The Black Raven - Katharine Kerr [63]
“Well, a good day to you, then. I’d best be getting back.”
Without another word he strolled off. Evandar glowered after him, then strode off in the opposite direction to head for the mothers of all roads and home.
When he returned to his country, he found it white, wrapped in a silence of snow. For a long time he stood on the hilltop and looked, merely looked, at the ruin of what he’d created, the garden dead, the long meadows wrapped in frost, the river frozen and still. Although he knew he should be gone hunting his brother down, he had no heart for it.
And while Evandar mourned the death and birth of his people, Time passed in the world of men and elves below.
On her mother’s bed, Elessi lay facedown, trying to turn herself over. She floundered, rocked back and forth, tipped her head back and glared as she beat at the blanket with one chubby hand. All at once she let out a high, thin wail; her face reddened, and the wail turned to a howl of sheer rage. Screaming, she arched her back and swayed so hard that she turned herself over, but she lay waving her arms and legs and screeching at the top of her lungs. Carra perched on the edge of the bed and smiled at her daughter.
“You did it!” Carra said. “You did it! Look, look! You’re on your back!”
Elessi ignored her and went on screaming until Carra picked her up and cradled her against one shoulder. In her mother’s arms she fell silent, then grabbed a strand of Carra’s hair in one fist. She sucked on the golden strand while Carra murmured to her and rocked back and forth. Dallandra and Lady Ocradda, standing nearby at the foot of the bed, exchanged glances.
“Oh you can say it,” Carra snapped. “She’s got an awful temper. I know it better than you do.”
“I’m sure you do, Your Highness,” Ocradda said.
“She absolutely hates to be thwarted. If she can’t have somewhat she wants the very moment she wants it, she screams like this and carries on so. I’ve not been around many babies. Is she all right, do you think?”
“Well, my dear princess,” Ocradda said, smiling. “She’s a bit young to learn patience.”
Dallandra nodded her agreement, but she was remembering the things Evandar had been telling her about Salamander’s little son. She was seeing a hideous similarity between him and Elessi—the utter frustrations of a soul to whom everything in the world was first-time new.
For some days, in fact, she’d been trying to reach Evandar, both by forming images of him in her mind and, when that failed, sending the Wildfolk in search of him. Finally, on a morning when the sunlight actually felt warm, and the snow lay thin and streaky, he appeared, meeting her in the copse on Market Hill. He seemed dreadfully thin to her, that morning, and so pale that the sour cherry color of his lips flamed scarlet. Without thinking she laid a hand along his face, which felt as cool and silky as always.
“What are you doing?” Evandar said.
“I thought you might be feverish or suchlike, that’s all. Have you been ill? Or is that a silly question for the likes of you?”
“I don’t know if it is or not. I’ve done some strange things since last we met.”
“Indeed? What?”
“I learned that I’m not the master of my own Lands, for one, and an evil thing that was—though a good did come out of it.”
“Indeed? What do you mean, or is this one of your tedious riddles?”
“It’s not. But it was just a little thing. Perhaps you’d not be interested.”
“Evandar, please don’t tease me!”
All at once he laughed aloud.
“It’s come true, your wish for my people.” He was grinning at her. “They’ve crossed the white river. They chose life, and I gave it to them.”
Dallandra let her hand drop and stared at him like a lackwit. His smiled faded, and he cocked his head to one side.
“Aren’t you pleased?”
“Of course.” She found her voice at last. “You just took me utterly by surprise. That’s wonderful, my love. I’m so happy for them! And I’m so proud of you.”
His smile returned in force, and he strutted a little, walking back and forth through