Prophecy, Child of Earth (12 page)

'Why? Why do they hide?"

'Many of them are insane; driven mad by the 'blessing' of immortality. You see, Rhapsody, if they had been immortal from the beginning, it probably wouldn't have affected them so much, but they were humans and Lirin and Nain and the like, extraordinary only in the journey they made. They had already embarked on a life cycle that had a certain course, and it was interrupted, wherever they were in it, and frozen there.

'So imagine being a human who had lived seventy or eighty years, and had passed through all the stages of infancy, childhood, youth, adulthood, middle age, and then finally old age, preparing to meet death soon, to discover that you were going to live forever that way, elderly and infirm." He poured yet another cup of tea and offered the pot to Rhapsody, who had grown quiet in the firelight. She shook her head, lost in thought.

'Children continued to grow and mature, until they reached adulthood, but they never got any older. Some of them are alive still, looking no older than you do. But far more of them died in the war, or at their own hands, just to avoid facing an eternity they couldn't accept, sometimes with powers they didn't understand.

Virtually every First Generation Cymrian took at least a small piece of elemental lore away from the Island with him, whether he knew it or not.

'So that's why I say you may have a problem. If you are a later-generation Cymrian, you will be extraordinarily long-lived, and you will undoubtedly face what others did: the prospect of watching those you love grow old and die in what seems like a brief moment in your life. And if you are a First Generation Cymrian, it will be even worse, because unless you are killed outright you will never die.

Imagine losing people over and over, your lovers, your spouse, your children—"

'Stop it," Rhapsody said. Her voice was terse. She rose from the ground and walked to the edge of the firelight, then tossed the remainder of her cold tea out into the darkness. When she came back she took a different seat, far her away from him, so that he did not have as good a view of her face.

They sat in silence for a long time, Rhapsody watching the smoke from the fire crackle with sparks and rise, like that of a Lirin funeral pyre, to the dark kv above, where it wafted among the scattered stars and dissipated. Finally Ashe spoke.

'I'm sorry," he said, and his voice was uncharacteristically gentle. "I didn't mean to upset you."

Rhapsody looked pointedly over at him across the fire. "I'm not upset," she said coolly. "I am not worried about anything like that."

'Really?" he said, and there was amusement in his tone. "Not even a little?"

'Not in the least," she answered softly. "I doubt I will even live to see the end of what is coming now, let alone forever."

'Ohr" Ashe's tone had a controlled steadiness. "What makes you think so?"

'Just a hunch," she said, reaching for her cloak. She shook the dirt and leaves from it and wrapped it around herself.

'I see. So you would rather die than acknowledge the prospect that you might live forever?"

Rhapsody chuckled. "You really are persistent, Ashe, but not very subtle. Is there actually a point here, other than just trying to determine whether I am what you think I am?"

Ashe leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "I'm just explaining why I could never be interested in someone like Jo; that she has a completely different life expectancy than I do. And if you are First Generation, you will have a very limited pool of others as long-lived as yourself to make a life with, who won't die on you before you have even gotten to know them."

Rhapsody smiled and set about brushing the mud from her boots. "Well, thank you for your concern, but I wouldn't worry. First, I don't plan to marry anyway; I'll make do with my grandchildren as my family. Second, I'm not afraid of time differences. My mother told me when I was very young that the time you had together was worth the loss because without the acceptance of that pain there would be nothing valuable to lose. And, of course, since you know I am Achmed's contemporary, there's always him. Grunthor, of course, is out of the question."

Ashe's voice contained a note of horror. "There's always Achmed for what?"

Rhapsody said nothing, but her smile broadened as she continued to scrape her equipment clean.

'You
have
to be joking. Please tell me you are—that's disgusting."

'Why?"

'I would think that is obvious." Even as far away as he was from her, Rhapsody could feel him snudder.

'Well, of course, that really is no concern of yours, since you're already spoken for. By the way," she said, growing serious, "does she mind that you're here? You know, for such a long time?"

'Who?"

'Your—well—whatever she is. I assume she's not your wife, since you said you're not married, I think. Actually, you didn't say that, did you?" Receiving no reply, she tried lamely to finish the thought. "You know, this woman you're in love with? Is this journey causing a problem with her?"

'No."

Rhapsody exhaled in relief. "I'm very glad. I do try to make a point of not causing problems with people's relationships, especially married people. I have great respect for the institution."

'Then why don't you intend to marry?"

Rhapsody got up again and began to spread out her bed roll. "Well, it isn't really fair to marry someone unless you have a heart to share with them, to love them with. I don't have one, you see. It wouldn't be right."

'I don't believe that."

'Suit yourself," said Rhapsody, crawling into the bedroll. "Anyway, thank you for being honest about my sister."

'Just out of curiosity, why do you call her that? Obviously you're not related."

Rhapsody sighed. "I can't believe you don't understand that, Ashe. There are different ways to make a family. You can be born into it, or you can choose it.

Bonds to family you choose to be a part of are often as strong as those you are born into, because you want to be, rather than have to be, part of each other."

On the other side of the fire Ashe was unpacking his own gear, settling into his watch. "I'm not sure that's true."

'Well," said Rhapsody, lying down and trying to get comfortable, "I guess it depends on who you are. They aren't mutually exclusive—your love for both can be equally strong. But that's why I have so much respect for the institution of marriage, because husbands and wives choose each other out of everyone else in the world, and therefore ought to be accorded the acknowledgment that this is the most special relationship of their lives."

From across the fire came a sound that was half-chuckle, half-sigh. "You really have led a sheltered life, Rhapsody."

Rhapsody thought for a moment about answering, then decided against it.

"Good night, Ashe. Wake me when it's my watch."

'Had you ever thought about just doing it the regular way?"

'Doing what?"

'The grandchildren process?"

'Hhmm?" She was almost asleep already.

'You know, finding a husband, having children, letting them have the grandchildren—is this a concept you're familiar with?"

Deep within the bedroll he heard a musical yawn. "I already told you," came the sleepy voice, "I don't expect I'll live that long." f)n the night he woke her as her watch came due. She felt him shaking her gently.

'Rhapsody?"

'Hmmm? Yes?"

'It's your watch. Do you want to sleep a little longer?"

'No," she said, pulling herself free from the bedroll. "But thank you."

'You didn't mean what you said earlier, did you? About Achmed?"

She looked at him foggily. "What?"

'You would never, well, mate with Achmed, would you? The thought has been churning my stomach for the last three hours."

Rhapsody was now awake. "You know, Ashe, I really don't like your attitude.

And frankly, it's none of your concern. Now go to sleep." She made ready her bow and arrow, and stirred the dying fire, causing it to roar back to life, finding fuel from some unknown source.

Ashe stood above her a moment longer, then the shadows on the other side of the fire took him. If she hadn't been watching, Rhapsody would not even have known where he lay.

>v hen dawn came the next day they rose in heavy mist that blanketed the forest. It burned off quickly in the light of the rising sun, and they set out on what they knew was the last leg of the journey.

Midday they came to Tar'afel River, the child of the same waterway that carved the canyons of the Teeth uncounted millennia before. It bisected the forest lands of northern Roland, forming an unofficial boundary between the inhabited and generally uninhabited woodlands.

The Tar'afel was a strong river, wide as a battlefield, its current swift. Rhapsody walked to the edge of the woods and watched it, roaring in fury and swollen with the rains of early spring. She glanced back at Ashe, who had made a quick camp and was preparing the noonday meal over a small campfire.

'How much of this is floodplain?" she asked, pointing to the riverbank and the grassy area between it and the forest.

'Almost all of it," he replied, not looking up. "It's over its banks a bit now. By the end of spring the water will be up to where you're standing."

Rhapsody closed her eyes and listened to the music of the rushing river. Her homeland had been bisected by a great river, too, though she had never seen it. She could tell that the current was uneven, faster in some places than others, and by listening to the variations in tonal quality she could almost plot a map through it, finding the sheltered spots. After the meal was over she would put the theory to the test.

They ate in companionable silence, the noise of the water drowning out the ability to converse in anything but a shout. Rhapsody found herself forgetting

'My refusal wasn't clear to you?"

'No. I mean yes. There's no excuse, except, well, perhaps it's just a natural impulse, you know—I mean—I'm sorry. I was just trying to help." His words ground to a sheepish halt, under the fury of her eyes. They were blazing, green as the grass, and they held none of the ready forgiveness she had so easily extended for other rudenesses she had suffered in the past.

'Men have used the excuse of natural impulse to justify many things they did and wanted to do to me. Make no mistake, Ashe—I swear by whatever is holy in this unholy place that before you or anyone else takes me anywhere or in any way against my will, one of us will be dead. This time I think it would have been you."

'I think you're right," he said, rubbing his chin.

'But it wouldn't matter even if it is me who dies. I'll not be taken in any way against my will. Not by you; not by anyone."

'I understand," he said, but he didn't, not fully. The degree to which she was upset flabbergasted him; her face was as red had he had ever seen it, and she was angry to a degree she had never been, even in battle.

'I'm sorry," he said again. "Tell me what to do to make amends." "Just stay away from me." Her face began to cool, but still she glared at him as she walked to the water's edge, looking across. He could tell she was calculating something. Then she sheathed her weapons, turned and left the riverbank and began to walk south again in the direction they had just come. She paused at the edge of the floodplain.

"Well, you've cost me some valuable gear."

'I don't know what you mean," Ashe said. "It hasn't been injured—you can see for yourself when we get to the other side."

'I won't be going on with you. We part company here." "Wait—"

'You can sell it when you get back to Bethany, or wherever it is you're going,"

she said, walking away. "Perhaps it will pay for your time serving as guide.

Goodbye."

Ashe was dumbfounded. Surely she was not so offended by this that she would abandon her quest and her musical instruments over it—yet there she was, rapidly disappearing into the forest. He ran after her, struggling to catch up.

'Rhapsody, wait—please, wait."

She drew her sword again and turned to face him. She no longer looked annoyed, just guarded. And there was a look of resignation on her face that he had never seen before; it twisted his heart, though he had no idea why.

He stopped, leaving a respectable distance between them, and pondered the extremity of her reaction.
Men have used the excuse of natural impulse to justify
many things they did and wanted to do to me
. Dismay knotted his stomach as he began to suspect what she might have meant. He felt sick as he contemplated it.

Never in his life before had he been at such a loss for words, so unsure of what to do. She had a way of unbalancing him, and had from the moment he had first met her in Bethe Corbair. He cursed his own stupidity and tried to think of what he could say to win back her trust.

Ashe got down on one knee on the ground before her. "Rhapsody, please forgive me. What I did was stupid and thoughtless, and you have every right to be angry. If you'll just come back I swear to you that I will never touch you again against your will. Please. What you are looking for is too important to give up just because you have an idiot for a traveling companion."

Rhapsody looked at him with no real expression on her face, saying nothing.

For the first time Ashe could not read her thoughts by looking into her eyes; they were closed to him. Anxiety was beginning to choke him, and though he displayed no outward sign, he felt that if she were to abandon him and her mission that he might die right there for lack of a good reason to go on. He knew that she had no personal investment in this undertaking, that her motives were altruistic, that walking away would be easy; her obnoxious sovereign back in Ylorc would be thrilled. At the edge of his consciousness the dragon in his blood berated him mercilessly, but it was no worse than what he was saying to himself.

Finally she dropped her eyes and sheathed her sword again. She made no gesture toward him, but located a large stick the size of a quarterstaff and walked directly back to the river. She tested the depth of the first area she had guessed was sheltered by the rocks of the riverbed and the pattern of the current, and found that it was, in fact, shallower. She turned and gave Ashe a measured look.