Andre Norton - Gryphon's Eyrie

“It will.”

Stretching forth his hand, the boy held steady as Nidu moved the knife across his right wrist, the blade flashing quicksilver. Crimson flowed, dripping with a faint spattering upon the ancient horsehide, mixing with the red trails left by the previous candidates.

Nidu began to chant, her fingernails tapping upon the small drum swinging from her belt. Her sable sleeves flapped in the evening breeze, seeming suddenly to resemble huge wings. I remembered Obred’s description of the harpy, then shivered as the Shaman’s eyes met mine, almost as though she could mindshare.

Just then Jonka stepped forward, pressed a clean pad of linen to Guret’s wrist, then embraced the young man. “Be welcomed, then! May the Mother of Mares favor you with wisdom in our Council!”

Cheers rose from the crowd surrounding us, and hastily I broke that eye-bond with Nidu to join the well-wishers. Minutes later we were seated on the ground, Kioga-fashion, enjoying a meal that completely erased from my mind the boring sameness of trail rations.

Joisan, freshly garbed in a linen dress that laced across the bodice and was brightened with many-colored embroidery, sat beside me. Her hair hung loose down her back, after the fashion of a maid. Watching her over the rim of my wine goblet, I thought that I had never seen her look more desirable. Even as I gazed so at her, she raised her eyes to meet mine, unsettling me further as I realized she was again mindsharing… that she knew my thoughts were of her, knew also the nature of those thoughts…

It was hard to tell which warmed me more, her answering smile or the wine. Even as I thought of pleading tiredness after the long scout as excuse to retire, Jonka rose to her feet. The Chieftain’s face bore a cold, impersonal mask in place of her usual good-natured expression, and watching her, I remembered suddenly Nidu’s demand for a Drummer. She raised a hand for quiet, and the noisy, chattering crowd immediately stilled.

“Tonight is a night of celebration for us, but even in the midst of our festivities we must not forget our duty. Tonight Nidu has requested that we select for her a Drummer of Shadows to serve her in her service to us. Will all of the Chosen between the ages of fifteen and nineteen, who are unwed, stand, please.”

The torches cast flickers of yellow-red across the somber faces of the young men and women. Aided by Obred, Jonka moved about the crowd, handing each a strip of dressed skin. After every candidate had marked his or her name, she said, they were to fold their strip and drop it into the basket in the center of the clearing.

Nidu herself stepped forward when this was accomplished, her bony wrist and thin fingers doubly light .gainst the dark of her garment. Closing her eyes, the Shaman thrust her arm into the basket, fingers searching, searching…

My heart seemed to labor within me as my ears listened ID the faint scrabbling sounds those stirring fingers madewithin the wicker hollow. A pressure began within my head, as though a thundering sound awoke, just outside (lie range of my ears—there, distinct, and yet not there at all. I felt that I must stop what was happening, must cry must, must—

Nidu withdrew her hand, her lips stretching into a triumphant smile. Deliberately the Shaman unfolded the strip she had drawn, but her eyes remained fixed on the assembled Kioga.

“Guret is the Drummer of Shadows, under the law of the Council. Guret, son of Anga, son of Cleon.”

“No! My lips moved soundlessly. It was as if a wind of the Shadow had lightly scored my cheek. There was a babble surrounding me, some of it relieved, some excited, some upset.

Numb, I felt Joisan’s hand on my arm, her fingers trembling. “Come, Kerovan. There is nothing we can do about this tonight. Tomorrow we will talk with Jonka, see what can be done.”

Shaken, I let her lead me away from the firelight, back into the shadows. “I must see Guret—talk with him. There is a way to change what has happened… there must be!”

“There is.” At my quick glance, she nodded. I could barely see her face, pale against the darkness of the tents surrounding us, but her voice held conviction. “Terlys told me this afternoon that if a candidate chooses not to accept the selection, another is made by lot.”

“But?” I asked, for her tone also made me sure such a decision carried its own penalty.

“It is considered a shameful thing to refuse. If he does so, Guret could well be shunned by his people for a long time.”

“Better that , than Nidu’s service—I mislike that woman. She witched the drawing!” I was positive I spoke truth.

“I agree. Tomorrow we can talk with Jonka and the boy.”

“Yes.” An idea was beginning to shape itself in my mind, curling tantalizingly just out of reach… I yawned suddenly, feeling fatigue settle upon my shoulders like the weight of mail after battle. Tomorrow… tomorrow I would be able to think clearly once more.

Once inside our tent, I made haste to seek the sleeping pallet. I must have dozed, but awoke when Joisan also lay down. My hand went out in the moonlight to brush her cheek, just as hers had done mine earlier. “I am glad to be home, Joisan. I missed you… very much.” As always, my words came awkwardly. Why could I never use with my lady the endearments other husbands voiced? Few indeed had been the times I had been able to even think—much lest say—“I love you,” for always it had seemed to me that every time I acknowledged any feeling for another—Riwal, Jago, my father—that person vanished from my life as irrevocably as though my words doomed them…

“I thought of you every day, every hour.” Her whisper came softly in the night. “I asked Gunnora to let you come back to me, and the Amber Lady has answered my plea, for which I give all the thanks that are in me.”

The moon, waxing three-quarters-full, shone through the open tent flap above us, revealing her face, the dark rumble of her hair, the lacings of the nightshirt she wore. Shadows touched her, as revealing in their way as the silver moonglow, bringing to life the slight hollowing of her cheek, the fullness of her breasts beneath the shift… a fullness that seemed new to me, arousing…

My hand trembled slightly as I touched her cheek again, and I cast about for words to answer her. “Perhaps it was the Harvest Lady, then, who helped me in the river, or with the well. But Joisan, you said that things had also happened to you while I was gone. What passed?”

She hesitated for a long moment, then, as I gently moved my hand upon her shoulder, she spoke, her voice a little breathless. “We agreed, my lord. No problems from the outside world tonight. Tonight shall be ours alone.”

“But—

“Just we two, this night. Not Guret, nor Nidu, nor… any other…”

Her lips were soft on mine, gentle with a promise that routed any further arguments, any further thoughts… leaving only room for touches, for feelings…

At length I slept, dreamlessly, sinking into a vault of sleep so deep it had seemed I lay buried beneath a mountain that was nothing but my heavy, slumbering body.

I dreamed not, yet even as I slept, I felt something creeping upon me, insidious yet known, possessing me… It was like the aching of one’s head after too much wine or an injury, a dull pain that one is conscious of even as one slumbers, yet the sleeper is too tired to rouse and experience that discomfort fully…

Sunlight lay warm upon my face, rousing me to complete awareness. I lay partly off the pallet, sword in hand, the blade half-drawn from the sheath, the time- and palm-worn grip smooth beneath my hand. A groan I could not suppress forced itself from my lips as I recognized the measure of that ache within me.