Kildas made answer. “If you mean we stand at year’s end, to greet a new one with the dawn—”
“Just so. We pass now into the Year of the Unicorn.”
“Which some might take as a good omen, “ Kildas. responded, “since the unicorn is the guardian of maidens and the banner of the innocent.”
“Tonight—” Solfinna’s voice was very low, “we would gather in the great hall, with ivy and holly on the board so each might have a sprig for wearing—holly for the men, green ivy for us. And we would drink the year’s cup together and feed the Strawman and the Frax woman to the flames, burning them with scented grasses, so that the crops would be fair and plentiful and luck would take its abode under our high roof tree—”
I had memories of the household meeting she put tongue to—a simple one, but carrying meaning for those who lived upon the fruits of the soil. Each silent and dark farmstead we had passed would be doing likewise this night, as would they with more revelry in a great hall. Only at the Abbey there would be no feasting nor burning of symbols, as the Dames allowed no such pagan ceremonies within their austere walls.
“I wonder whether our lords-and-masters-to-be welcome in the year’s beginning in some such manner.” Kildas broke the silence of our memories. “They worship not the Flames, since. Those by their very nature are alien to the Riders’ world. To what gods do they bow? Or have they any gods at all?”
Solfinna gave a little gasp. “No gods! How may a man live without gods, a power greater than himself to trust upon?”
Aldeeth laughed scornfully. “Who says that they are men? They are not to be judged as we judge. Have you not yet bit full upon that truth, girl? It is time to throw away your cup of memory, since you and we were born under ill-fated stars which have determined we pass so out of one world into another, even as we pass from the old year into the new.”
“Why do you deem that that which is unknown must likewise be ill?” I asked. “To look diligently for shadows is to find them. Throwing aside all rumour and story, what evil do we know of the Riders?”
They spoke then, several together, and Kildas, listening to that jumble of speech, laughed.
“ ‘They say’—‘they say’—this and that they say! Now give full name and rank to they I’ll warrant that this, our sister-comrade has the right of it. What do we know save rumour and ill-wishing? Never have the Were Riders lifted sword or let fly arrow against us—only have they ravaged the enemy in our behalf, after making covenant and bargain with our kin. Because a man grows black hair upon his head, wears a grey cloak, likes to live in a land of his own choosing, is he any different in blood, bone and spirit from he who had fair locks beneath his helm, goes with scarlet about his shoulders, and would ride in company along a port town street? Both have their part to play in the land. What evil of your own knowing has ever been from Rider hand?”
“But they are not men!” Aldeeth wished to make the worst of it.
“How know we that, either? They have powers which are not ours, but do all of us have talents alike? One may set ’broidery on silk so as to make one wish to pluck the stitched flowers and listen to the singing of the birds she has wrought. Another may draw her fingers across lute strings and voice such a song as to set us all a-dreaming. Do we each and every one of us do these things in a like measure? Therefore men may have gifts beyond our knowing and yet be men, apart from those talents.”
Whether she believed what she spoke or not, yet she was doing valiant service here against the fear which sucked at us all.
“Lady Aldeeth,” I broke in, “you wear upon your tabard a salamander easy among flames. Have you seen such a creature? Or does it not have a different meaning for you and your house—and its friends and enemies—than a lizard encouched on a fiery bed?”
“It means we may be menaced but not consumed.” she replied as if by rote.
“And I see a basilisk here, a phoenix, a wyvern—do these exist in truth, or do they stand for ideas which each of your houses have made their guiding spirits? If this is true, then perhaps those we go to, have also symbols which may be misunderstood by those who are not lettered in their form of heraldry.” So did I play Hildas’ game, if game it was.
But still the green light glowed unchanged in the pass and Lord Imgry and his companions did not return. While waiting always frays the nerves of those who have only time to think.
We were sitting on stones, still huddled around the fire, when he who was Imgry’s lieutenant returned with the message that we were to move on, into the Throat. And while I can not answer for the others, I believed that each of them shared what I was feeling, an excitement which was more than half fear.
But we rode not into any camp of men prepared to do us welcome. Rather did we find at the end of the pass a wide ledge and on that set shelter-tents of hide. Within were couches covered with the skins of beasts, and some so carpeted also. There was a long, low table in the largest tent and it was spread with food.
I stroked a fine silver-white fur, beautiful enough to form a mantle for the lady of a great lord. It was dappled with a deeper grey and so well cured that it was as soft in my hands as a silken shift. Though all about us was leather red or fur, still there was a magnificence which spoke of honour offered and comfort promised.
Lord Imgry stood at the foot of the table as we finished those viands left for us, a bread with dried fruit baked therein, smoked meat of rich flavour, sweets which had the taste of wild honey and nutmeats. He had a shadow about him, I suddenly thought, as if between him and our company was forming a barrier—that indeed we were already forsaking our kind. But there was this time no fear in that thought, only again did I feel that prick of eagerness to be away—to be doing—where and what? I could not name either.
“Listen well.” his voice was unduly harsh, sending us all into silence. “In the morn you shall hear a signal—the calling of a horn. Then will you take the marked path leading from this tent, and you will go down to where your lords await you—”
“But—” Solfinna protested, “there will have been no marriage, no giving by cup and flame.”
He smiled at her as if that shaping of the lips came, for him, with vast effort.
“You pass from those who deal by Cup and Flame, my lady. Marriage awaits you true enough, but by other rites. However, they will be as binding. I bid you,” he paused and looked at each in turn, coming at last to me, though his gaze did not linger, “good fortune.” His hand moved in the green light of the table lamps. He was holding a cup. “As he who stands for all of you as father-kin, do I drink long years, fair life, and easy passing, kin-favour, roof-fortune, child-holding. Thus be it ever!”
So did the Lord Imgry perform for the twelve and one he had brought hither the father-kin farewell. And then , he was swiftly gone before any found tongue.
“So be it.” I stood up and in that moment of bewilderment their eyes all swung to me. “I do not think we shall see my lord again.”
“But to go alone—down to strangers—” one of them made protest.
“Alone?” I asked. Swiftly Kildas came in, as might a shield companion in a sharp skirmish.
“We are twelve and one, not one alone. Look you, girl—this may be a festive hall, yet I think we have been made good welcome here.” She drew to her a lustrous length of black fur, with small diamond sparkles touching the hair tips in the light.
I had half expected trouble after the going of Imgry.
But, while there was little talk among them as they prepared for the waiting couches, also there was more a sense of expectancy and content. Almost as if each in truth did wait for a wedding she might have hoped for in the usual passing of time. They were quiet as if their thoughts were turned inward, and, now and again, one had a shadow of smile about her lips. As I drew the silver fur about my shoulders I wondered a little.