Mirror of the Sea: The Magic of Miraven, #2

PROLOGUE

She hovered above the falls, unseen, watching the beautiful young man bathe. But sometimes, she dropped so low that the spray covered her face and her half-parted lips in a fine mist. She was glad of the water; it cooled her burning cheeks.

He couldn’t see her, of course. But still she felt, instinctively—though no one had ever told her so, how could they? —that it was wrong. Wrong to watch this splendid creature splash and laugh to himself in this pool by the waterfall. Her waterfall, until a short time ago, anyway. Then he had discovered it also and had begun coming here in secret, leaving his magnificent horse tethered in the glade. 

Her wings were becoming tired, so she perched upon a flat rock. Watched, aching with admiration, as he plunged into the green pool; waited anxiously until he resurfaced, his long hair plastered back against his skull. Later his hair would float in the summer breeze as he lay back against the sun-warmed grass, closing his eyes in the way of a weary child. It would dry in rich brown waves that she longed to, but dared not, touch.

She sighed, and he turned his head in the direction of the falls. His grey eyes narrowed, and he cocked his head to one side, listening.

Like a wary animal, she thought. Then he turned away, sluicing the icy water over his face, gulping it noisily from his cupped hands; and she breathed again, disappointed, and relieved at the same time. 

What if he did see her? Would he utter the same startled cry she had heard each time someone else had first laid eyes upon her? Perhaps he would shake his head in disbelief and turn away, muttering an incantation against demons, as one coral-robed priest had done? Or, infinitely worse, would he lunge forward in a sudden movement, and try to seize her wings?

Why did they do that? Didn’t they know how horrid it felt? Especially when they grasped at her feathers with their hard, hurtful hands. It was as if they loved and hated her wings at the same time.

She resettled herself on the slippery rock. Her haunches burned from crouching so long, and her bare feet were numb with cold. Shifting, she glimpsed herself in the corner of the pool behind the rock. 

She had gazed into this pool many times, trying to see what the others saw. Beholding, as always, the cloud of black hair, in curls so fine they seemed more like down; her wide-set eyes—who knew what colour they were, in the watery reflection of the green pool? —and her chin, too pointed, thrust forward defiantly, at odds with her mouth, soft and always a little down-turned, as though she were ready to weep.

Her form, whenever she stood upright, seemed to her much like that of the ground women, except that she was so small—the size of one of their children. She was very brown from the sun and the wind, of course, and the ground women prized their delicate skin—at least those who could afford to stay in the shade of their stone villas. But she was no darker than one of the peasant girls whom she watched on the restless summer evenings when her loneliness was hard to bear.

If she dwelt only on her face and her sun-bronzed form with its bunched little muscles, she could pretend, almost, that she was one of them. Could dream that she walked among those maids, with the same careless laughter as they; threshing barley together, skirts tucked into their aprons, limbs flashing in the dusk. 

She could be like them, were it not for her wings.

They were tucked in tight against her back, recovering from the long effort of hovering behind the falls. She stretched them out as she squatted, her bare toes clinging to the slimy rock. She must be patient, for he would not be here much longer, and who knew when he would come again?

The young man had finished his ablutions now and, after a few more dives in and out of the water that were pure frolic, he stepped reluctantly out of the pool and walked back to where his clothes lay in the dappled sunshine at the edge of the glade. He dressed in slow movements, glancing back at the pool several times; in his gaze, as always, was a baffling intensity.

It was as if he was leaving the only happiness in his life. His eyes—grey as the clouds caught on the mountains just before the first thunderclaps—glistened as he gazed at the still green pool.

This time he looked even sadder than usual as he stood there in his black riding breeches and white shirt that was not yet buttoned across his broad young chest. So sad, she could have wept. 

And so, before she could think to stop herself, she leapt from the rock, arms flung out, an inarticulate cry of love and pity wrenched from her lips.

His own cry of astonishment echoed off the rocks. She rose a few feet from where he stood, wings unfolding behind her. For a moment, their eyes locked. Then—horror-struck at what she had done—she turned, stretching her wings out much wider than she would have had she not been so panicked. Gasping with the effort, she flew almost straight up to the top of the trees, so that she could escape the quickest way.

He called out something to her as she flew, his voice faint. Her heart pounded in her ears and her wings beat frantically about her shoulders. But she heard it, nevertheless.

That night, she sheltered in a tall fir tree, staring out at the pinpricks of light that were appearing in the sky’s deepening dark. She was happier than she had been in a long time. As she fell asleep, she cradled two thoughts in her mind, turning them over and over like shiny stones.

The first was this: he had not tried to seize her. He was not like the others. The second was an even greater gift.

No! Wait! he had called, in a rich deep voice that reverberated from her scalp to her wingtips. His first word to her—an unexpected gift she would cherish always.

Nowait. She would take it as her name.

PART I

CHANGING TIDES

CHAPTER ONE

Tannys heard the men coming from a long way off, but she did not deign to turn around, although she knew by their heavy, loutish tread that they were soldiers.

Not that it would have been a good idea to move anyway, with her shoulders and arms covered with bees. Although the creatures would never harm her deliberately, the sight and sound of strangers sometimes made them unpredictable.

Even more so would the acrid scent of fear—coming from the soldiers, not Tannys. She had not been afraid of anything for a very long time.

Nevertheless, she knew it was imperative to keep herself as still as possible, slow her breathing and movements, for the bees were becoming agitated by the thudding boots half a league down the mountainside. Clumsy brutes, soldiers, even the best of them. How did they ever manage to sneak up on each other and wreak the terrible, comical havoc that they wrought? They were so noisy!

Of course, her ears were very sensitive; she had lived alone on this small mountaintop for many flower-carpeted summers, with few visitors and no neighbours except for the bees. 

Tannys sighed, walking on the balls of her feet the last few steps back to the creek, knowing she would not quite make it before the men burst into the clearing. I must practice patience, she thought. The gods had told her nothing these past years on Mount Valdistan, if not that.

But often these days, it seemed she had less patience than ever. She shrunk sometimes even from the respectful villagers of Valdistan, despising their noise and haste and their thick, obdurate questions. 

This was unfair, because they had not been given the gifts that she had—everything that was necessary to cultivate a clear head and a tranquil spirit. 

The thin, achingly pure mountain air, brilliant hues of the alpine flowers—mustard yellow, coral orange, melon pink, lavender—and their heavenly scents. Even better was the company of the bees and the gift of their song; for it was a song, though most others didn’t hear it—a song of the world and all its creatures, from the beginning to the end. 

Therein lies the problem, Tannys thought. She had the song, and there was little need for anything else…

Tannys reached the creek just as the men emerged into the small patch of meadow behind her cottage. They were three in number, she knew, although she only heard two sets of simultaneously uttered exclamations.

Be quiet, she commanded, standing with her arms outspread and her back to them. Or, I promise, you will be sorry.

Immediate silence followed, save for the questioning drone of the bees along her arms and hands. She buzzed low, tongue against her palate; and then murmured in human language, reassuring them. Being careful not to vary in the slightest from her routine, she knelt by the creek, at the yellow rock, the one she had chosen long ago as her shrine—or shrines—for the rock was split down the centre, forming two perfect halves. 

What cracked it? Lightning, perhaps. She had sometimes wondered, but idly, for it did not matter. The shrine was perfect for worshipping two deities. 

Tannys dipped the fingertips of her left hand in the swiftly flowing water and sprinkled droplets onto the rock halves. Then she bowed her head and spread her arms out wide, sweeping them downward first, toward the sea, where the god Tiden dwelt. And then, in an act of what was considered to be blasphemy, she held them upward, toward the sky. 

The bees lifted themselves like a living cloak from her shoulders, arms, and hands; and when the last of the humming yellow and black mass had left her, she cupped her hands and drank.

She heard the soldiers clumping like curious boys toward her. 

Look, one muttered while she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, look at them bees! 

Another man swore an oath, being careful to whisper.

Tannys stood, glancing at the swarm as they lined both sides of the stream to drink. To her, the sight was commonplace, for she and the bees had quenched their thirst together every morning for thirty-nine summers. To the soldiers, however, it must have seemed bizarre, and would lend credence to the rumours circulating the village of Valdistan—and beyond—that she was not only the Seer of Walwyn, but an enchantress, as well. 

At last, she turned to look at the soldiers.

They were all astonishingly young; but then everyone seemed so to her now, Tannys thought, tugging on her long white braids with rueful fingers. Two of them had broad, coarse faces, with the oft-broken noses and low foreheads of the fanderols, looting soldiers who had plagued the island villages of Walwyn for so many years. Locusts the villagers called them, with contempt. 

The third one—who had not yet spoken—looked different. Glancing at him, an intuitive thrill ran through her, that here was someone who mattered. She could tell by his eyes.

They were grey, set wide-apart beneath his high brow, and with lashes so thick and long they could have belonged to a painted temple girl. But Tannys had been a legendary beauty in her youth and schooled as a temple dancer. She had mingled with the loveliest creatures, boys and girls, ever glimpsed by those in the royal court at Larkan, or any of the lesser islands. Beauty alone did not beguile her.

No, it was not the glamour of his eyes that caught her; it was the way they moved: narrowing and widening, as if to absorb the scene before him in its entirety, to bind it to him forever. They missed nothing, those eyes. 

Tannys continued her covert observation of the grey-eyed young man as she spoke, addressing group in a low, pleasant voice. Holding her hands in front of her, palms down, glancing at the bees in a pointed suggestion that they keep their tone low and pleasant as well.

You have walked a fair distance this morning, she observed. Will you take some refreshment?

The heaviest of them stepped forward. He had to be the campanah, for he wore the temple emblem of command on his cape—a porpoise carved in green moss-stone. 

Fingering it, he cleared his throat, eyes darting to the creek where the bees still drank. Why is it they do not sting you? he asked. Is this part of your magic? We know you are the Seer, but no one said anything about—

This is no magic, Tannys interrupted, smiling. We have simply become friends, the bees and me. We have an arrangement, you see—they give me honey, and I give them a home. She gestured toward the bee-house, which looked like a small wooden shed or a large wooden box. 

The men’s brows furrowed in unison, all except the grey-eyed one. He nodded his head as if he comprehended her invention and approved. Despite herself, Tannys flushed with pride. She looked at him directly for the first time. Building this was easy once I understood what was wanted. There must be a hand’s breadth of space between the combs, and so that was how I placed the boards. That way, I can detach the combs and remove them one by one, without disturbing the whole hive.

You have made a replica of the dwelling they would choose. He spoke in a slow, courteous voice that betrayed his breeding.

Tannys nodded, thinking, He could be a prince.

As if sensing her scrutiny, the young man flashed her a smile, showing blackened teeth. 

Clever. But she was cleverer, for she had seen it was betel juice, rubbed on the front teeth, while the back ones were white and strong. You should know better than to try to fool old women on mountain tops, she chided him in silent amusement.

But why bother? the campanah with the dolphin on his cloak grumbled, chafing at the imposed quiet. Can’t you just smoke them out and take the honey, as we have always done?

Spoken like a good soldier, Tannys snapped, before she could stop herself. The men stared at her, and she softened her voice. There is no need to kill the bees to take their honey. This way, they give me their harvest, sparing me the need to search for ever more hives and honey. So, it is worth all the trouble it takes to become friends with them. Besides, she added, tartness creeping back into her voice, it is more desirable than making enemies who might return to sting me when I least expect.

The burly campanah glared at her. There could be little doubt she was referring to the recent raid upon the main island of Walwyn by its neighbouring island, Dressek, in retaliation for the purported theft of a shipment of tin.

Officials protested they had paid for it. But the raid had been efficient and successful, both in recapturing the tin from the Walwyn Harbour where it lay heaped, and in securing reparations to Dressek, when the accusation turned out to be true. King Cephus was irate, both at the thieves and at his soldiers, for failing to secure the harbour. 

This matter would be an obvious sore point with the soldiers of Walwyn, and even a half-mad old woman living on a mountain would know it. 

Tannys grinned back at the campanah, unrepentant.

The silence was broken by the grey-eyed young man, who burst out laughing, his rich young baritone something to rival the singing of the birds.

And the bees did not seem to mind it either, loud as the laughter was. A wonderful sign. Tannys could hear them humming, speculating about the visitors, and she knew they had singled out the grey-eyed young man as an object of particular interest. 

This entire morning was, in fact, turning out to be very interesting.

No honey, then? Tannys pressed, Or buttermilk?

None, the campanah retorted. We are here on the king’s business.

Ah. The bees had been telling her this for days, but she had not listened. Hadn’t wanted to. What does the king want with this old woman?

He wants your advice, Lady Tannys, the campanah said in a stiff voice, on a matter of urgency.

Aren’t all kingly matters of great urgency? Otherwise, the kings wouldn’t trouble their kingly heads about them, would they?

The grey-eyed young man laughed again. The campanah’s eyebrows drew together, but he said nothing, while the other young soldier—whose teeth really were black—looked at the ground. 

He has given himself away even more, Tannys thought with delight. A campanah would never have tolerated such insolence from one of his own men. The grey-eyed young man was someone powerful. 

As he stood there in the sunshine, his finely sculpted head thrown back in mirth, Tannys thought again that he could be a prince. And then looked at him again, hard.

Please excuse my soldier, the campanah broke in, his voice almost a growl. The thin mountain air must make him giddy.

It happens all the time, Tannys assured him. Look at me.

Here, the eyes of the young man met hers with a twinkle of complicity. Tannys had a surge of triumph which rather surprised her. She had not felt so strongly about anything for longer than she wanted to remember.

Your secret is safe with me, she wanted to say. Of course, it must’ve been safe with the soldiers, as well. Tannys wondered fleetingly how many silver kubars it had taken to buy their silence. Though it would not matter how many, not to him.

The campanah cleared his throat, looking annoyed. If I may state our business, then perhaps we can get off this mountainside before your creatures decide to make a meal of us.

Tannys sat on a low stump, moving a honey bucket aside. Go on. 

The king requests you come to the palace in great haste. We will escort you.

I thought the king was in Dressek, Tannys said, making amends for the tin burgling incident.

He was in Dressek, the campanah replied, loftily ignoring her last remark, but now he is back in Larkan, awaiting word of the Seeking Ship.

What? Her heart sank, down, and further down. The Seeking Ships were the pride and joy of King Cephus. They had set sail to explore new lands, including the one that Tannys had beheld in her very first vision almost forty years ago. But there had been another, more recent vision, which made her wish she had never spoken of that land.

She saw the grey-eyed young man’s eyes now shone like silver.

We have sighted one of the Seeking Ships, the campanah told her, speaking the words with the weight they deserved. "They have returned. Or at least one of them has. The Adrias has not yet docked, but it is close enough to see the flag signalling they found land."

And soon we will hear all about the country of Miraven. The grey-eyed young man’s face glowed with excitement. You prophesied this!

Seeing his enthusiasm, Tannys expelled her breath. She closed her eyes, listening to the hum of the bees as they flew in single file, orderly as soldiers, back into their little house. The campanah flinched as they went by, too close for his ease. The bees sounded smug, almost. 

We told you. Their voices came to her in the wordless sound pictures they used.

It is as you foretold, the young man repeated, his voice tinged with awe. They recorded it in the Palace Transcripts!

And you are in the habit of reading scrolls in the Palace Transcripts, soldier? Tannys asked him. The Transcripts were not accessible to the general populace. Realizing his mistake, he flushed, and for the first time the campanah smirked.

Well… Tannys knew her voice sounded sombre, but she could not help it. I was right about the existence of another land. Hurrah! But we have not confirmed the name yet. And my visions seldom show me the complete story. When they do, it is not always wise to share it. And let me ask this: Where is the other Seeking Ship?

An uncomfortable silence followed. 

No doubt it is close behind, the campanah said at last, in a brisk tone. The king will inform you of everything according to his discretion. Our job is to escort you to Larkan. It will take us six hours if we leave now. That is all.

They did not know what had happened to the other Seeking Ship. But unless they were fools, they had to be uneasy. A bitter thought came to Tannys. Do I need this trouble, now, in my old age? 

And suppose I choose not to go? she asked.

The campanah’s sun-weathered face blanched, and he exchanged uneasy glances with the soldier beside him. The grey-eyed young man was looking at her with new respect.

For the campanah was caught, as the saying went, between the net and the sea monster’s jaw. No doubt they had instructed him to treat Tannys with courtesy, and his fear of her magical powers made him reluctant to risk incurring her wrath. Yet he would face the wrath of King Cephus if he did not return with her. Age had probably not improved the king’s fiery temper. 

And well do I know that temper, Tannys thought. And well did she also know his softer side. Few others could boast as much.

Tell my old friend Cephus, she said at last, that I will assist him in whatever way I can. 

The campanah’s shoulders relaxed. But you can tell him that yourself. 

No, Tannys’ voice was sharp. I am not about to let you drag me off like a goat on a tether. There are preparations I must make—seeing that my animals are cared for. Meditating before my shrine, asking for blessing…

But this is important! the other soldier burst out. News of another land—

It is not news to me, Tannys replied, as you may have gathered. Therefore, I lack your sense of urgency. Tell King Cephus that I will be at the palace in two days, and in the meantime, to do nothing. That includes heeding his military advisors. 

The grey-eyed soldier listened, his face intent, and she knew he memorized her words.

Thank you for your offer of an escort, sirs. And now I must take my leave. Even the morning heat is too much for an old woman like me. At this time of day, I prefer to sit in the shade and have a cold mug of buttermilk.

She turned and walked back to the small stone cottage which had housed her in these many years of self-imposed exile. She wondered if these men knew King Cephus had sent his finest masons to build it, and that for ten years afterward, had also sent messengers toiling up this mountainside with private scrolls addressed to her. 

Scrolls which Tannys had tossed into the fire unopened, watching the sea-green wax of the royal seal hiss and sputter in the flames.

Even if they knew, they did not care about things which had transpired so long ago. They were young, and for youth, the past did not exist—or the future. Only now. 

And now everyone in the Island Kingdom of Walwyn was a-stir with excitement and apprehension, because one of the Seeking Ships had returned. 

Unfortunately, Tannys had to go and tell them all why this was a reason not to rejoice, but to fall on their knees and weep. As she had warned before. They would discover this by the time she got there. Which, truth be told, was another reason for her to create a delay. She had sent a scroll detailing her vision months ago, before the ships had departed; but the king had refused to take it seriously. Must the Seer—the harbinger of doom—also be present to greet the doom when it arrived?

Let someone else do it. What more did the gods want from her?

Her feet dragged as she walked, limbs feeling as cumbersome as the logs which lay felled in the alpine forest behind her cottage.

Wait! The grey-eyed young man’s voice came behind her. 

Tannys turned, shading her eyes from the glory of the sun. At that precise moment, its rays seemed to stretch themselves forward like fingers, a glow of benediction on his head and shoulders. Or a crown.

When he spoke, there was a note of authority in his voice that he did not now bother to disguise.

We shall look forward to seeing you in Larkan, Lady Tannys.

Tannys nodded, swallowing the tears that rose in her throat, and pushed through her doorway into the welcoming coolness within.

CHAPTER TWO

It was well toward evening before Tannys felt a small measure of peace creeping back into her mind. The soldiers’ visit had shaken her more than she wanted to admit.

The only excursions Tannys had made from the mountain in the past forty years had been to Valdistan Village, at the base of the mountain. Once every full moon, she’d brought to market earthenware pots of honey, beeswax candles, buttermilk, and cheeses; she’d returned with cloth, needles and thread, flour and barley, and any other essentials she could not make or grow herself. 

News of the realm returned with Tannys as well, of course, although often she was reluctant to hear it. She was always back before nightfall, leading her patient, sure-footed donkey Knox behind her, and shifting the burden on his back occasionally to ease the load.

Now, she would be going away for a longer time, much longer than she wanted. She had known it from the moment she had heard the heavy tread of the soldiers.

Such lugubrious thinking could only be permitted for a few moments, and then Tannys took herself in hand. It was never much use to rail against the changes wrought by life. Better to go with the tide. Sometimes the changes even brought peace, for a time.

Who would have thought, for instance, that when King Cephus stood young and straight as the grey-eyed young man—who was surely his son and heir—that she, Tannys, the dancer and courtesan whose almond eyes and round hips had shaken an entire court, would one day live an austere, solitary existence atop a mountain, and happily at that?

Tannys finished her preparations for bed. In the growing dusk she lit a candle and sat on the floor among flickering shadows, thinking of the other preparations she had to make for departure. They were few enough, despite what she had told the soldiers. She would take the goats into the village and give them to a widow with three very young children, who would be ecstatic at the extra milk and cheese. Knox, she would lend to the club-footed carpenter who had so kindly repaired her roof last winter. Everything else could stay as it was until she returned. 

Except for the bees.

Saying farewell to the bees would be the most difficult thing of all. She hoped to return, but one never knew… 

At this thought, Tannys had a yearning to see them. Taking her candle, she walked the well-worn path from the cottage to the bee-house, scuffing the dirt with her bare feet. In two days, she would be forced to don shoes. She had never liked shoes, scorning them even in her dancing years. 

Tannys smiled. She had not thought of those years in a long time—why now? Because soon you will see King Cephus, who once loved you, a mocking inner voice replied.

Ignoring the voice, she opened the door to the bee-house. Utter silence greeted her when she entered. There was nothing unusual about this. Twilight was a drowsy time of day. But this was a waiting sort of quiet.

Of course, Tannys thought. The bees knew she was leaving, just as they had known about the soldiers. Perhaps they were wondering why. She should try to explain. Folding her hands before her and closing her eyes, Tannys was about to speak when she heard a small sound behind her. 

Turning, she realized in a flash that the bees had not been waiting for an explanation. There was a visitor, and they were waiting for her to notice. It was the little maiden with the wings! Tannys held her breath, fearing to exhale, lest the lovely apparition disappear. 

She had seen