Mercedes Lackey - Sword of Ice and Other Tales of Valdemar

"Move over!" Coulsie hissed, sliding into place beside Tullin. Tsamar and Shonu eeled through the bushes behind her.

"Anything happening?" Shonu whispered though whispers were not necessary. The hertasi language sounded like a series of hisses and snorts to the untrained human ear, and blended in with the rustle of the leaves in the wind.

"They're sharing food," Tullin said with satisfaction. "And they're talking, too, about things other than hunting and metalsmithing. It's going splendidly."

Shonu snorted softly. "Splendidly? He misses her signals completely! Look, there, how she hoods her eyes and how her hand signals 'come closer' each time she says something to him. He sits there, nostrils dilated, ready for her, frozen like a statue, afraid to move. This isn't 'splendid,' Tullin. Perhaps we should ..." A long, clawed hand reached out and wrapped itself around Shonu's snout.

"I remember the last time you had a good idea," Tullin said with ironic humor. "We spent three weeks trying to explain the situation to the Hawkbrothers and getting them all settled down again. Bluethorn didn't speak to me for five days. I don't think we need any suggestions about Ironrose and Sunrunner."

"But . . . but just look at them. At that pace, our children's children will be having children before those two do more than say 'good morning.' Those two need help."

"I remember how well Icefalcon and Eventree fared with your help."

Shonu closed his mouth with a snap. Tullin blinked his amusement and turned back to watch the two in the pool.

"But it all grew back," Shonu protested in vain.

Tullin entered the smithy, blinking contentedly in the early morning sunlight. Ironrose was already there, stoking the fires of the forge. He tasted the air out of habit, noting that the smith was in a good mood this morning. Gliding over to the worktable, he examined the sketches that Ironrose had left. Today they'd begin on the new bow fittings for Tallbush. He eyed the design critically. They'd need a fairly flexible blend; one that could take a lot of stress . . . probably one of the eastern Blend Eight ingots. As he turned back toward the ingot storeroom, a scrap of parchment on the floor caught his eye. He bent and picked it up.

It was a drawing of a rose, caught at the earliest flush of bloom; a graceful spiral of stem and petals reaching upward like a promise. He studied it speculatively for a long moment, then tucked it into his tool pouch. He hefted an ingot of Blend Eight and then, on a sudden impulse, added a quarter-ingot of Blend Two to his load.

"Where are the drawings?" Ironrose frowned, pawing through the nominally organized litter on his worktable.

Tullin blinked innocently. "I set them down there, on the corner of your worktable next to the other project. It's still there. Perhaps you picked it up and put it somewhere else?"

Ironrose moved aside the metal bar of Blend Eight. "Not under them. I promised him the fittings would be finished in the next two days," he fretted. "I can't imagine what I've done with them."

"Why don't you work on your love token for Sunrunner while I look for them," Tullin suggested.

"Love token?"

Tullin pointed to the scrap of paper with the rose, lying pinned by the quarter ingot of Blend Two. "A fitting symbol; a gift more enduring than the feather, a thing of inner grace and beauty with a strong outer form. Like yourself, or like the hunter."

Ironrose stared in astonishment. "Really, she's not . . ." he began.

". . . interested in you? Your eyes fail to see what hertasi eyes see—how the hunter laughs with you as she does with no other; how her eyes follow you sadly when you leave. Human eyes may not note, but the hertasi do. Offer the token. It will not be refused." He leaned back, resting his weight on his tail, a casual pose belied by the interest in his wide eyes.

Ironrose hesitated. "If you think I am wrong, make the rose anyway. If she refuses it as a love token, say that it was only made as a gift.

"You have nothing to lose," he added, closing in for the verbal kill. "If nothing else, she'll probably give you a return gift of a marshbuck quarter."

Ironrose weighed the ingot in his large hand. Tullin blinked mildly and picked up a lightweight hammer from the workbench, silently offering it to the smith. Ironrose scowled and took the hammer and turned back to the forge, grumbling, the design for the rose in his hand.

As soon as the smith's head bent over the design, Tullin darted for the back door.

Coulsie flicked her tailtip in satisfaction as she took the day's kill from Sunrunner. Tullin slithered in the doorway behind Sunrunner, carrying two arrowheads for the hunter's bow. He nodded and touched muzzles with his mate, then handed the arrowheads to Sunrunner.

"I see you've had good hunting," he said. "Here are the three arrowheads you asked for—and two more, as a gift."

Sunrunner took them, bewildered but pleased. "For me? A gift?"

Tullin nodded knowingly. "I think Ironrose is very interested in you. He would like to offer you a courtship token, I think, but he is too afraid you will reject him— as the others have. So I bring these to you for him, though I know he would rather send his heart. He is afraid of love, but would welcome your friendship."

Coulsie hissed at him, shocked at his boldness. Tullin blinked one eye at her, his claws flexing with repressed mischief.

"Ironrose surprises me," Coulsie murmured in the hertasi tongue. "It is a good move, but one I thought he was too shy to make."

"I didn't say he SENT the two extra arrowheads, now did I?" Tullin said straight-faced. "Nor did I say that he made them. I said that they were a gift—and so they are. I made them for her myself."

Coulsie flicked her tongue over her muzzle thoughtfully. The Hawkbrothers relied on the truthfulness of the hertasi folk, and while Tullin hadn't lied, he hadn't told the full truth, either.

"Tullin . . ." she murmured.

"Trust me," Tullin whispered. "I have a plan."

"Move over, Coulsie! I can't see!" Tullin prodded. "You're blocking the view!"

She looked at him speculatively. "Is Ironrose coming?"

He nodded, wiggling to a comfortable position next to her.

"And—?"

"He finished the token. It took me a long tune to talk him into bringing it with him. I came ahead to check on things here and make sure that everything was prepared."

"Shonu's got dinner for two set up. H'shama and Huli have the kitchen relay ready and Tsamar is cooling the ashdown tea over in the stream."

"Good. Good," Tullin said with satisfaction. "There's Ironrose now. He's slow tonight."

Coulsie looked sympathetically at the tall form of the smith. "More awkward than usual, and stiffer in his movements—if that's possible," she noted as the smith began undressing. "Look how carefully he folds his clothes, taking his time. This was a hard decision for him. He looks scared."

Tullin wiggled, rubbing shoulders with her. "No more scared than I was when I danced my courting dance for you. But I had tasted your scent and knew what the answer would be. Poor taste-blind Hawkbrother only has what his eyes and his heart tell him. The eyes and the heart are notorious liars. Not like the tongue. You cannot lie to the tongue." He slithered down from his perch. "I don't see the love token he made," Tullin sniffed critically.

"The rose?" Coulsie said.

"Yes. It's not in his clothes either," Tullin said, rocking back on his heels. "He must have been afraid to bring it after all. I'll have to fix the oversight. Start the food and drinks; I'll be back in a moment!" he whispered as he slid through the leafy undergrowth.

The hunter toyed with the lacings of the smith's apron she had bartered a moon's hunting for. Tallbush had managed to keep it a secret; he was certain Ironrose would like it very much. She was not so sure, considering the circumstances her heart told her it should be given in.