Dawnsinger Page 2

“I did not stop the night. I couldn’t contain my excitement at nearing home.” His gaze drifted past her to the muscular Cook garbed in a brown tunic, who smiled at their exchange.

  Mother met Kai’s look. “I think we shall continue later, Maeric,” she said without seam. “I won’t detain you from your duties longer. Tahera, please bring cider, cheese and bread.”

  The door to the raelein’s parlor closed with a click behind Maeric and Tahera, and they were alone.

  Kai went to the fire, grateful for its comfort as he steeled himself for what he would say.

  “You must sit.” His mother gestured in invitation as she resumed her seat on the bench. “Now tell me what has brought you on such a difficult journey.”

  “I’ve come for Shae.”

  Mother let out her breath in a long sigh. “And so I am to lose another child.”

  “Lof Raelein Maeven sends for her while on her deathbed.”

  Her hand flew to her throat. “The time has come, then.”

  “It nears, yes.” He ignored a frisson of uneasiness. Of course, he spoke of more than Maeven’s death. “It’s long past time Shae learns her true identity as Raena Shaenalyn of Rivenn. On her dying bed, Lof Raelein Maeven yearns for her daughter.”

  His mother squared her shoulders as if recovering from a blow. “I thought I had prepared myself for this, and yet…” Her voice faded to a whisper.

  “You’ve raised her well.”

  She looked down at the hands clasped in her lap. “I wish I’d done more to treat her as one of my own.”

  Kai knelt at her feet. “You did your best. Ever since I brought her to you as a babe in arms, you’ve kept her hidden from those who would destroy her.”

  Aeleanor raised eyes shiny with tears. “She’ll return to danger at Torindan.”

  “You have my promise to protect her.” Each word fell from his lips by its own weight.

  “When do you leave?”

  He spoke with reluctance. “At first light.”

  She arose and took the place at the fire he had vacated, putting her arms about herself as if cold. “I will not say goodbye to her. It is better so.”

  Kai stood. For Shae’s sake, he wished his mother would look beyond her own needs. But he cut short the reply that rose to his lips. How could he censure her when he did not know her pain? He hesitated, and then lowered his voice. “Have you word of Daevin?”

  Mother lifted her head, and he read in her face what he should have already known. He need not have worried his question would quicken his mother’s pain. She carried her missing son in her heart as surely as she had once carried him within her womb.

  She shook her head and turned toward the fire. “None.”

  The word echoed through his mind. Kai shouldered its weight, but wished again for the freedom to search for his brother.

  He crossed to one of the tall windows overlooking the inner ward with its herb garden. New growth burgeoned in all its beds, ready to erupt with life. His hands clenched into fists. He wanted to rejoice in such things. He wanted to comfort his mother. He closed his eyes, shut in by his own dark thoughts.

  A touch on his arm, feather light, called him back. He turned and read the plea in his mother’s face. “The Lof Raelein’s death will free you to return to Whellein, as your father wishes.”

  He met her gray gaze and told her what she already knew. “My duty at Torindan calls for my pledge of service to Elcon when his mother dies.”

  “Surely Elcon would not rob the House of Whellein so.” She clasped her hands together so hard the knuckles showed white.

  “Mother, let us leave this conversation.” He put his hands over hers to still them. “You know I must decide my own course, for good or ill.”

  Tahera returned, bearing on a tray a tankard of steaming cider, a selection of cheeses, and a fragrant loaf. Kai cleansed his hands in the laver the servant provided and fell upon the repast.

  His mother sat silent while he ate. She would not try again to win his promise, but he knew she ceded the battle only.

  2

  Whellein Hold

  The heavy door groaned shut and Shae pressed against it while she caught her breath. The great hall stood empty, which was just as well. She should still be abed, waiting to be roused by her maid. Catching her breath, she watched dust motes float in bars of light slanting through the tall windows, which overlooked the inner bailey’s herb garden.

  Fresh rushes deadened her footfalls and sent up a warm scent overlaid with the pungent aromas of rosemary, mint, and lavender. Beneath a wide archway on one side of the chamber, Shae put her hand to the latch of a tall door carved with gryphons. She paused, caught by memory.

  Beyond that same door, she’d once greeted Lof Raelein Maeven in her parents’ absence. Maeven had at first seemed little older than Shae, but when the silver threading her copper hair gleamed in the candlelight, Shae saw that the transparency of her skin mimicked the tallow in the candlebranch beside her. Despite these ravages, Maeven’s arching brows, fine nostrils and vivid eyes commanded awe.

  As Maeven’s image dissipated, Shae lifted the latch. The door gave with a creak, and she entered the Allerstaed, the place of prayer. A musty scent, the smell of dust and disuse, emanated from wood and stone. Faint light followed her from the open doorway and a few indifferent sunbeams penetrated the grime coating three high windows above the altar. Her steps whispered across the graystone floors, and she sank to her knees onto the stone step below the altar.

  “I’ve come about Lof Raelein Maeven.” Her voice rang loud in the stillness. She said no more, for words tangled in her mind. But Lof Yuel read her heart. If only she might read his in return, she could know the Lof Raelein’s fate. Weak light ebbed and flowed over her as outside, clouds effaced the sun. Sorrow carried her in its current.

  “Why do you weep?” A voice reverberated through the chamber.

  Shae raised her head. She recognized this voice.

  An Elder youth crouched before her. She studied him, taking in his burnished skin, rounded somber eyes, and black hair. How could she have thought she knew his voice? She’d never seen him before. Her breath hitched. “Who are you?”

  Twin grooves in his cheeks deepened. “Don’t be frightened. I am but a wayfarer.”

  She stared at him. “No. You are more.”

  He smiled. “Your heart speaks truth. I am a wayfarer…and I am more.” He stroked the tears from her cheeks, feather-light, like the touch of a draft. “Peace.” The whispered word brought infinite comfort.

  Shae closed her eyes and breathed deep.

  “Remember, Shae, you must look to the light.”

  She opened her eyes, ready to ask how he knew her name.

  She knelt alone in the Allerstaed.

  What was this new vision? Perhaps prayer would show her its cause. Time stretched away, uncounted.

  “Shaenalyn!” A hard voice roused her.

  She sat up and pushed hair from her eyes. “Katera?”

  Her sister’s delicate face framed by long, pale hair peeked around the door. “I thought I might find you here.” Katera, resplendent in a tunic of yellow-dyed wool girded with links of gold, stepped into the chamber. “You should see yourself. You look like some spirit ready to fade if I blink.”

  “Hush!” Shae spoke with more vigor than she intended. She lowered her voice. “Don’t say such things in this place!”

  Katera made a face that failed to mar her loveliness. “You spend too much time in prayer. It has made you strange.”

  Dampness from the stone step chilled her, and Shae shivered. She stood on cramped feet and did her best to smooth her garments and hair. How she wished she better resembled her twin. Katera would never fall asleep on an altar step, see visions, or suffer the stirrings of a restless fate. She seemed made for marriage, motherhood, and the joys of a quiet life.

  Shae tried to stifle her envious thoughts. “Why do you seek me?”

  Katera stepped through the doorway. “Mo
ther sent me to find you. You must ready yourself for the evening meal.”

  She noticed that hunger gnawed her stomach. “Is it so late then?”

  Katera grinned. “You’ve been sleeping, have you? Such vigilance!”

  Shae’s face grew hot. “I rested little in the night. Exhaustion must have claimed me.”

  “Kai came early.” The statement made a question.

  “He did. Has he spoken to Father yet?”

  “I think not.” Her sister’s eyes narrowed. “What news had he to say to Father?”

  Shae shook her head and looked away. “Kai must give his own news.”

  ****

  Kai’s father, Shraen Eberhardt set his hands on the table in his meeting room and pushed to his feet. “You bring news of sorrow, but also, dare I say, of hope for Whellein.” Father brushed past Kai as he paced a well-worn path between table, fire, and window.

  Kai did not flinch, but such words grated against his grief for Maeven. He remained silent, for he did not wish to discuss his father’s hopes now.

  Father paused on his circuit to seat himself once more at the strongwood slab that dominated the chamber and dwarfed them both. He spoke, so low Kai leaned forward to hear. “I’ve had word of Daevin.”

  Kai held his breath as he waited for whatever news would come.

  Father put his hands on the wooden surface before him. A groove beside his mouth deepened. “His ship… The wreckers...”

  Kai sat forward. “What are you saying, Father?”

  Father pushed off the table again and went to stand by the fire. “You have heard of Muer Maeread?”

  Kai nodded. He knew the Coast of Bones as a place of dangerous currents and wild, subsisting Elder.

  “The western shore to the north of Elderland has but poor land—sand dunes and salt marshes. The Elder there wrest a hard living from the sea, so hard it is said they rejoice when a ship breaks against the rocks offshore, for salvage rights belong to them. Some even say they guide ships into the shoals with false lights. If any survivors wash ashore, they do not live long…”

  Kai jumped to his feet. “But Daevin’s ship should not have been anywhere near Muer Maeread!”

  Father inclined his head. “The Kestrel journeyed west, but a storm blew it off course. Clouds obscured the stars and made it impossible to navigate. When lights appeared against the shoreline, the ship turned toward them. The captain must have thought they returned to harbor. By the time he knew his mistake, he had no time to turn back.”

  Kai joined his father before the fire, although it warmed him little. “How do you know these things?”

  “The Sea Wanderer almost succumbed to the same fate. Its captain answered my inquiries. He witnessed the shipwreck.”

  “Could he not have given you falsehoods to gain a reward?”

  “He asked nothing in exchange.” Father spread his hands. “He brought proof.”

  “Proof?”

  Father stood before the window’s velvet hangings. “When the storm relented, Captain Ivan, at his own peril, returned to the site of the wreck to search for survivors. The Kestrel’s fate would have belonged to his own ship had the other not foundered first and thus warned them of the shoals. The crew members he sent to comb the waters found none alive.” He crossed the chamber to reach above the high marble mantle. “They fished this from the sea.” Puffing a little with effort, he brought down a rough plank. “I’ve hidden it from your mother until I can bring myself to show it to her.”

  Kai received the plank, the rough wood biting into his hands. Ornate letters of scarlet spelled out “Kestrel.” He shook his head. “This can mean nothing—or everything.”

  “I have confirmed its authenticity.” In a sudden movement, Father slammed a fist into the palm of his other hand. The veins on his neck stood out. “Would that I had not allowed Daevin to go!”

  “You did right, Father. Daevin longed for adventure and felt suffocated by duty. Had you not given your blessing, he might well have gone without it.” Kai looked at his empty hands in puzzlement. His father must have taken the plank away, but he had not felt its weight lift. “When will you tell Mother?”

  Father returned the plank to its hiding place above the mantle. “When the time is right. She has sorrow enough with Shae leaving. I tell you, Kai, so you will know your place as Whellein’s only remaining son. I grow old and have need of an heir. Will you give your promise to attend such duties here at Whellein when the Lof Raelein’s death releases you?”

  Kai gazed into the fire, thus avoiding his father’s searching gaze. A part of him wanted—longed—to make such a promise. He could rule and reign at Whellein rather than live the life of a second son in service. He ached to please his father, to help him shoulder his burdens. Besides, if none took up an heir’s duties, Whellein could vanish as a separate entity at his father’s death. His ancestral lands would pass to Kai’s older sister, Ilse, and her husband, Aelfred, of neighboring Merboth.

  But Kai could not bring himself to speak. Loyalty to Lof Raelein Maeven and the House of Rivenn held him fast. He had dwelt within the embrace of Torindan since his early life. As personal guard to the Lof Raelein, he was expected to swear his oath of fealty to her son at Maeven’s death. Kai could not, with ease, turn his back on such duties. Besides these things, something indefinable kept him silent—a sense of destiny— the simple understanding that a different fate awaited him.

  “You will not?”

  Kai shook his head and met his father’s silver gaze. “I can not,” he corrected, helpless in the knowledge his father would not understand, and that he could do nothing to ease his pain. He looked into the flames, watching them flicker and flare.

  Footfalls sounded. The door whined and then thudded shut.

  ****

  Shae waited in the shadow beyond the torchlight. The door to her father’s meeting room stood ajar, perhaps to release heat from the fearsome fire that blazed in the hearth. Light surged about the room in time to the leaping flames. It reached across polished floors, peeped into forgotten corners, and made ancient tapestries jump with life.

  Kai was sprawled on the bench opposite the fire, and his fair head rested against embroidered cushions. Firelight played over his features, softening them. Shae itched to smooth the creases from his brow, but she curled her fingers into her palms instead. He would not welcome pity.

  She knew a swift grief for the carefree youth who had taught her the ballads of her people. More than once, he had kept her at his knee long after her bedtime as he spun tales of Torindan, High Hold of Faeraven. Shae sighed. She hardly recognized her brother in the weary sojourner before her.

  She stepped into the light. “You summoned me?”

  He nodded but did not turn his head.

  “Are you not well?”

  Kai gave a weak smile. “I require extra warmth to cure me of the cold, but I do not ail.”

  “You should perhaps have slept longer.” She reproved him in gentle tones. “You give yourself little time to recover before journeying again.”

  “You are right, of course.” He shrugged. “I leave at first light.”

  She gave him a searching look. “I don’t understand. Why did you come with such urgency only to leave so soon? Surely any messenger could have brought news to Whellein of the Lof Raelein’s illness.”

  Kai made no response. His eyes shut, and he went still so long she thought he slept. She crept away but his voice halted her at the door. “Do you remember how we used to sit together before the fire and search for the blue hearts in the flames, and afterwards imagine shapes in the coals?”

  “I remember.”

  A smile stretched his lips. “Life seemed easy then.” He opened eyes of deep gray touched with silver. “You are right. I didn’t come to bring news of Lof Raelein Maeven. I came for you, Shae, to take you with me to Torindan.”

  She stared at him. “Why should you take me with you?”

  “The Lof Raelein bids it.”

>   “But I don’t understand. Why me? Does Mother know of this? I’ll miss Katera’s wedding! What will Father say?”

  “Mother knows, and Father agrees you must go. Even now, your maid packs a few things for the journey. Torindan will provide whatever else you need. You must travel with me on my wingabeast. I would not ask such a thing of you, but time presses.” He hesitated. “You will come, won’t you?”

  The thought stole her breath, and she put a hand to her stomach to comfort its churning. She wanted to say no, to withdraw into the shadows and hide from the unknown threat that seemed to reach for her.

  And yet…she’d never traveled far from Whellein. What would it be like to visit Torindan? Would she find more freedom there?

  “Why do you ask when the Lof Raelein bids me? What choice do I have?”

  He gave her a level look. “Shae, she would have you answer her summons of your own will.”

  She blinked away tears. “How can I deny her anything? I will come.” As she spoke a strange awareness twisted through her, and she saw again, in her mind’s eye, the welke drop upon the wingen.

  3

  Flight

  The shadow of a hand suspending a comb above Shae’s head stood in relief against the whitewashed wall of her chamber. She waited, but when the tug of the comb in her hair did not come, she glanced over her shoulder at her maid.

  Lyse stood motionless, her pale gray eyes unfocused. “Danger waits for you.”

  Shae’s mouth went dry. “What is it?”

  Lyse gave a faint shake of her fair head. “It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes I…sense things to come.”

  Shae stared at her. “Yes.”

  “Whispers from Lof Yuel.”

  “Tell me.”

  “An old evil seeks you.” With a hand at Shae’s shoulders, Lyse turned Shae to face her. “Must you go to Torindan?”

  “How can I refuse my Lof Raelein’s deathbed summons? That would be worse than ill-mannered, and I’d always regret disappointing Maeven.”

  “But if you go with Kai, you may not live long enough for regrets.” Lyse stroked the brush through Shae’s hair.