Elizabeth Haydon - Destiny - Child of the Sky

“Yes, but then you must name the children for whom you are going to sit.”

Rhapsody extended her finger and touched the first candle. “Aria,” she said softly. The flame sparked to life between her thumb and forefinger, snapping for a moment, then glowed on the wick. She moved to the next candle. “Mikita,” she said, lighting the second taper. She turned back around to face the Lady, who nodded approvingly.

“You should lie down here now, child. I will give you such herbs as I can to ease your pain, but I should warn you: I gave them to the gladiator before the procedure as well. I must tell my assistants to retrieve those two children.”

Rhapsody reached into the box and pulled two more tapers forth, setting next to the lighted ones. She touched the first one. “Jecen,” she said as the candle began to glow. “Aric.”

The Lady Rowan reached out and seized her wrist. “What are you doing, child?”

“You said it would not harm me physically, that I am just agreeing to take their pain.”

“Yes, but—”

Rhapsody pulled her hand away and lit two more tapers. “Ellis. Anya.” She looked back at the Lady. “How can I possibly choose? Having to let even one of them go through agony like that would be the same as experiencing it myself anyway.”

“Don’t underestimate the combined effects, child. Your heart may be willing, but your body will be racked. You are still healing from the effects of the exposure on your journey here; I don’t think you understand what you’re doing.”

Two more flames appeared. “Marl. Vincane.” She smiled at the Lady Rowan. “No doubt, but I have nothing better to do while I’m here. Besides, which of their mothers wouldn’t have agreed to do so? They aren’t here, so someone has to.”

“But you are not any of these children’s mother.”

Rhapsody’s eyes glowed in the light of the brightening room. “Quan Li.” She looked up. “No,” she said, smiling. “I’m their grandmother. I have much to atone for in my life. Perhaps this will serve as a beginning.” The last candle sparked to life.

“Constantin,” she said.

The sound of merry shrieking filled the sleepy glen. Rhapsody smiled as the children charged her, swarming like excited bees, clamoring for her attention and talking excitedly all at once. She put her hands over her ears.

“Goodness, calm yourselves,” she said, laughing. “I’ll go deaf.” She closed the door of her hut behind her and walked out into the light of late morning, dressed in her clothes for playing with them and carrying a burlap sack. Eight of the children were there, with the eldest and youngest absent. Her goal today was to learn more about their individual needs for education, both physical and intellectual. To that end she had been up most of the night making toys to test their agility. They were playthings of Lirin design, known to the Liringlas as anklesingers. She took one out of the pack now.

“Here, I have something for you.” Rhapsody held out the anklesinger and the children crowded around, eager to examine it. It was crudely made, but smooth, and delighted voices rang through the forest as it was passed from child to child.

“How does it work, Rhapsody?”

“Give it to me and I’ll show you.” She took it back and held it up for them to see. It consisted of two wooden rings joined by a length of twine, one of which was hollow and pierced by small holes. Rhapsody sat on the grass and extended a leg, slipping her ankle through the solid ring. Then she stood.

“All right, move back, lads and lasses, and I’ll give it a try. I haven’t done this since I was little.”

“You still are little,” said Vincane. Now that he was within the realm of the Rowans he had lost much of the sharp look and streetwise nature that had made him such an adversary in the world beyond the Veil of Hoen. Now he just appeared to be a boy on the threshold of adolescence, taller than she and full-bodied; Rhapsody laughed at the look of insolent mischief on his face.

“Very well, I haven’t done this since I was young . And Vincane, don’t confuse ‘big’ with ‘tough.’ If you want, I’ll show you what I mean later. We can go another round as we did in the tile foundry, if you’d like.”

“No, thank you,” said the boy hastily. Rhapsody smiled; she knew he had hidden and watched her training that morning.

“This is how it works,” she said. She hopped over the string and swung the ring around her ankle in a circular motion, jumping over the twine each time it came around. After a few rotations it was humming smoothly around her foot, and she was leaping over the cord with each pass. The second ring began to vibrate, then whistle, finally producing a clear, sweet tone. The children laughed and clapped, clamoring for a turn.

“Here, don’t grab, I have one for each of you.” Rhapsody let the ankle-singer come to a halt. She pulled it from her foot and handed it to Jecen, who squealed in glee. Rhapsody turned and went back to the burlap sack, bringing out a handful of the toys. She dispensed them to the clutching hands and stepped back, watching in interest as the children put them on and tried to make them work. Some were more nimble than others, and it was a good measure of their agility; Rhapsody made note of each child’s ability, devising a mental plan to train the competent children and work with the more clumsy ones specially.

“You’ll find your names carved on them,” she told them when they grew tired and came to a stop. “Each one makes a different musical note, and once you get used to them you can play songs if you work together. Now, I can hear Cyndra calling you; it must be time for noonmeal.” Happy shrieking echoed through the drowsy glade again, and in a flurry of kisses and hugs the children were off, leaving Rhapsody alone, smiling and breathless.

She rose and, brushing the leaves and dirt from her trousers, walked back toward the white buildings where the children were cared for, listening for birdsong as she went. Behind some trees not far away she felt an alien vibration and concentrated on it; she recognized the signature—it was Constantin. He had been watching her with the children, and now was following close behind her.

Rhapsody did not change her pace, but continued toward the compound. She felt him adjust his path to intersect with hers, and kept walking, a strange sense of security washing over her. As she reached the edge of the woods he stepped in front of her, cutting her off from her destination.

He had recovered from the ordeal, and appeared in fit condition and good health, though somewhat thinner. The gladiator was clothed in a white cambric shirt and pants, and as he interposed his body into her path, Rhapsody stopped reluctantly.

Constantin’s arm came to rest pointedly on the tree before her, blocking her egress, and he stared down at her with a piercing look that made the small hairs on the back of her neck tingle. She returned his stare placidly, without any aggression or fear, and waited to hear what he had to say.

Moments passed, and still he did not speak, but watched her with an intense stare. At the edge of her vision Rhapsody saw a slight movement, and, turning her head, she noticed the Lord Rowan leaning against a tree, ob serving their interaction. She exhaled, relief filling her lungs. Unlike the night before, the robes he wore seemed to be of forest green, as if he had more substance than when she had first seen him. Finally she spoke.

“What is it, Constantin? What do you want?”

He glared at her a moment more, then finally spoke. “You.”

“Excuse me?”

“I should have you,” he said, his voice low but unpleasant. “You tricked me; and you owe me. I should have you.”