failed to inherit at least some of her family’s witchery. In truth there were other roads he could have chosen, but this was something he’d wanted to see for himself. All his doubts might have been laid to rest if she’d ridden on by without a second look.
She turned slowly, studying the empty ridge. “Are we being watched?”
“Some say the realms of earth and sky meet here – and this is where our ancestors wait to guide the living when they need help.”
“I was told those were tales for children. I used to wish so hard they might be real… Here, I feel as if they could be.” She turned to Weaver. He realised he’d never seen her smile properly before, not an unguarded response like that.
Her smile faltered. “You don’t believe in it?”
“I believe what I can see for myself.” He dismounted. “If you look over to the west you’ll see our destination.”
Hills tumbled away before them, rising from a broad wooded plain punctuated with pockets of farmland and scattered settlements. Beyond that, in the distant haze, stretched a grey ribbon of apparently flat ground.
Alwenna raised one hand to shade her eyes. “Is that the sea?”
“That’s right. Vorrahan’s lost in the haze, but on a clear day you can see the precinct buildings.”
“I’m not sure I should believe you, not by your philosophy. Not until I can take up the water in my own hands.” She turned away before he could decide if she was teasing him. “There’s water nearby.” She walked back along the ridge, one hand still shading her eyes as she searched the sloping ground to the west. Her cloak billowed in the breeze, hinting at curved contours beneath the heavy fabric. She moved with an air of certainty, a vital being in a timeless landscape. She hadn’t been like this at court. Now it was his turn to gape like a slack-jawed peasant.
Alwenna turned downhill, moving with purpose to a clump of reeds. Weaver had an uneasy sense he ought to call her back. She knelt down and reached out, parting the reeds with her hands.
“I knew it. There’s a spring here.” She cupped her hands and scooped up a mouthful of water.
Everything stilled: the wind dropped, even the trilling of the skylarks ceased. And, without so much as a murmur, she slumped over onto the ground.
Alwenna and Tresilian sat at the foot of the cherry tree, their backs pressed against the trunk, fallen blossom littering the ground around them.
Tresilian flung a pebble against the orchard wall. “It doesn’t matter whether it’s a good crop or not, I won’t be here to pick them.”
Alwenna paused in sifting the petals between her fingers and twisted round to look at him. “Why not?”
“I’m to go to be taught by the brethren at Vorrahan. Father told me last week.”
“You didn’t tell me.” She scooped up another handful of the blossom.
“He said it didn’t concern you.”
“Because I’m a girl, or because I’m an orphan?” She threw away the blossom she held, glaring as it floated to the ground.
“He didn’t say.” Tresilian threw another stone after the first. It hit the wall with a sharp clack, dislodging a small shower of lime mortar. “There was something else too, but he told me not to say anything to you.”
“Oh.” The syllable was laden with indifference.
“I’ll tell you if you want.”
She shrugged. “I’m really not bothered either way.”
“It’s about you, so I think it’s only fair you should know.”
“You’d better tell me then.” She sketched a circle in the blossom with her finger. “I won’t tell, promise.”
“He says we’re to get married.”
“What?” She sat up and knelt where she could see him clearly. “That’s ridiculous.”
Tresilian frowned. “Not till we’re older, of course. I don’t think it’s such a bad idea. Better than marrying some foreigner who can’t speak a word of the language.”
“There’s more to it than that, though.”
“Like what?”
“Well, having
She turned slowly, studying the empty ridge. “Are we being watched?”
“Some say the realms of earth and sky meet here – and this is where our ancestors wait to guide the living when they need help.”
“I was told those were tales for children. I used to wish so hard they might be real… Here, I feel as if they could be.” She turned to Weaver. He realised he’d never seen her smile properly before, not an unguarded response like that.
Her smile faltered. “You don’t believe in it?”
“I believe what I can see for myself.” He dismounted. “If you look over to the west you’ll see our destination.”
Hills tumbled away before them, rising from a broad wooded plain punctuated with pockets of farmland and scattered settlements. Beyond that, in the distant haze, stretched a grey ribbon of apparently flat ground.
Alwenna raised one hand to shade her eyes. “Is that the sea?”
“That’s right. Vorrahan’s lost in the haze, but on a clear day you can see the precinct buildings.”
“I’m not sure I should believe you, not by your philosophy. Not until I can take up the water in my own hands.” She turned away before he could decide if she was teasing him. “There’s water nearby.” She walked back along the ridge, one hand still shading her eyes as she searched the sloping ground to the west. Her cloak billowed in the breeze, hinting at curved contours beneath the heavy fabric. She moved with an air of certainty, a vital being in a timeless landscape. She hadn’t been like this at court. Now it was his turn to gape like a slack-jawed peasant.
Alwenna turned downhill, moving with purpose to a clump of reeds. Weaver had an uneasy sense he ought to call her back. She knelt down and reached out, parting the reeds with her hands.
“I knew it. There’s a spring here.” She cupped her hands and scooped up a mouthful of water.
Everything stilled: the wind dropped, even the trilling of the skylarks ceased. And, without so much as a murmur, she slumped over onto the ground.
Alwenna and Tresilian sat at the foot of the cherry tree, their backs pressed against the trunk, fallen blossom littering the ground around them.
Tresilian flung a pebble against the orchard wall. “It doesn’t matter whether it’s a good crop or not, I won’t be here to pick them.”
Alwenna paused in sifting the petals between her fingers and twisted round to look at him. “Why not?”
“I’m to go to be taught by the brethren at Vorrahan. Father told me last week.”
“You didn’t tell me.” She scooped up another handful of the blossom.
“He said it didn’t concern you.”
“Because I’m a girl, or because I’m an orphan?” She threw away the blossom she held, glaring as it floated to the ground.
“He didn’t say.” Tresilian threw another stone after the first. It hit the wall with a sharp clack, dislodging a small shower of lime mortar. “There was something else too, but he told me not to say anything to you.”
“Oh.” The syllable was laden with indifference.
“I’ll tell you if you want.”
She shrugged. “I’m really not bothered either way.”
“It’s about you, so I think it’s only fair you should know.”
“You’d better tell me then.” She sketched a circle in the blossom with her finger. “I won’t tell, promise.”
“He says we’re to get married.”
“What?” She sat up and knelt where she could see him clearly. “That’s ridiculous.”
Tresilian frowned. “Not till we’re older, of course. I don’t think it’s such a bad idea. Better than marrying some foreigner who can’t speak a word of the language.”
“There’s more to it than that, though.”
“Like what?”
“Well, having
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