Children of the Dawn by Patricia Rowe Page B

make it into the fine village that it was meant to be.”
    Tor knew there would be problems, stresses in learning each other’s ways, in understanding each other’s thoughts when words
     weren’t understood. Some of the Tlikit would not easily get over resentment that the Shahala had come and chosen to live in
     the place they thought of as theirs. Many things would have to be worked out in the coming days…
    Like what to do about the four women who never left a crude shelter against the trunk of the oak tree, unless it was to tend
     the fire. It took a while, but Tor realized where he had seen them before: They were the forest women he and Elia had spared
     long ago. They were slaves now. Tor was disgusted, and his people would be too when they realized what slavery meant.
    He saw how hard it would be for Ashan to take control without being able to talk to the Tlikit people. Only three knew both
     languages: Tor, Tsilka, and Elia. The boy would go along with him. As for Tsilka, he would have to keep her wings pinched,
     like a bug that a man didn’t want dead, just flightless.
    Night settled on the river village. The slaves made the fire large. Tlikit women offered more food. With full bellies, people
     settled into quiet talk with others of their own blood—the Tlikit on the downriver side of Teahra Village, the Shahala on
     the upriver side.
    Tor had to return to Ashan. He’d left her for too long with only his little sister and some magic rocks for protection.
    But first, he must deal with Tsilka, the she-cat he should have resisted, but to his regret had not—long ago, many times,
     loving to the rhythm of the river—
    Tor told Tsilka to come with him. She eagerly agreed, must think he wanted to make love. He refused the hand she offered.
     Walking up the riverbank in silence, they came to a flat-topped boulder with its bottom in the water. They had once spent
     time here, looking at the hills beyond the river, talking about what might be on the other side.
    Tor sat down, remembering too late that a rock can hold memories for a man and give them back again, whether he welcomes them
     or not. This rock offered memories of love-making that should be forgotten. He put all that out of his mind, watching Teahra’s
     fire flicker in the distance, listening to Chiawana’s murmur.
    Tor spoke in Shahala, the language that Tsilka had once been eager to learn.
    “We were lovers, but not in this life.”
    “What a strange thing to say.”
    “It’s true. The life we had is over. Ashan is my life now. If you ever tell her about us, I will have to kill you.”
    Tsilka looked straight into his eyes. The firelight made sharp shadows on her face. Her look was one she’d give a stupid child.
     Her voice wasn’t fearful, or desperate—as he’d expected—but sneeringly confident.
    “It’s not over, Tor. It will never be over.”
    “Look, woman, I’m telling you—”
    “You wait here,” she said with a toss of her head. “I will show you.”
    She got up and headed off toward the village. Tor thought how good her naked bottom looked retreating in the moonlight—all
     round and firm. He thumped his head, and the unwanted thought fled. Would he never get control of that part of himself?
    He drummed his fingers on the rock. Tsilka had better hurry. He was anxious to be with Ashan.
    Tsilka strode toward him out of the night, pulling two reluctant children. She stopped before Tor. They hid behind her.
    “Girls?” he asked stupidly—in the moonlight, anyone could see that the naked toddlers were female.
    Tsilka pulled them out by their arms, and thrust them at him.
    “Your daughters, Tor. Our daughters. While our mingled blood flows in their bodies, it will never be over between us.”
    “But I never knew!”
    “That makes them no less real.”
    Tor’s thoughts tripped over themselves.
    Twins. Creatures of heartbreaking beauty no taller than their mother’s knee.
    He blurted, “Do they know who their father is?