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pied mare s knotted stomach burn. Lie down, my child, her dam bade her.
Tek s legs buckled like shafts of old, dead wood. Her cold-locked muscles ached in the musty warmth
of the cave. She had forgotten to shake off in the entryway, felt the snow on her beginning to melt. Lying
down beside her, her dam passed a warm, rough tongue over Tek s shaggy coat, stroking her dry.
The pied mare closed her eyes. Her mother had changed little in the years since Tek had last seen
her coat still a brilliant mallow red such as no other unicorn possessed. Much about her mother set her
apart, the healer s daughter mused. Jah-lila s black mane stood upright along her neck instead of falling
silky to one side. Long, silken strands sprouted the whole length of her tail, not just at the end. Hers were
a beardless chin, untasseled ears, and fetlocks unfringed with feathery down.
But most of all, Jah-lila s black hooves set her apart. They were oddly round: solid and uncloven, not
like Tek s own split hooves not like the divided hooves of other unicorns. It was those hooves Tek
remembered best from her fillyhood. She had never realized how unique they were until she had followed
her mother to the Vale and first seen the cloven heels and bearded chins, tasseled ears, fly-whisk tails,
and fringed fetlocks of others of the herd.
Tek stirred, uneasy. Why had the Red Mare done so? Why abandoned her weanling to Teki s care
and returned to the solitude beyond the Vale? Tek tensed, remembering how as a tiny filly little older than
Lell, she had overheard the vicious whispers of her Vale-dwelling fellows, hissing that Jah-lila was not
and could never be a true unicorn, since she had not been born among the herd, but in some far,
unimaginable place. Red Mare. Renegade. Magicker. Tek s eyes came open with a start.
Eat, Jah-lila instructed, nudging a heap of sweet-smelling fodder toward her.
Eagerly, Tek champed at the withered grass. Unpalatably dry at first, it soon grew sweet in her mouth,
more savory than rueberries, sweeter even than beeswax and honey. The trickling of water nearby
reminded her that her mother s grotto housed a spring. Thirst overpowered her. With an effort, she rose
and followed the sound. The tiny stream at the back of the cave tasted warm compared to the frigid
snow outside. In summer, she knew, it would have tasted cool. She drank deep.
Rest, child, her mother murmured as Tek returned. You need rest badly now but do not sleep.
You must not sleep until certain herbs for which I have sent arrive.
Sent? Tek scarcely knew what her mother could mean. Had the Red Mare acolytes, as her father Teki
now had? All the Vale herself included had long believed Jah-lila lived alone, without companions.
I, Tek started, stopped. Despite herself, her eyelids drooped. Sleep dragged at her. Her womb felt
lifeless, her thoughts a blur. Jan is dead, she managed. Gryphons killed him. We pledged to one
another at courting time& .
Peace, her mother soothed. My dreams have already told me. I know that you are in foal to Jan and
that the king runs mad for grief. I know that Sa, who sheltered you, is dead.
Tek stared at her, eyes wide suddenly. In truth, her dam s powers must be greater than she had
guessed. The magicker smiled.
Rest easy. Last night s blizzard has sealed the Vale. None of Korr s minions may pursue you now till
spring.
Tek felt a surge of relief. A great heaviness had settled on her. Fatigue washed over her in waves. She
wanted only to sleep. A sudden smarting brought her out of her doze with a jolt. After a moment s
confusion, she realized the Red Mare had nipped her. Forgive me, the other said firmly, but I am in
deadly earnest. You must not sleep until the healing herbs arrive. Meanwhile, my dreams have brought
me other news which may serve to keep you awake: they tell me that at the grey mare s funeral this day,
Korr means to declare himself the Firebringer.
Tek turned to stare at her. Firebringer? she exclaimed, her grogginess fading for the moment.
Alma s chosen prophet?
Aye, Korr will usurp his son in that office as well though the marks upon his brow and heel be only
smears of white lime.
Despair swept over Tek. What did any of it matter anymore?
Let him call himself the Firebringer if he will, she murmured dully. Who shall contest him Jan?
Dead. Sa, dead. Dagg, lost. I and my unborn, forever banished.
Jan is not dead, Jah-lila corrected gently. Your mate lives. This, too, have I seen in dreams.
Tek started, stared, heart suddenly pounding.
What are you saying? she demanded. Jan& Jan alive?
The Red Mare nodded. Alive, but captive many leagues from here. A race of two-footed sorcerers
holds him in the city where I was born a hornless da so many years ago.
My daughter stared at me as we lay side to side in the luminous warmth of my ghostlit grotto.
The tiers of mushrooms and lichens lining the walls glimmered faintly, casting a moving pattern of
light across her rose and black markings. Wild hope and confusion and disbelief played similarly
across her face. Her fatigue seemed, for the moment, held at bay by the prospect of learning of
her lost mate. I had hoped as much.
Da? my daughter murmured, frowning. What is a da?
The daya resemble unicorns, I told her carefully, measuring her, though they live much
briefer lives. Most are dead by the time a unicorn beareth her second foal.
Memory of that long-past time and far-off place recalled once more to me the da dialect of my
youth, and I slipped into it now as easily as blinking. Tek lay watching me intently, hungrily.
Daya have no horns, nor beards, nor tufted tassels upon their ears, I continued, nor fringe of
fine feathery hair around their fetlocks. They are mostly dull brown in color. Their manes stand
upright along their necks. Their tails are full and silky, their hooves great solid, single toes.
Still Tek gazed at me. They sound like what legends in the Vale call renegades, she began,
those creatures unicorns fear to become if we break the Ring of Law, becoming outcasts& .
She choked to a halt. I nodded.
Aye, daughter, they sound very much like me, for though I now bear a horn upon my brow,
I ve no beard as thou hast, no eartip tassels, no fetlock feathers. My mane standeth along my
neck, and my hooves are uncloven. Nonetheless, I am a unicorn of sorts. And I was a unicorn [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]