The Song of Andiene - By Elisa Blaisdell Page 0,111

wept, but later that night, he sang, while Lenane played on the lute she had taken from the palace.

She began with the songs of love; those he could sing most joyfully. Even the sad songs pleased him, perfect in their sadness. He sang the Lament of Tare, of love won and love lost.

The grain is mure, is rotten ripe,

The silver sand has run away.

I won my love but for a day,

Yet I shall never mourn.

Lenane played the ending, the melody echoing, dying away, the strings speaking as movingly as a human voice. Then she laughed and turned to songs of magic, songs of war and heroism; they stuck in Ilbran’s throat.

But Tarilis, a tall swordsman, one of Kallan’s crew, took up the song when Ilbran stopped, and the others joined lustily. “Look at us,” Syresh cried. “A little band, so fair and free—a little band of brave ones.”

Andiene smiled to herself and juggled with stones, sending them spinning in fiery circles as she had done once in a king’s palace, careless of the fears of the ones who watched her. Ilbran could judge her mood from that. No memories troubled her. She had taken the child’s game for her own. But then he caught the look of strain on Kare’s face, and spoke sharply. “No!”

Andiene let the stones fall, quenching their witchfire in the cool earth. “I am sorry.”

Kare looked from one to the other in puzzlement. Andiene saw it, and there was a look of grief on her face for a moment, before she turned suddenly away. Her pack lay where she had unslung it. She opened it and pulled out the collar of lacework that she had knotted through the long summer. “Kare, this is for you. No, wash your hands before you touch it. You can wear it on your robe at your second naming.”

Kare ran to the stream, briskly scrubbed her hands with sand, and ran back to take the gift. She held it for a long time, before she folded it and wrapped it in her clean tunic, in the pack she carried.

“Why did you choose this time to give her such a royal gift?” Ilbran asked Andiene later, as they climbed up the slope to find privacy among the cool and tumbled stones.

“I do not know. I was ashamed. I have been thoughtless. Your reprimand, she thought it was meant for her. I wanted to do something that would please her.”

They had reached their destination, a great scattering of stones. Close to a city or village, it would be a place of the dead, but in the quiet mountains, it was put to no such use. The stones were cushioned with thick moss, sweet-smelling when it was touched, like the spices of the south. After a while, Ilbran spoke again of his heart’s desire.

“You could let your plan go, and come with me, traveling north or south, to some land where the king’s men would not know you. Enough silver-haired women live in the north, so I have heard, that you would be lost like a speck of dust in a summer storm. All this time that we have traveled together, you have lived without power and luxury, and found pleasure in simple things. And all you have seen is the hardness of life, forced traveling, traveling wounded, or in foul weather. Truly, it is not always like that. We could find great joy.”

She let him have his say, every word of it, till he had run out of unaccustomed eloquence. Then she gave her answer. “No.”

The word fell into the silence like a stone. The silence stretched on, until she hurried into speech again, more heated, more eager to convince.

“You ought to be with me; you have your own people to avenge. I have my revenge, my kingdom to win, and I tell you, I can sense Nahil’s fear. The smell of it has filled this land and spills over the borders. The thought of me has harried him till he would never let me escape. You cannot run between two duelists and try to separate them, once battle is joined.”

Ilbran reached out and stroked her silver hair, gleaming in the starlight. He had not expected another answer, but still he was grieved. “What is your battle plan? We are still few, even with Kallan’s men. Nahil can send a thousand to meet you on the open plain.”

Andiene laughed. “That is what I intend. That he will send his thousand, all that he