Robin McKinley - Pegasus

The baffling thing to Sylvi was the way the thought of the Caves grew on her—the Caves which, the first time she had asked Ebon about them, he had told her were not a human sort of thing. The Caves where Ebon would some day sculpt some sky view of the landscape around the palace, despite some of the pegasi protesting that the Caves were not for human things. The Caves where the pegasi ssshasssha was held. The Caves where no human had ever set foot.

She could forget taralians and norindours and their night flights’ newly restricted scope; she could forget how often her mother wasn’t home, and the deepening shadow on her father’s face. She could—sometimes—even forget Fthoom. But lying along Ebon’s back with the great sweep of his wings framing her, peering through the lash of his mane, the one thought that could take her away from the present moment was the thought of the Caves. She longed to see them—she didn’t know why. She guessed perhaps it had begun with listening to him humming his lessons, listening to his stories about the histories on the Cave walls. She thought it might also have to do with his feather-hands on her temples saying the polishing-chant, and the vision that had bloomed behind her eyelids: a curiosity—no, a longing—to try and comprehend ssshasssha.

Ebon had described his favourite bits of the Caves to her till she felt she could almost see them herself—but only almost. She wanted to stretch out her own hand and stroke the silky surfaces which generations of tiny alula-hands and their light tools had smoothed to a perfection that rougher, stronger human hands could not emulate. But the Caves were far more than half a night’s flight away; nor would it have been possible to enter the Caves without being discovered. There was always someone at the various entrances—

Oh! said Sylvi. You have guards? Who would want to damage your Caves? They are far inside your country, are they not? Where no one goes but you? And you’ve said taralians and norindours don’t like the mountains—

Ebon stared at her. Damage? There’s a rite-fire kept burning at the three main entrances, and anyone who isn’t familiar with the Caves needs a guide, even near the entrances. And unless you’re a sculptor, you have to go with a shaman.

No guards. Sylvi thought—briefly—of a life, of a location, without guards. It made her longing for the Caves even greater.

At certain seasons, for certain ceremonies, most of the pegasi come there, over a few days or weeks at a time, mostly, the main entrance has a monster hall just inside but it’s still not big enough for all of us at once. But at any time of the day or year—there are always a few pegasi, sculptors and visitors. You can go for hours without seeing anybody, or sometimes there’s someone in every room, round every corner, shaping every bump in every wall, Ebon said.

Sylvi dreamed about the Caves sometimes, and sometimes, on dark nights with no moon or stars, she imagined that they were flying through huge Caves. It was on those nights that the wind most seemed to whisper words in her ears, words she could almost understand.

Ebon had been gone for nearly a fortnight; the days were almost endless without him, despite all the work she found herself doing, and the hours in the practise yards. Lucretia was an excellent sparring partner, and didn’t knock her down—or off her pony—nearly as often as she could: “Naah,” she replied, when Sylvi said as much. “What’s the point of that? Interrupts the flow of a good practise session.” Lucretia had also, however, complimented her on her falling off. “You wouldn’t like to try and teach me how you do that, would you?” she said.

Sylvi blinked at her and after a moment said,“I’d have to figure out how I do it.”

“It’ll be good practise for both of us,” said Lucretia.

A group of pegasi had only just arrived at the palace that morning—including Lrrianay and Ebon. A messenger had come to her study to report this fact, and afterward she’d had trouble keeping her mind on her work. Finally she gave it up as a bad job and fled outdoors, knowing that Ebon would come looking for her as soon as he could, knowing where he’d look first. She was sitting under a tree, trying to pretend that she wasn’t facing the way she was facing because that was the direction Ebon was likeliest to be coming from. It was too cold to be sitting down outdoors doing nothing, so she stood up and paced, looking over her shoulder.... There he was: dazzling black, graceful as a bard’s song, her pegasus, her best friend.

I’ve got a birthday present for you, Ebon said gleefully—it was months before the day. I have gota birthday present for you.

Well, don’t tell me now, Sylvi said, surprised at his eagerness. It’s not till forever.

The pegasi didn’t celebrate birthdays the way humans did, but they did attend human birthday parties with their usual aplomb—and brought gifts. Last year she and Ebon had gone to Orthumber for her birthday, with the queen and Hirishy, and Sylvi had had the pleasure of showing Ebon where her mother had grown up and the excuse to ask her all sorts of impertinent questions because she was asking for Ebon too, who didn’t know about human childhoods. The queen had been laughing and relaxed all week—but that was before the ladon in Riss, before Ebon had smelled the norindour in Stonyvale.

She had just been thinking about her birthday, for no good reason—thinking about the party that she would give at the palace this year. Sixteen was an important birthday: you became legally a grown-up at sixteen. The first thing she was going to do as a grown-up was give a birthday party that would have as many pegasi as humans attending—exactly as many. So for every unbound human she wanted to come there would have to be an unbound pegasus. She was going to ask Ebon if it would be impertinent to invite a shaman, and if not which one, or (better) more than one. Maybe those who’d spoken to Nirakla? She didn’t quite have the nerve to ask him if she could invite his master.

It’s not like that, Ebon said. My dad’s talking to your dad about it right now. I’m pretty sure it’s going to be all right.... Ebon was giving off waves of excitement so strong it was like trying to stand up in the middle of the Anuluin in spring flood. There , said Ebon, as a pegasus appeared on the steps of the palace. Ebon and Sylvi were loitering under the cherry tree near the little garden door that Sylvi usually used—it was the one closest to her rooms. This wasn’t anywhere you would expect to see a pegasus, unless it was Ebon looking for her, or someone looking for Ebon. Come on, said Ebon, and surged forward, trotting a few steps before he stopped and turned back to her, repeating, Come on— and reaching out his nearer wing to scoop her toward him. Usually in public they did try to remember the ban on physical contact—but this wasn’t really public, was it? she thought guiltily, and twined her fingers into the mane at the base of his neck, over his withers, and let his momentum pull her along.

This is Drahmahna, said Ebon, nearly running the pegasus at the door down. Sylvi, with her fingers still caught in Ebon’s mane, managed to make the Honoured to meet you sign as they swept past. They were obviously going to the king’s private office—how did Ebon know? What was Lrrianay—

The two footmen flung open the doors without waiting for them to make the formal request: they were expected. The footmen were also wearing hai . What—?

Her father was smiling, but it was a strange smile, sad and elated and worried all at once. The only people present were the human king and the pegasus king: Fazuur was not there; nor were any of Corone’s privy council or Lrrianay’s court. Whatever conversation had been had, whatever decisions had been made, they had been made between the two kings alone.