Child of Flame (Crown of Stars 4)

“Queens’ Grave is ringed by a wall!” exclaimed Alain, amazed by how the wood posts changed the aspect of the great tumulus, making it look rather like a slumbering porcupine. “How could you have done that in only two seasons?”

“We had work parties from all the other villages, Two Streams, Pine Top, Muddy Walk, Old Fort, Four Houses. Even Spring Water. It took us all summer to build it, and I think we must have felled the forest all the way from here to Four Houses!” All the men laughed, but no one disagreed.

“Who cares about the work we did?” cried Kel. “You must tell us all the things you saw!”

“I hope you will,” agreed Urtan, chuckling, “if only to keep this fly from buzzing all day. We haven’t had a moment’s peace from him since you left.”

“You should have taken me with you!” protested Kel when all the men laughed. “I wouldn’t have faltered! When will you tell us the tale of your journey?”

“Patience,” replied Alain, laughing with the others, although in truth he was looking around to see where Adica had gone. She had retreated from the village quietly, with all the attention shifting to the centaurs and to him, and he finally spotted her in the distance by the birthing house, finishing some hallowing task.

Urtan chased the other men away, even Kel. “Go on,” he said.

Alain hurried along the river to the birthing house, the hounds loping alongside, but he was careful not to cross the fence onto ground where only women were granted leave to walk. On the other side, Adica picked flower petals off the ground, expression pensive as she searched among the low grass for each precious one, those that hadn’t blown away. Had she changed so much since the first time he had seen her, or had he?

She had certainly seemed attractive, that day almost a year ago, especially wearing that provocative corded skirt whose every shift along her thighs revealed skin and glimpses of greater mysteries, but he would not have called her pretty, not with a slightly crooked nose, the livid burn scar on her cheek, an overly-generous mouth, and a narrow chin.

Now he knew that she was beautiful.

“Adica.”

She looked up. Her smile made her beautiful, the light in her face, the ragged lilt of her voice, the graceful confidence of her movements as she came to embrace him by the fence, the shadow of sadness in her expression that he struggled every moment to wipe away, so that she would know nothing but joy.

“What’s this?” asked Alain when he could finally bear to let go of her. He lifted her right hand and studied the lapis lazuli ring adorning her middle finger. “This looks very like a ring I once gave to a woman who needed my help.”

“So you did. I met her in a vision trance, and she gave it to me. She thought you needed it.”

He shuddered, but maybe that was only the cold breeze on his neck. “What magic can make a ring travel through visions? Where did you see her? You were in a trance when I saw you last. Ai, God, I have so many questions. I know now you came safely to Queen Shuashaana’s palace, and that she returned you here. Did Laoina return to her tribe? I feared I had lost you, beloved.”

“Nay,” she said, almost in tears as she buried her face against his chest and just held him. Sorrow and Rage settled down nearby, willing to wait her out. After a while, she was able to go on: she had woken out of her vision trance in the care of Shu-Sha and, after a few days waiting for Alain and recovering, Shu-Sha had sent her home alone through the stone looms. “I only got back yesterday. I thought I’d lost you.”

“But you did not. I told you I would never leave you. How many times do I have to tell you?” He smiled and kissed her. “Tell me about the ring.”

d to make Sos’ka and her comrades known to Adica and Mother Weiwara. In fact, he had to interpret for them all since the Horse people did not speak a tongue known to the tribes of the White Deer folk. The centaurs made a pretty obeisance to Adica, honoring her as a Hallowed One, and it was agreed that they would stay until after the dark of the sun to help protect her and only then return to their own tribe. All the children wanted a ride, and the haughty centaurs relented enough to let the youngsters be helped up onto their backs. Meanwhile, Urtan, Beor, and the other men insisted on showing Alain the hard work the villagers and other work parties had done over the spring, summer, and early autumn.

“See what a fine palisade we’ve built!” boasted Beor, as though he had achieved a personal victory against the Cursed Ones by hoisting logs into place. “Although I notice that you came back only after all the hard work was done.”

“Queens’ Grave is ringed by a wall!” exclaimed Alain, amazed by how the wood posts changed the aspect of the great tumulus, making it look rather like a slumbering porcupine. “How could you have done that in only two seasons?”

“We had work parties from all the other villages, Two Streams, Pine Top, Muddy Walk, Old Fort, Four Houses. Even Spring Water. It took us all summer to build it, and I think we must have felled the forest all the way from here to Four Houses!” All the men laughed, but no one disagreed.

“Who cares about the work we did?” cried Kel. “You must tell us all the things you saw!”

“I hope you will,” agreed Urtan, chuckling, “if only to keep this fly from buzzing all day. We haven’t had a moment’s peace from him since you left.”

“You should have taken me with you!” protested Kel when all the men laughed. “I wouldn’t have faltered! When will you tell us the tale of your journey?”

“Patience,” replied Alain, laughing with the others, although in truth he was looking around to see where Adica had gone. She had retreated from the village quietly, with all the attention shifting to the centaurs and to him, and he finally spotted her in the distance by the birthing house, finishing some hallowing task.

Urtan chased the other men away, even Kel. “Go on,” he said.

Alain hurried along the river to the birthing house, the hounds loping alongside, but he was careful not to cross the fence onto ground where only women were granted leave to walk. On the other side, Adica picked flower petals off the ground, expression pensive as she searched among the low grass for each precious one, those that hadn’t blown away. Had she changed so much since the first time he had seen her, or had he?

She had certainly seemed attractive, that day almost a year ago, especially wearing that provocative corded skirt whose every shift along her thighs revealed skin and glimpses of greater mysteries, but he would not have called her pretty, not with a slightly crooked nose, the livid burn scar on her cheek, an overly-generous mouth, and a narrow chin.

Now he knew that she was beautiful.

“Adica.”