Elizabeth Haydon - Rhapsody - Child of Blood

“Yes, but I need to sit down for a moment.”

Gwydion took hold of her other hand and helped her to the ground, then sank worriedly down beside her. “Emily, what’s wrong?”

She gave him a reassuring smile. “Nothing is wrong, Sam. I just need to rest a minute.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, anything.”

“How old are you?”

“Fourteen. How old are you?”

She thought for a moment. “What time do you think it is?”

“About eleven o’clock, I would say.”

“Then I’m thirteen.”

Gwydion looked at her, puzzled. “Why does the time matter?”

“Because in an hour I’ll be fourteen, too, like you.”

Now he understood. “It’s your birthday?”

“Well, tomorrow.”

He pulled her into his arms. “Happy birthday, Emily.”

“Thank you.” She grew very excited. “Wait; I have an idea! Do you want to come to supper tomorrow?”

Gwydion hugged her tighter. “That would be wonderful.”

She pushed out of his embrace, and he smiled at the eagerness on her face. “You can meet my parents and my brothers. Maybe if my father sees how happy I am with you he will give his consent.”

“What time?”

“Why don’t you come about five—we eat at six.”

He looked down at his dusty clothes regretfully. “This is all I have to wear, I’m afraid.”

Emily touched the material of his shirt. It was woven of a fabric finer than she had ever seen before, and the craftsmanship of all the garments was superior to even the needlework of the best seamstresses in the village. “This is fine,” she said simply. “I’ll show you my house on the way past.”

Gwydion was rummaging around in his pockets. He pulled out his pouch, and looked inside it. There was nothing that would make a suitable gift, and he doubted there would be any merchant in the village from which to purchase one. He took out the five gold coins he had brought with him on his way to the market, and put them in her hand.

“This is all I have; it’s not much of a gift, but I want you to have something from me tonight.” Tomorrow he would search the pasturelands for the most beautiful flowers he could find.

Emily’s eyes widened in amazement, and a look of horror came over her face.

“I can’t take this, Sam—this is as much as half my dowry.” She turned one of the coins over and stared at it. The face minted on it was that of the prince of Roland, a land that would not exist for another seven centuries. She took his hand and opened the palm, returning the coins. “Besides, if I come home with that, my parents will think I’ve been doing something terribly wrong.”

His face flared crimson in understanding. Then a different thought occurred to him. He rummaged in the pouch again, and pulled out another coin, copper this time. It was small and oddly shaped, with thirteen sides, and he opened her hand and put it in. Then he pulled out another just like it.

“As far as I know, there are only two of these in all the world. They have no real value other than that, but they’re very special to me. I can’t think of anyone better to give one to.”

She examined the coin for a moment; then she smiled and drew him close. “Thank you, Sam; I’ll treasure it. Now, we better get going.”

He helped her stand and brushed the loose grass off the back of her velvet dress. “I wish I had a better gift for you.” They began to walk down the hill leading to the village and the meeting hall.

“You couldn’t give me a better gift than what you’ve given me tonight. You came here from far away in answer to my wish. Who could ask for more than that?”

He put his arm around her. “But it’s your birthday.”

“Do you really want to give me something special?”

“More than anything.”

She smiled, and slid out from under his arm, taking his hand instead. “Tell me about the places you’ve been, the wonderful things that you’ve seen,” she said, her eyes gleaming in excitement. “Talk to me about where we will go, what we will see someday.”

“Well, since you’ve never seen the ocean, we could begin with the tall ships that will carry us across the wide Central Sea.”

He told her of the masts and the riggings and the woven net beds called hammocks that the sailors slept in, of the great port of Kesel Tai, where ships from around the world sought the trade and wisdom of the Sea Mages. He told her of Port Fallon on the shores of his own lands, where a great lighthouse stood a hundred feet tall, illuminating the way for lost mariners. And lastly he told her of the Lirin port of Tallono, whose exposed bay had been turned from an open mooring to a sheltering harbor with the aid of a woman who held the wisdom and power of dragons.

Emily listened in rapt excitement, drinking in his words. She broke loose from her reverie long enough to show him her family’s farm. It was the large one he had seen from the summit of the first hill. Warm carriage lights burned out in front of the pasture gate in welcome.

There was so much Gwydion would have told her—of the river so cold and wide in some places that its opposite bank could barely be seen through the heavy morning mist, the river that led up to the Lands of the Gorllewinolo Lirin, where she could meet many of her mother’s people, and even as half-caste she would be welcomed.

He would have told her of the Oracle of Yarim, with its mad prophetess, and of the great city of Sepulvarta, where the priests held their temples and the people were ruled by the Patriarch. And he most certainly would have told her of the Great White Tree, but before he could they were back in the village, approaching the entrance of the meeting hall. He promised himself, as their steps slowed, that one day he would show her all the things he knew she wanted to see.

When they came to the place he had found her hiding, she turned quickly to him as a thought occurred to her. “Do we have a patronymic? A family name?”

Gwydion felt a shiver of delight pass through him at the thought of her sharing it, but was at a loss to explain the nomenclature to her. “Yes, sort of. It’s complicated. And my name is different as well. You see, the way—”

“Emmy, there you are! Where the blazes have you been? Justin is here, and he’s looking everywhere for you, as are a few other people.” Ben’s voice was filled with relief as well as anger.

Emily ignored the question, pulling Gwydion over to where her brother stood. “Hello, Ben. Did you enjoy the dance? This is Sam; Sam, this is my brother Ben.”

Gwydion put out his hand, and Ben looked at him for a second, shifting his focus. He shook Gwydion’s hand, then turned to Emily again. “You’re going to catch it when Father finds out.”

“Finds out what?”

“That you didn’t go to the dance.”

“I most certainly did go to the dance, and I had a wonderful time.”

Ben was turning red with annoyance. “You didn’t dance once, Emmy. There are an awful lot of upset fellows in there.”

Emily started to laugh. “I did so dance, just not inside. You even saw me. Let it go, Ben; I had a lovely evening.”

“Emmy?” The new voice was deeper, and Gwydion turned to see a much older youth hurrying toward them. He also had dark hair, and he was a head taller than Emily. She ran to meet him and he lifted her off the ground in a wide embrace.

“Happy Birthday, Ugly,” he said affectionately, kissing her cheek. “Did you have fun? Was the dance nice?”

“The best ever,” she answered, grinning. She introduced her oldest brother, Justin, to Gwydion as well, and he walked with them to the wagon Justin had brought to drive her home in.

As her brothers hitched the horses, Emily turned to him again. “Thank you, Sam,” she said softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”