David Coe - The Dark-Eyes War

The two Mettai had spent the first several evenings after the warriors' departure with Grinsa's wife and their beautiful daughter. She spent her days working with the Fal'Borna women in their tanning circle. But late on that first day, when her work was through, she retrieved her child from the girls who cared for the sept's young children, and walked to Besh and Sirj's shelter.

"I understand you're free to leave your z'kal now," she said, after they had greeted her.

"Yes," Besh said, exchanging glances with Sirj. "I believe we have your husband to thank."

"Probably," she said. "I was wondering if you'd like to eat your meals with Bryntelle and me. The Fal'Borna give us food now, because Grinsa's a Weaver. And I'd enjoy the company."

"We'd enjoy that as well," Besh said.

He and Sirj followed her to the shelter she usually shared with Grinsa, where they ate a small meal and chatted deep into the evening.

Cresenne appeared to enjoy their company, and being around the woman and her child was a balm for Besh's heart. He'd been away from Elica, his daughter, for too long, and he missed his grandchildren, Mihas, Annze, and Cam, terribly.

In many ways, Cresenne reminded him of Elica. She was strong, with a sharp wit and a keen mind. Even her laugh was similar to Elica's, low and strong, as if it came from her heart.

He and Sirj ate with her again the following night. Sirj was quiet during their evenings with the woman, though he, too, seemed to enjoy himself.

Still, Besh could only imagine how much the man missed Elica and their children, and he wondered if being with Cresenne and the baby brought him some comfort or made him feel even worse.

On this third day, as the sun started its slow descent in the west and they waited for Cresenne to come to their shelter again, Besh asked Sirj if the two of them should have their supper alone that night.

"Why?" Sirj asked, clearly puzzled by the suggestion.

Besh shrugged. "I thought that maybe…" He stopped, frowning slightly. "I don't know if it's hard for you to be with Cresenne and Bryntelle. If it makes being apart from Elica and the children even worse."

"Nothing could make that worse than it already is," Sirj said in a low voice, staring off across the sept.

Besh put his hand on the man's shoulder. "No," he said. "I don't suppose it could."

"I like going," Sirj said. "She's a good woman. She and Grinsa… they belong together."

For a moment Besh thought that Sirj would say more. But he didn't and Besh didn't see any need to belabor the point. When Cresenne appeared in the distance a short time later, he raised a hand in greeting and when she neared, he and Sirj stood to greet her.

They didn't talk about much as they walked back to her z'kal. Besh asked her about what work she had done that day, but she didn't have much to say. She seemed quieter than usual, though her daughter was chattering enough for all of them. Since the first night they had supped together, the girl had taken a special interest in Sirj. Cresenne said that she thought that it was Sirj's dark, wild hair and beard, which were so different from the white hair of the Qirsi and even from Besh's grey. She didn't think that the babe had ever seen anyone who looked like the young Mettai.

Whatever the reason, the girl peered at Sirj as they walked, her pale eyes as wide as they could be, a faint smile on her perfect little mouth.

After a few moments of this, Cresenne said, "Would you like to hold her?"

Sirj looked at the woman, a slightly panicked expression on his face. "Hold her?"

"You have children, right?" she said. "You've held babies before." Besh fought hard to keep from laughing.

Cresenne stopped walking and held out her daughter for Sirj to take. He hesitated a moment and then took the child in his arms. She let out a delighted squeal and immediately grabbed hold of his beard with both hands.

"Bryntelle!" Cresenne said, laughing.

"It's all right," Sirj said, looking up from Bryntelle's face. "It doesn't hurt. At least not much." He grinned, but there were tears in his eyes.

"All right," Cresenne said. She glanced at Besh, her expression pained.

They walked on, and had nearly reached Cresenne's shelter when the woman abruptly halted.

"Damn," she said under her breath.

Looking in the same direction she was, Besh saw the n'qlae standing in front of the shelter, her arms crossed over her chest.

"What do you think she wants?" Besh asked in a whisper.

Cresenne shook her head, her lips in a tight line. "I don't know. But she and her husband don't seem to like any of us very much. Better let me do the talking."

He nodded. Cresenne took the baby back from Sirj and they walked on.

"Good evening, N'Qlae," Cresenne said, stopping in front of the woman.

The n'qlae nodded to Cresenne and then, after hesitating for just a moment, nodded to the two Mettai as well.

"Is something wrong?" Cresenne asked. "Has something happened?"

"I've had no word from the a'laq, if that's what you mean."

Cresenne appeared to relax somewhat. "Then what can I do for you?"

"I've noticed that the three of you sup together each night," the woman said.

"What of it?" Cresenne demanded, her voice hardening. "Is that why you've come? You think we're plotting against your sept? I would have thought that after the a'laq's dream the other night you'd know better." She shook her head. "You and your people will never trust me, will you? Just as you'll never trust these men, though they've saved your life and that of every person in this sept."

Besh had some idea of how the Fal'Borna honored their a'laqs and n'qlaes, and he feared that Cresenne had pushed the woman too far. But the n'qlae's expression hardly changed, except for a vague smile that touched the corners of her mouth.

"Are you through?" she asked.

Cresenne blushed. Abruptly she seemed unwilling to look the woman in the eye. "Yes."

"I've noticed that the three of you sup together each evening, and I was wondering if you would join me tonight in my z'kal. The food would be little different from what you've been eating. And like you," the n'qlae said, looking at Cresenne, "I'm without my man right now. I grow tired of supping alone every night."

There was a lengthy silence. Sirj caught Besh's eye and raised his eyebrows. The n'qlae was smiling again.

"I owe you an apology, N'Qlae," Cresenne said at last.

"Yes, I believe you do. But I also believe that settles an old debt. We won't speak of it again."

"Thank you, N'Qlae."

"Come along then," the n'qlae said after another brief silence. "I'm hun gry, and it's too cold to be standing out here doing nothing."

They followed the woman back to her shelter. A fire already burned within, and there were several bowls of food arrayed on the far side of the shelter… Some of it was similar to the food Besh and Sirj had eaten with Cresenne in recent nights: smoked rilda meat, boiled roots, and flat bread. But there were also dishes that Besh didn't recognize, including some sort of dried fruit that smelled wonderfully sweet.

They sat by the fire and the n'qlae began to pass the bowls around, urging her guests to take as much as they wanted.

As the bowls made their way around the circle, the n'qlac pulled out a small flask, unstoppered it, and poured a small amount of golden liquid into four cups.

"What is that?" Sirj asked.

The woman grinned. "Sweetgrass whiskey," she said. "Usually I only drink it with E'Menua. But you're guests, and I've been thinking about it all day."

She passed a cup to each of them.

When Cresenne took hers, Bryntelle reached for it and looked down into the cup.

"She wants some, too, eh?" the n'qlae said, and laughed.

Besh sniffed at the cup and was entranced. It smelled like sweet clover and honey and wine all mixed together. "What did you say this was?" he asked in amazement.