“I stood speechless, realizing at last why Álm’harat’s vision of this mare had never gone beyond the dance. Last eve, which I had thought the dawn of our sweet fellowship upon the Plain, marked its conclusion instead. In dreams the goddess speaks, had spoken true. ’Twas I who had been too lovestruck witless to comprehend. I felt I might die then, the land beneath my heels heave upward, the air became dust, and darkness swallow me.
“Shaking with sorrow, she bade me farewell, and told me that among her folk, mates pledge for life. I had never heard of such a thing. We have all known a few such blessed pairs, yet I could scarce conceive how one dared hope for such a fortuitous outcome from every tryst, every dancing of the dance. Valedwellers, I learnt, expect to pair for life. Yet she had cast even that most venerated custom aside to join with me for but a night.
“And night was done. We could not prolong it, though from that day on, both would be forever changed. She would not skip home to put me coldly from her mind. No day would pass that she would not think of me, just as no hour since passes for me that I do not think of her, dream and desire her. Though that moment filled me with unbearable sadness, never once in all my years have I felt regret. The goddess led me to my love for some purpose as yet hidden.
“Never after have I looked upon all Moondancers as monsters. Warlike and arrogant as a people, perhaps, but this mare that I so briefly loved, and still love, and will love all the days of my life, was not. She was witty, warm, courageous, shy, all traits I can only admire. I trust she, too, has never again thought evil of my folk. Surely the myth that we are all outlaws from the Vale is dispelled from her heart. Perhaps from the hearts of her children. I cannot say, but if Álm’harat joined us for this alone—that we might cast off our peoples’ long enmity—it is enough.
“I charge you now as you finish the dance: remember my love. For every dark destroyer, other southlanders abide who are honorable and bear us no ill will. Above all, love one another wisely and well, for what you may hope to be a lifelong pledge under Álm’harat’s eyes may endure but an hour. The goddess’s ways do baffle us. The night is brief, but the dance is long. So join and accomplish her rite, all you who so desire. It is part of the Mare’s great Cycle, which turns all the world and the stars.”
As the singer fell silent, bowing his head, the throng surrounding Jan roused themselves. With sudden snorts and wild whinnies, they reared and pranced. Mares and stallions paired off, mock-battling. Small bands of friends cavorted seemingly for sheer pleasure. Yawning colts and young half-growns cropped grass or dozed, oblivious to their elders’ energetic frolic. Some pairs had already struck off into the long grass surrounding the clearing. Most still chased and chivvied in the river bend.
In mounting dismay, Jan cast about, aware suddenly that he must find the one named Calydor before he, too, slipped away in this joyous frenzy. Yet, the young prince realized belatedly, he had no inkling where to begin. He could have kicked himself for never having asked Crimson to describe her uncle’s coloring. He spotted the crimson mare suddenly, approaching the star-spotted singer, who stood surveying the crowd. He, apparently, did not intend to join his fellows in completing the dance. Jan trotted toward them.
“Hail, my child, daughter to my sib,” the dark-blue stallion cried as the young mare shouldered against him with an affectionate nip. “Well met.”
“Hail, Calydor,” the crimson mare replied above her filly’s delighted squeals, “brother to my sire. I bring you greetings.”
Jan halted in his tracks.
“More than greetings alone, I see,” the singer laughed as he nuzzled her sky-blue foal. “You bring a young Moondancer. Turn and acquaint us, if you will, for he stands not three paces from your flank.”
8.
Night
Jan came forward. The thin crescent slip of moon was just setting, sinking curve-downward into distant horizon’s edge. Soon only summer stars would remain to illuminate the dark. The crimson mare turned with a whicker of surprise.
“There you are, my moondancing friend,” she exclaimed. “I sprang ahead to bring word of you to Calydor, but could not catch him ere his tale. Nor could I spot you afterwards. Behold Calydor, brother to my sire.”
“Hail, my son, guest to my brother’s get,” the star-strewn unicorn greeted him.
Jan was struck again by the odd familiarity he felt in the presence of this stallion he had never met before. He and the seer stood the same height, very similar in heft and build. Long-leggèd and lithe, each had a lean, hard dancer’s frame. The dark prince bowed in the way of the Vale, dipping his neck.
“Hail, Calydor,” he replied. “I seek one of my folk who runs amok, him you call the dark destroyer.”
The deep-blue and silver unicorn nodded. “Sooth. Be welcome here. Come, let us retire to the riverbank, and leave the dancers to their sport.”
Dozens of unicorns galloped by, some engaged in nothing more than high-spirited games. Others slept, still others lost in the teasing lead-and-follow of mates at play. Jan spotted the brindled grey stallion loping past, following a mare who whistled at him over one shoulder and plunged away into the grass. The crimson mare stood poised, eyeing her fellows. Jan spied the pale gold stallion standing at Plain’s edge, watching expectantly. Calydor whickered.
“Go, my child. Enjoy the dance. I will see to Sky. In Álm’harat’s keeping, love wisely and well.”
With a whistle of gratitude, the crimson mare bowed on one knee and sped away. Her filly hung back uncertain, until the indigo stallion called her. She trotted alongside him as Calydor turned, headed across the trampled grass toward the river’s bank. Jan fell into step. The sound of cool, green waters murmured in his ears. Their dark, wet fragrance filled his nostrils. The seer chose a spot at the crest of the bend. The bank here was steep, the river reeds low.
“I dreamt your coming, my son,” the starry other said. They stood looking out over the river, the little filly in between. “And well I know of the one you seek.”
“Your niece says you are a seer,” the young prince replied, “that your folk call you ‘Alma’s Eyes.’ ”
The blue-and-silver stallion laughed. “No compliment to my powers, I vow. Only a play upon my name.”
“ ‘Calydor’?” Jan asked. The name was not used in the Vale. “What does it mean?”
“ ‘Stars in summer,’ ” the seer replied. “My folk call the stars ‘Álm’harat’s eyes.’ ”
Jan nodded. “And mine. But I did not know you for a singer as well. I am honored, having heard your song.”
He fell silent, choosing his words. The singer’s tale had moved him strangely, though it had told of a mare breaking the herd’s Law to run wild renegade. He himself had never seen the wisdom of many of his people’s most rigid strictures. Since becoming prince, he had relaxed or discarded a fair number of the oldest and harshest laws. And he had never subscribed to his herd’s ill will against the folk of the Plain: another old hatred that made no sense to him.
“My mate is a singer,” Jan continued. “Her name is Tek. When I return to her, I will recount your tale.”
Calydor bowed his head. “Then ’tis you who honor me. But tell me of the one you seek. Though my dreams speak true, rarely do they reveal all. Much mazes me still about that one, who for two moons trampled the Mare’s Back, terrorizing whomever he met.”
Jan dug into the riverbank with one cloven heel. The sky-blue filly’s head drooped as she leaned against her great-uncle. The young prince gazed off across river and Plain. Images of stars scattered the water’s dark, smooth surface so that it looked like a river of night sky threading the grassy hills. The moon had slipped below horizon’s edge. Its silver gleam faded.