In the next room, her father said something and the women laughed. It didn't take much to bring them. At one time, even the imperial court had sought to provide their newest Keeper and Seeker with a mother. They'd sent a pretty nursemaid of marriageable age with each supply train. Each had been summarily returned. Finally, the court had stopped trying. The village women had not.
Their father was kind and healthy and strong, a good provider who loved his daughters and helped his neighbors and made people smile. Moria often heard the women whisper about how handsome he was, though she couldn't see it herself. She wished they'd leave him alone. He clearly did not want to marry. He did have "friends," and Moria was old enough to know that when he went to visit one of the widows, he was not playing capture-my-lord. That didn't bother Moria. It was a perfectly sensible solution.
She scowled as the women tittered again. Then she noticed Daigo looking toward the window.
"You're right," she said. "We should be going."
She hopped up and knelt where Tova lay. He was sleeping now, thanks to a brew from Healer Mabill's husband. Still, it was a fitful sleep as the big hound twitched and moaned, worrying about Ashyn.
"I'll watch for the flare," Moria whispered to him. "I'll make sure she's all right."
She walked into the main room, where everyone sat around a blazing fire. As tempting as it was to stamp through with a grunted "Going out," she couldn't quite manage it--too much time spent with her father and sister. She murmured vaguely polite greetings as she passed. When she reached the front room, her father appeared, closing the door behind him.
"I'm going out," she said.
"To wait for the flare."
She shrugged and pulled on a boot.
"She's fine, Moria. The flare will come. It always does."
She'd caught him at the fence at midday, watching for the signal. He'd pretended otherwise, of course--just out for a stroll. That's the excuse she used now, which only made him sigh.
She leaned over and hugged him. It was a slightly awkward hug--she wasn't nearly as good at it as Ashyn--but he never seemed to notice, embracing her back and whispering, "Stay on the ground, all right? Please."
She nodded and slipped into the night with Daigo.
Moria did walk on the ground--all the way to the end of their street. But the road was crowded. She had to pass at least two people and a cart. So when she reached the village wall, she climbed onto it and Daigo hopped up beside her.
True, she had fallen before--once from the wall, once from the roof of the village hall. She'd broken an ankle the first time, a wrist the second. But she regretted neither because they had been lessons. Her father didn't see it that way, and he swore his heart would fail him when he saw her running atop the high wall.
She didn't run today. There was no need. The flare wouldn't come until the moon reached its zenith. So she strolled along the fence top, lifting a hand each time a villager called a greeting. They never worried--she was the Keeper, as sure-footed as her wildcat.
"Off to watch for the flare?" The chicken-keeper's wife peered from her window. "You needn't fret, child. The flare will come."
"I know."
Before Moria could move on, the woman came out, apron drawn up. "I heard you thrashed the miller's boy for tormenting the little ones."
Moria shrugged. "He needed a thrashing; I needed the exercise."
The woman smiled and held up a wineskin. "Chicken soup. To keep you warm while you wait." She plucked two eggs from her apron and passed them up. "I didn't forget you, Daigo."
The wildcat chuffed. Moria thanked her and contin
ued on.
Moria paced alongside the first tower. By now even Daigo had grown weary and was lying down, paws tucked in, feigning boredom. Yet at every flicker, he looked to the sky. The flare was late. And no one seemed to notice except her.
"It's warmer up here," the guard called from the tower. "I have furs."
Moria bet he did. Levi was one of the youngest guards, just past his twentieth summer. After the Fire Festival, when she'd had a few too many sips of honey wine, he'd taken her behind the hall and offered to "make her a woman." He apparently made the same offer to Ashyn after the autumn dance, perhaps hoping to double his chances.
In theory, Moria was not opposed to his proposal. She understood his offer didn't come with heartfelt promises of undying love. Ashyn was the one who dreamed of romance. Moria's interest in men was far more practical.
Although the Keeper and the Seeker were not permitted to marry, they could take lovers. While Ashyn envisioned ardent romances, Moria didn't quite see the point. She did understand the physical allure, though. When she watched the guards strip off their tunics in the summer heat, she could feel her own body temperature rise. Sadly, given Levi's fumbling embraces, he didn't quite seem suited to the task. That hadn't stopped him from trying. Nor had it stopped Moria from allowing the occasional kiss or fondle, in hopes that, with practice, he might get better at it. So far, though, he'd shown no aptitude for learning.
"Moria," he called. "Come up. It's too cold down there."