needed Healing, of a kind your good Healer Andrel could not give you. I think perhaps no Healer among your folk could have given you such Healing; they know nothing of the Healing of hurts caused by magic, only of illness and wounding. Thatis a study only a few have made, and most of those few Tayledras. Eat, young Vanyel. There are herbs in the bread and the drink to strengthen you.”

“Where – where is Savil?” he asked, suddenly a little worried at being alone with a stranger.

“With Starwind. She was very weary, both in body and in soul. This – thing that has happened. It has been a deep grief to her, as well to you. Her heart is as sore, I think. They are old friends, my shay’kreth’ashkeand Savil, and there are no secrets between them, and much love. She has need of such love. Perhaps more than you, for shehas had no one to lend her support.”

Vanyel had looked up at him sharply at that – with the word ashkestriking him with the force of a cold slap in the face, making his heart pound painfully.

Moondance looked down at him, something speculative in his glance. He weighed Vanyel for a moment, then cleared his throat and looked away, deliberately. “I have a thing to say to you, a thing I wish you to think upon.”

Vanyel put down his cider, and waited, apprehensively, to hear the rest.

“I have shared your thoughts; I know more of you than anyone, except, perhaps, your shay’kreth’ashke.”

Moondance changed his position so that he was sitting with his back to the pool, leaning his weight against his hands and staring up at the clouds visible through the skylight. He was being very careful notto look at Vanyel.

“As you have guessed from my words,” he said, “I am shay’a’chern. As is Starwind. As you.” Now he gave Vanyel a very brief, sidelong glance. “I am a Healer-Adept and I Heal more than people – I Heal places. I know the natural world as only one who wishes to restore it to its rightful balances can. This is the thing I wish to tell you; in all the world, there are more creatures than just man that make lifetime matings. Among them, some of the noblest – wolves, swans, geese, the great raptors-all creatures man could do worse than emulate, in many, many ways. And with all of them, all, there are those pairings, from time to time, within the same gender. Not often, but not unheard of either.”

Vanyel found himself unable to move, and unable to anticipate the direction this was taking.

Now Moondance dropped his eyes to catch and hold Vanyel’s in a joining of glances and wills that was unbreakable.

“There is in you a fear, a shame, placed there by your own doubts and the thoughts of one who knew no better. I tell you to think on this: the shay ‘a ‘chernpairing occurs in nature. How then, ‘unnatural’? Usual, no; and not desirable for the species, else it would die out for lack of offspring. But not unnatural. The beasts of the fields are innocent as man can never be, who has the knowledge of good and evil and the choice between, and they do not cast out of their ranks the shay ‘a ‘chern. There was between you and your shay ‘kreth ‘ashkemuch love – only love. There is no shame in loving.”

Vanyel couldn’t breathe; he could only see those ice-blue eyes.

“This I think I have learned: where there is love, the form does not matter, and the gods are pleased. This I have observed: what occurs in nature, comes by the hand of nature, and if the gods did not approve, it would not be there. I give you these things as food for your heart and mind.”

Once again, before Vanyel could move, he bent deliberately and kissed him, but this time on the forehead.

“I leave you for a moment with both kinds of nourishment.” He smiled, and gave Vanyel a slow wink. “Since you are not to stay in the pool forever, I must needs find you clothing. Iwould not mind, but your aunt grows anxious and wishes to see you awake and aware, and we would not wish to put her to the blush, hmm?”