Andre Norton - Gryphon's Eyrie

It was an effort to wrench my eyes from that contact. I turned, found Valona sitting beside me, smiling shyly. “Valona, who is that?”

She turned, scanned the crowd obediently. “Which one, Cera?”

“That one—” I moved to point, but the tent’s shadow was empty. “She was there a moment ago… a woman, wearing a dark cloak.”

“With eyes that keep everything inside?”

“Yes. Who is she?”

“Nidu, the Shaman.” The child moved a little closer to me. “She has great Power…”

I thought of that dark, gaunt face and could well believe the child’s words.

There came a soft tread behind me, then the Chiefs voice. “You and your lord must be weary, Cera. I will show you to the guesting-tent.”

We followed her to the large tent where we had washed earlier. The Kioga tents were woven of horsehair, with differing designs stitched upon them using thin strands of braided, dyed horsehair. A patterned blanket divided the sleeping area from the rest of the tent. Jonka gestured to an ewer of water and a towel sitting on a heavily carved chest. Beside it was a wicker-seated stool and, resting on the stool, a clean nightshirt.

“Traveling is wearying, Cera, and it is hard to pack all one could wish for upon one’s back. I hope this will do well enough. We are almost of a height, but I am somewhat the broader!”

“It’s beautiful,” I said, my hands caressing the thin, finely woven linen embroidered with delicate, pale stitches. “I thank you, Jonka.”

She motioned upward toward the top of the tent. “It is our custom to open the top of our homes in good weather so we may see the Mare as she rises. But if you prefer, I (..m pull the flap to—”

“I am used to seeing the stars as I lie abed, Jonka. Open will be fine.”

“I bid you a good night and fair rising, then, Cera.”

“And to you, Jonka. Thank you again.”

Kerovan echoed my good night, lifting the blanket, then disappeared into the sleeping area. I washed again, then slipped the nightshirt over my head. Jonka had the right of it, it was too loose, but my hands lingered over the thin fabric and the beauty of the stitchery as I tied the bodice-lacings. It had been long since I had worn women’s dress, and the feel of the skirt was pleasant as I shook my hair loose, began to brush it.

Overhead the moon shone only a day away from fullness, its light silvering the tent into sharp contrasts of dark and light after I snuffed the candle on the low table.

The moon… the light…

My eyes were drawn upward, fixing on the sign of Gunnora hanging in the sky—uncounted distance away, hut seeming to me now, at this moment, almost within fingertip range.

The moon… the light…

I found that I was standing, arms and legs apart, my head thrown back, my whole being seeking, reaching for that light and what it betokened. On my breast was again a warmth, and loosing the laces of the nightshirt, I found my amulet once more glowing.

It was as though that symbol drew to it all the light of the moon, changing and reflecting back that glow in amber radiance. In me there came a stirring, a touch of something I could understand only dimly with my mind, but which my body responded to as ancient and ageless fate…

I was moving, my steps taking me toward the sleeping area. The dividing blanket rasped my nails as I pulled it aside. Kerovan lay curled on the pallet, dark head resting on one outstretched arm. At my tread his eyes opened, widened.

“Joisan—the light—”

My fingers touched his lips, quieting him. His hand came up to circle my wrist, as his mouth pressed a kiss ’gainst my palm. “Joisan…” My name was a spoken caress, while a whispered echo filled my mind. His touch was as light as the whisper of wings upon my body, but this time he was truly himself, and there was nothing held back—no hesitation or fear to separate us. I found myself freed, also, by his warmth—free to give and take as never before… free to share…

Filled, consumed by that uniting, that sharing, we fell at length into exhausted slumber.

Bright sunlight woke me from sleep so deep it was naught but a dark, dreamless void. For long moments I lay blinking at strange surroundings, unable to recall where I was or how I had come there. My eyes fastened on the bright blue of the blanket curtaining the sleeping area from the rest of the tent, its curving lines of white reminding me suddenly of swirling waves upon the sea… As though that pattern suddenly anchored me to the past, memory surged back.

The Kioga… Obred, Jonka, and that strange dark woman Nidu… was it only yesterday we had come here, been welcomed with such joyful celebration? And then, last night… I turned cautiously onto my side, careful not to wake her, and regarded Joisan.

She slept deeply still, russet hair thick-locked about her face and over her shoulders and breast, the sunlight awakening gold among the reddish-brown strands. Around her neck she still wore the amulet that had glowed amber to the beat of her heart—it seemed for a moment that I could again feel that talisman’s warmth against my own chest.

I reached for her, longing to feel her skin beneath my fingers, then stopped, chary of waking her. Yesterday had been a day to tire the strongest, and she doubtless needed her sleep. Yet a selfish portion of me continued to wish she would wake. I wanted to experience again her arms about me… her kisses, warm and yielding, then by turns demanding… I wanted—

Joisan’s eyes opened, then she smiled sleepily, moving to brush .hair out of her eyes. “As Jonka would say, fair rising, my lord.”

“Looking upon my lady is the fairest part of my waking,” I said hesitantly, almost afraid to meet her eyes and see laughter in them. I knew so little of courtly ways that pretty speeches—even when meant wholeheartedly—came awkwardly to me.

Her hand moved to brush my hair, touch my cheek. Mindsharing, I knew she understood my words, felt her appreciation of them. I turned to touch her, gathered her close, eager for—

“Lord Kerovan!” Someone scratched at the tent flap outside. “I would not disturb you, save that our morning meal is ready, and the mounts saddled. We must break our fast and ride.” Obred’s voice sounded embarrassed as he finished, “I know it is but poor manners to call a guest, but it is nigh unto noon, and we have far to go.”

I sighed deeply, rolling onto my back, away from Joisan. Trying to mask the irritation I felt, I made quick answer. “A fine scout I am, sleeping the day away! I will be with you directly, Obred. Thank you for calling me.”

Joisan managed to look both amused and disappointed. “Who are you to think you have no courtly ways, my husband? I have seldom heard rank falsehood voiced in such a semblance of truth.”

“I would stay instead with you, Joisan… today, and tomorrow, and the next…” Again I reached for her. But she was already rising, shaking her head.

“ ‘Promises made lightly are still promises to be held to,’ ” she quoted, her smile holding more than a little of devilment about it.

Crumbling, I made ready for the day.

When we had broken our fast, Obred turned to me. “Now we must see you mounted, Kerovan. Come with me to the Unchosen herd.”

We walked quickly over the level plain, threading our way between the tents of the Kioga. In the daylight I could see that they were mostly dark brown, or black, with one or two (including the one that had been ours) dyed indigo. Each had a different design upon its flap. Small children ran by us in a group, playing some game. Older ones passed, carrying baskets filled with linen to be washed, wild grain to be ground, or younger brothers and sisters they tended. All smiled in greeting.