Waterdance Read online

  Waterdance

  Anne Logston

  Published by Mundania Press

  By Anne Logston

  Shadow

  Shadow Hunt

  Shadow Dance

  Dagger’s Edge

  Dagger’s Point

  Wild Blood

  Greendaughter

  Guardian’s Key

  Exile

  Firewalk

  Waterdance

  Waterdance

  Copyright © 1999, 2013 by Anne Logston

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  Cover Art © 2013 by Niki Browning

  eBook ISBN-13: 978-1-59426-978-3

  Trade Paperback ISBN-13: 978-1-59426-980-6

  First Mundania Edition • October 2013

  Published by:

  Mundania Press

  An Imprint of Celeritas Unlimited LLC

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

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  To my husband Paul, who puts up with my hours and my moods

  —and to Jeff,

  who trusted me with the truth and didn’t laugh too hard at my poetry.

  Chapter One

  Crossing the border of Agrond, riding to her doom, Peri thought wistfully that the Bregondish plains knew no shame.

  The hot, harsh wind known as Mahdha, the Breath of Bregond, blew through the razorgrass, stirring it to a sibilant rustle and sucking away the sweat from Peri’s neck. The hard-packed earth of the road still managed to raise puffs of dust at the horses’ and wagons’ passage. Somewhere to the south, a hawk cried in triumph that meant death for some other creature.

  And that, Peri thought with a sigh, says it all. No hills, no trees, no rivers. No secrets, no politics, no compromise; everything straightforward, just life and death and get on with your business. Mahdha, blow me away from here, let me ride with you at my back—

  She glanced over her shoulder at a familiar sound. Her cousin was hanging out the window of the carriage again. Vomit spattered into the dust.

  “Uncle?” Peri called. “May we stop for the night? Kalendra’s sick again.”

  Terralt, riding on the other side of the carriage, gave Peri a weary I-know-what-you’re-up-to look, but turned his horse around, holding up his fist to signal a halt. He rode around the back of the carriage, glanced at his daughter’s ashen face, and sighed.

  “All right,” he said. “We’ll make camp here.”

  Peri fought to keep from bouncing in the saddle with joy. She touched her bow when Terralt glanced her way again.

  “Uncle?” she asked eagerly. “May I—”

  “Oh, go on, then, Perian,” Terralt said crossly, waving her away negligently. He turned away to help Kalendra down from the carriage.

  Peri hurriedly kneed Tajin to a gallop before her uncle could demand that she take a guard escort. This close to the Barrier garrisons, there couldn’t possibly be any danger, but her uncle Terralt would never believe it.

  The caravan’s proximity to the garrisons and the Barrier had another effect, however—there was little game to be found. By the time Peri startled up a small herd of lopas, she’d nearly run out of patience—not to mention time—before her uncle, alarmed at her absence, sent guards out looking for her. Despite Peri’s surprise when the lopas scattered into the grass, Tajin’s speed and her skill with her bow were more than equal to the lopas’ swiftness; her first arrow barely missed, but the second brought the plump buck down cleanly. Peri had time for another shot, but refrained. One buck was all they could use (and all Tajin could carry), and Bregond did not honor the greedy.

  The buck was indeed large and plump, heavy enough that it would certainly slow Tajin significantly. Peri considered bleeding and gutting the animal, then shook her head. The blood, mixed with herbs and grain and the chopped liver, would boil in the lopa’s stomach to a rich and hearty dish.

  Why, it was her betrothed’s favorite meal—

  Not her betrothed anymore. That thought took all the joy out of Peri’s kill. By this time next month, her cousin Kalendra would be wed to Danber, and Peri—

  “Well, it’s your own fault,” Estann had said sympathetically, sitting on Peri’s bed while Peri packed. “If you were determined to have a barn-loft tumble with Stevann’s apprentice, you shouldn’t have gotten caught.”

  “We didn’t get caught,” Peri said sullenly.

  “Didn’t get caught with hay in your hair and your skirts up around your waist, you mean,” her older brother said wryly. “At least there’s that, I suppose.”

  “I didn’t—” Peri bit her lip. It had happened in Loris’s room, not in the barn loft, and they’d both taken their clothes off properly, but that was beside the point.

  “I don’t see what’s so terrible,” Peri said hotly. “You were younger than me when you had your first lover.”

  “That’s different, and you know it.” Estann had, in fact, celebrated his Awakening when he was thirteen, two years younger than Peri herself.

  Isn’t that just like my family, Peri thought bitterly. My older brother has his first tumble and Mother and Father throw a festival. I have my first tumble and my life is ruined.

  “Anyway,” Estann said triumphantly, “what would Danber think?”

  “Nothing at all,” Peri retorted. It was true, too. Her best friend and betrothed had actually suggested that she—ah—acquire some experience on her own, since his own interests lay—well—elsewhere.

  Of course, Estann didn’t know that; nobody did, which was the point. Lord Danber would be utterly disgraced in Bregond if it became known that he was a lover of men. He’d trusted Peri with his secret when they were much younger, and together they’d planned their betrothal. It had worked admirably. The High Lord and Lady of Agrond were more than delighted to pledge their daughter to the boy who would be lord of the largest horse clan in Bregond. Lord Danber would have his respectable marriage. And Peri would have the horse clans, the plains of Bregond, discreet lovers if she wanted them, the companionsh
ip of her best friend, and time and opportunity to refine her swordsmanship to perfection.

  Tajin knelt on Peri’s command, and she wrestled the lopa up, pulling the tie straps taut with a little more violence than necessary. A month ago she’d had everything to look forward to. Now what did she have? A miserable hint of magical talent awakened by her one and only tumble, far too little magic to do anything useful with, but more than enough to swallow all of Peri’s plans and spit her back out into High Lady Kairi’s neat, orderly, and utterly stifling castle. That’s what she had.

  Oh, and the memory of one awkward and rather disappointing night with Loris, of course.

  Tajin struggled to his feet, and grunted under the added weight when Peri mounted; she made no effort to press him beyond an easy walk. Despite her uncle’s inevitable lecture, she was in no hurry to return to camp.

  “My sister has never named her heir, and her advisers are pressing her to do so,” High Lady Kayli said with that unshakable calm Peri always found so infuriating. “Your aunt Laalen has never been strong enough for such duties, and Danine—she has never been whole in spirit since the war. Kairi can train your water sensitivity while she prepares you to rule Bregond.”

  “I thought mages had to be trained while they were still virgins,” Peri had said sullenly. “Besides, Aunt Kairi can’t school me in healing, so what are you going to do about that?”

  “Kairi keeps a healer at the castle to attend your aunts Laalen and Danine, and that healer will assist in your education,” Kayli said implacably. “Yes, it’s true that training traditionally begins well before you are Awakened. But because of the minor extent of your abilities and the nature of your talents, there should be no danger.”

  “In other words, what you’re saying is that I don’t have enough magic to be of any practical use either,” Peri retorted. “If I weren’t the High Lady’s daughter, the best I could hope for would be work as a dowser or a midwife. But if there’s no danger, then there’s no reason I shouldn’t just go ahead and marry Lord Danber, is there?”

  “There is only one,” Kayli said sternly. “And it is this: You have an obligation to use your gifts and abilities, no matter how minor, in the service of your country. Water magic is rare in Bregond, and your water sensitivity gives you an affinity with your aunt. This is the manner in which you can best serve Agrond and Bregond.”

  Kayli took Peri’s hand in both her own, and Peri couldn’t help wincing when she saw the old burn scars dappling her mother’s hands. Kayli had earned her scars with no less effort than that by which Peri had earned the sword calluses on her own fingers or the hard, wiry muscles in her shoulders and upper back.

  “I was glad to see you make an advantageous marriage of your own choosing,” Kayli said gently.” I was overjoyed that it was to be with your friend, and in Bregond. I know you have a vocation for the sword, and I know that in Bregond it’s easier for a woman to pursue those studies than it is here. I wanted you to have more choice than I did. But Kairi must have an heir, and the opportunity to give her one of my children, of mixed Bregondish and Agrondish blood, is too good to pass by. Your father and I thought it would take several generations to bind the two countries together, but with Estann on the throne here and you in Bregond, it could well happen during your reign. The people of Bregond will accept you because of the years you’ve fostered in the horse clans, and they’ll see the Awakening of your water sensitivity as a sign. Even half of Agrondish blood, even born in Agrond, they’ll accept you as Heir.”

  Peri made a sour face, her fingers clenching in Tajin’s mane. If she worked hard enough at it, she might one day actually manage the most elementary water scryings. Her healing ability likely would amount to even less. If only she had kept her foolish mouth shut when she’d felt the rainstorm approaching from the east, or when her chambermaid, Arese, had mistaken indigestion for pregnancy.

  But she was mage enough to feel an instinctive awareness of the Barrier not far to the north, like an itch she could not quite reach to scratch. If she stood in the saddle and squinted hard, she could see the faint shimmer of the strange magical wall that had guarded the border of Sarkond, allowing no magic to pass between the two countries, since not long after the war. She knew her uncle could feel it, too, as they rode west, parallel to the Barrier, and since his own mage-gift was every bit as uncontrolled as her own, albeit probably much stronger, he doubtless found it just as irritating. Small wonder he’d been in such a foul mood lately.

  And, as Peri learned when she made it back to camp, his mood had undergone no improvement in her absence.

  “There you are!” Terralt said angrily. “I was just about to send the guards out to look for you.”

  “I’m sorry, Uncle,” Peri said with as much repentance as she could muster. “Tajin was tired and heavy loaded.”

  “So I see.” Terralt examined the buck, then gave Peri a smile of reluctant approval. “He’s a beauty.” He waved to one of the guards, who reached for Tajin’s reins.

  Peri clung to them stubbornly.

  “I’ll take him over to Cook,” she suggested. “Then I’ve got to rub Tajin down.”

  “No, you’ve got to wash up and help Kalendra settle in,” Terralt said implacably.

  “Sparring after dinner?” Peri bargained.

  Terralt sighed.

  “Perian, I’ve been riding all day,” he said patiently. “I’m too tired for swordplay. Why don’t you wear out Captain Dorran instead?”

  “Captain Dorran’s not nearly as good as you,” Peri said disappointedly. That wasn’t true, not exactly, but Captain Dorran invariably pulled his strokes with her, and besides, flattery almost always won her uncle over. “What about first thing in the morning, while everybody’s striking camp?”

  Terralt gave her an impatient glance, then shook his head at last, chuckling.

  “All right. First thing. Now go take care of Kalendra, and make sure she eats a good dinner. The Bright Ones know her breakfast will be all over the road within an hour after we leave tomorrow.”

  Peri found Kalendra huddled on her pallet, surrounded by maids—one fanning her, one waving a vial of scent under her nose, one chafing her wrists, and two more just generally fussing.

  “Go on, go on,” Peri said irritably, waving the maids away. “Get me a cold wet cloth, a hot wet cloth, and the ginger-mint tea Cook will have ready for you. Kala, sit up. I told you a hundred times, it’s worse if you lie down. And I told you to keep your bodice loose if you—”

  “Bright Ones, Peri, I’m dying,” Kalendra moaned. “Don’t be cross with me, please.”

  Peri took Kalendra’s hands and pulled her upright, then sighed. It was impossible to stay angry in the face of Kalendra’s misery.

  “All right, then,” Peri relented. “Lean your head forward.”

  By the time the maids returned, Peri had loosened Kalendra’s laces and was rubbing the base of her skull just below and behind her ears. She took the steaming-hot cloth and draped it abruptly over the back of Kalendra’s neck, eliciting a startled yelp; as soon as the cloth started to cool, Peri whisked it away, replacing it with the cold cloth, and Kalendra jumped again, then subsided.

  “Oh, Peri, warn me next time,” she said, shivering.

  “Better?” Peri asked.

  “Better,” Kalendra admitted, accepting the cup of tea and sipping it. “Thank you, Peri. It always works, though the Bright Ones alone know why. If I’d known traveling would do this to me, I’d have asked Stevann for some real medicine.”

  Behind Kalendra’s back, Peri made a face. Real medicine. She’d never be a real mage like Stevann. Just enough of one to ruin all her plans.

  “Now, tomorrow, don’t lace up tight like that,” Peri said patiently. “Nobody’s going to see you anyway. And when you start feeling sick, hum.”

  “Hum?” Kalendra laughed. “Really, Peri! What has music got to do with road sickness?”

  Peri sighed and stood up. She couldn’t explain to her cousin
how it was that she knew that Kala’s nausea came not from her stomach, but from someplace deep down in her ears; moreover, Kala would never believe her anyway, even though Peri’s suggestions gave her relief. Yet Kala would unhesitatingly drink whatever potion Stevann might have given her, never asking what herbs it contained.

  Leaving Kala to her maids’ tender mercies, Peri gratefully joined her uncle at the guards’ fire. She and Terralt had argued about that briefly the first night; in the horse clans everyone sat as equals around the fires, but among the landed nobility of Agrond and Bregond alike, it was scandalous for an unmarried girl of noble birth to sit at the fire with men, much less common guardsmen. But since Kalendra and her maids preferred to keep to their tent, it was ridiculous to kindle a separate fire for Peri alone, as Peri had patiently pointed out. Besides, before this journey Peri had spent much of her free time with these same guardsmen, sparring with them or just sitting around companionably tending their weapons. Terralt, who disliked the company of commoners, was probably far less comfortable (and, if the guards admitted the truth, less welcome) at their fire than Peri herself.

  “Ah, welcome, Per—ah, Lady Perian,” Captain Dorran said, glancing apologetically at Terralt. “That lopa’s a good fat one. Cook’s got the liver for y….” Then his voice trailed off again confusedly, and Peri grimaced.

  Captain Dorran was Bregondish, and Bregondish custom dictated that the liver of a kill went to women of childbearing age. But Peri, soon to begin training in magic under High Lady Kairi, wouldn’t be bearing children for many years, most likely. So the choicest part of Peri’s kill, like her betrothed, now went to Kalendra instead. As if Kalendra was likely to appreciate either one!

  Peri grimaced. Suddenly the prospect of a jovial evening around a campfire seemed less appealing. She forced a friendly smile.