Robin McKinley - Pegasus

Her father smiled.“ There are roads to Swarl and Chaugh, and inns and way stations. There are none over the Starcloud Mountains. I said exactly the same thing to my mother—oh, about forty-five years ago. I think I remember her saying she’d said the same thing to her father. But it’s perhaps not as simple as you think. Barring you and Ebon, no bound human has ever been quite sure what he—or she—says is heard by their pegasus the way they said it—however much faith they have in their Speaker. Ahathin has told you the failure rates among those who study as Speakers, yes? How sure are we that even those who succeed—do succeed? Why do we need magic just to talk to each other? And magic is a notoriously tricky servant, even when it’s doing something straightforward like reinforcing the Wall or helping a tracker find a strayed lamb or a taralian.

“What does our connection with the pegasi consist of—besides the Alliance itself? Which appears to include the peculiarly unquantifiable fact that our prosperity is in some fashion dependent on the presence of pegasi? And our—problematical—bindings? The pegasi, so far as we can tell, don’t use money, and there’s apparently nothing they wish to barter. They have been bringing us a few handfuls of gems from their mountains now and again since they discovered Balsin liked them—to pay for the annex, to pay for their keep. And they bring us gifts. That’s all. Although our gardeners say that their dung gives the palace the best fruit and flowers in the country. Before you had Ebon, what did you think about the pegasi?”

“Wings. Flying.” She paused.“Weird. Scary. Beautiful. And—er—maybe a little vain.”

“Yes. How could they not be vain, when they’re so beautiful? I thought exactly the same. And after you’re bound, you merely have a specific weird scary beautiful and possibly vain individual with wings to fail to communicate with, and how are you going to go about hinting to such a person that you’d like to intrude on his privacy? Especially given their deferential status here with us—and the importance of the Alliance?”

“But you’re the king.”

“Yes. So is he. And, to the extent that I know Lrrianay, ‘vain’ is approximately the last word I’d apply to him. Which makes me wonder what other human attitudes we’re assuming the pegasi share because it doesn’t occur to us they’re assumptions.”

Sylvi thought of the many times she’d said—assumed—the wrong thing with Ebon. But . . . there were barely any stories of humans in the pegasi country. It seemed to be almost as comprehensive a ban as on stories of friendship between pegasi and humans. There were a few folk-tales and ballads where you didn’t know which were the made-up bits or the stories themselves made it plain the travellers in question were not to be relied on. In spite of what her father had said, it seemed to her astonishing that no bound human had ever tried to visit their pegasus at home. And yet Ebon said that the pegasi said that the humans didn’t come. The pegasi made assumptions too.

She didn’t bring it up again to her father or to Ahathin—she had nearly managed to forget her disturbing conversation with Ahathin. And she was vigilant in not bringing it up again to Ebon. But she went on thinking about it. As it turned out, so had Ebon.

There were many more pegasi than usual present for the official announcement of the human princess’ impending visit to her pegasus’ homeland, more than Sylvi could remember since Danny’s ritual of acceptance as the king’s heir. They had begun streaming in the day after Ebon and Lrrianay had returned to the palace, and Ebon had made his astonishing invitation. Even the pegasus queen was here: Sylvi had only barely met the queen; she rarely visited.

“Oh, help,” said Sylvi’s mother, when she’d heard that news.“I don’t think we have a prayer of getting Lori here for it, do we?” Lorival was bound to the pegasus queen—to Lorival’s dismay. Lrrianay had made his unexpected marriage to Aliaalia over two years before Corone had married Eliona—“I spent those two years staying as far away from Cory as I could,” Lorival had said once in Sylvi’s hearing, and laughed. Lorival lived in the port city of Told, where she and her husband, Lord Prelling, were cloth merchants; neither of them came to the palace any oftener than they could help, although one of their daughters had recently married a courtier.

“She won’t thank us for trying,” said the king.“I’ve sent a messenger with strict orders not to hurry. She can come to the dinner. I think Prel’s pegasus will be here too.”

Sylvi was wondering if Lorival would arrive in time while she and Ebon waited for their official summons: lucky Lorival, who could be late. They were again loitering under the cherry tree, but they were standing stiffly, and couldn’t lounge, against the tree or each other. Sylvi was in her court dress, and Ebon was brushed and plaited, with a twinkly little bag around his neck on a wide scarlet ribbon, and neither of them wanted to appear before kings and queens wearing little bits of grass and twigs.

Ah, said Ebon.

Sylvi looked up from examining the silver half-moons on her court shoes. Glarfin was coming slowly—grandly—toward them. He did grand extremely well. He walked toward them like someone bearing an important message to a princess and a prince. She sighed.

And although there was no one else there to hear but the birds, Glarfin bowed deeply and said, “Lady, sir, the king of the humans, the king of the pegasi, the queen of the humans, the queen of the pegasi, thus your royal parents, request your presence.”

Her father wanted the public announcement made as quickly as possible—before the rumours gained momentum. The crowd was waiting in the Great Court, but the first words would be said in the Little Court. Sylvi’s heart was beating faster again, even though she knew what was coming. There were about fifty pegasi present in the Little Court, aside from the king and queen, and about twice as many humans, all of them senators, or blood, or councillors or courtiers: all people important to the palace and the king. The pegasi were all wearing flowers and siragaa, the decorated ribbons that they sometimes wore over their necks for special occasions; the little embroidered bags, the nralaa, that hung from them glittered with tiny jewels. The humans were all wearing their best clothes, grander than the pegasi if not as beautiful; Sylvi’s father was wearing some of the sovereign’s jewels, so that he sparkled as he moved.

It’s just that no one has ever done this before, Sylvi thought, trying to swallow the lump in her throat, but she hadn’t realised she’d thought aloud till Ebon said, That’s right. Think about how much easier we’re making it for everyone who comes after us. But she looked out at the human faces turned toward them and saw that many of them looked solemn and watchful. Uneasy. Uncertain. Uncomfortable. Fazuur, who hadn’t been needed for the pegasus king to make his revolutionary invitation to the human king, looked haunted.

Most of the pegasi were on or near the dais with her and her family; she could not read the expressions of the few who stood with their humans among the audience, although she could see that their wings lay flat and smooth. Here, at the front, the pegasi outnumbered the humans.

Her father stepped forward, shining like a star, and bowed : bowed to her and Ebon. “Daughter and Daughter’s Excellent Friend, Sylviianel and Ebon, welcome. We are here to make known to both our peoples the great adventure that the two of you are about to embark upon. Lrrianay and his queen, Aliaalia, on behalf of their son, Ebon, do invite you, my daughter and daughter of my queen, Eliona, to visit them in their high land Rhiandomeer, beyond the Starcloud Mountains.”