Ollo Rinth Tiacrono Alferia
Alferia flashed a nervous smile, and looked down Into her glass of wine, which was once more full. Surreptitiously, not wishing to drown In the waters of drunkenness, she spilled it on the wool Of the chair, which would not, she thought, stink. The magewinds would clean it before any would think To notice the smell, or even see the stain and frown. The magewinds insisted Summerfire be beautiful.
The feast around her went steadily on, With jokes and amusement and loud drunken laughter. Alferia wondered how the drunk would feel, come dawn, But they didn't seem to think of what came after. They laughed, and they drank, and they contested In competitions at which Alferia could not have bested Them, though she had dueled on Auda-lawn. These were feats that raised magic to the rafters
Of the skill that Alferia had known, and past them. They called upon the magewinds; they called upon Forces that rode on the magewinds' hem. The air would glow white as a new-landed swan, Then turn to something thick and gooey like water. Alferia told herself she was the rightful Lady's daughter, And should not be startled when a chair a gem Transformed into, or she smelled the scent of dawn.
But she was uncomfortable; in Summerfire, The wild magic lay like a welcome cat everywhere. These people used it to fulfill their least desire, Taking drinks from trays that skimmed the sheer air, Casual as if they had never suffered anything tragic. Alferia had been trained to hate the wild magic, But here it was, tamely lifting the drunkenness higher, And working to keep Summerfire clean and fair.
The feast in her honor was in a courtyard Paved with smooth flags without a crack between. Here the air made soft music instead of a bard, Music that was lit with soft flashes of blue and green. Alferia did not know yet if the flashes were winds, Or something small and shiny to dragons akin. Her eyes flinched from each scintillating shard, And she found herself seeking, instead, the unseen.
What currents moved Summerfire? What made The lords and ladies grumble, or tilt their heads, Or wear filmy shifting clothes of an uncertain shade, Or go silent when a certain word was sung or said? If I could only make out the meaning of each wink, Alferia thought, I would know how they think. This was part of the task on her by her lady laid. But to such nuances the Friefdermia seemed dead.
If she were to say something with a subtle meaning, They treated it like some obscure complex joke. If she made a motion that would set intrigue scheming, They took it, and made it to amusement yolk, And sent it whirling like a magewind-born flash of light. (Alferia thought she guessed those flashes' origin aright). They seemed content and calm beyond her dreaming, As if they did not in corruption and hatred soak.
Well, there was one thing- but it meant badly. Alferia noticed they all carefully watched Derlian, Reacting at once if he looked about sadly, Racing as if to alleviate some unmentioned pain. They would make a joke to cause him to smile, And then the whole assembly, at least for a while, Would go back to talking and chattering gladly, Until the next subtle frown upon his face lain.
If they protected him like a prize horse, Then how was she to ever get near him at all? Alferia drank a little wine- it seemed the best course- And watched Derlian lean near the wall, His glance darting swiftly from place to place, Always alighting, for some moments, on her face, But also reeling to track some invisible force, To make sure his winds were not letting a tray fall,
Or perhaps commit some other unfathomable crime. Alferia rose to her feet and made her way forward. The faces whirled past her to laughter's chime, And Alferia casually took the hilt of her sword. It would be so easy for someone in this crowd To kill her before she could cry out aloud. She made her way over to Derlian in good time, And bowed low, to the smile of Summerfire's lord.
"You need no such formality, my lady, with me." Alferia smiled at him from beneath her lashes, And wished, as she replied softly and sweetly, That her pride and honor were not choking in ashes. "Then stop calling me by my title, O Lord of Flame. Alferia and not 'my lady' is my name." Derlian laughed softly. "I tend to always use formality. Some would be shocked-" He stopped, but flashes
Of excitement bounded through Alferia at the look That had briefly but perceptibly taken his face. She leaned beside him in his sheltered nook, And sipped her wine, conscious of her grace, And the way that his eyes followed her every move. Speaking gently, as if anxious his fears to soothe, She said, "I am sure that you are an open book To those who know you well in this place."
Derlian took a deep breath, and touched his hair. Alferia looked up, and saw a brief flash of light In the red strands that told her magewinds were there. She took a deep breath and continued, still slight In her criticism, as if she did not realize That Derlian bore a problem hidden from most eyes. "My lord, you have a very good home, great and fair. No troubles ever come here, do they, to alight?"
Derlian smiled, and his green eyes ablaze Shifted back into something more like a mortal's. "Oh, the magic tries. Some of the tales would amaze You." "But they don't come through the portals?" Derlian shook his head. "I am Summerfire's defender." "A good one, to keep your city in such splendor." Derlian, thought Alferia, something in you wild plays As the wind blowing in the homes of immortals.
"And sometimes," said Derlian, confirming her guess, "I would do anything to be away from here, and free." Alferia assumed an expression wide-eyed and artless. "Is there someplace else you desire to be?" Derlian glanced at her, and his face shut down. Even his red hair stilled, again a motionless crown. "Be elsewhere, and leave my people defenseless? How could I truly do such a thing, my lady?"
Alferia was determined not to let this go. She smiled, and said, "Alferia. Didn't I tell you?" Derlian laughed, a laughter so sweet and so low That Alferia thought, Can I truly fell you? Then she chided herself for such a sneaking thought. Not in this man's traps must she be caught! You have come here to wreak a revenge slow, She thought, not to let him bespell you!
Derlian nodded and said, "Yes, that you did. I am sorry for mumbling on about such things, But it sometimes boils me so I cannot keep it hid." Alferia smiled. "Then give your words wings. Let them fly out into the air; perhaps then They will not fight you like goats in a pen." "A good suggestion, my lady. And truly, a lid On such a boiling pot in the end the water flings.
"Very well. I want to leave Summerfire." Alferia let her eyes widen in pretended dismay, While her brain raced. "That is your desire? To turn your back, my lord, and run away?" "If I am to call you Alferia, I am Derlian to you." But then he sighed. "That accusation is true. No Lord since the time of my distant sire, The one who founded the city, Frief Derme,
"Has ever wanted to leave his people alone. But my heart calls me on to other realms. I want to see expanses of bare and boundless stone, The Starspikes crowned with their icy helms." Derlian clenched his fists; his eyes burned. Alferia blinked. How hopelessly he yearned! "Is it a crime for which I must atone, That I long to see forests of rowans and elms,
"Or the Ice Forest that I have read still shines Like a sculpture of the gods in the Waste? There are times when I wake up, times When I feel that I must depart in some haste, As if, were I not to pass Summerfire's gate That morning, I would meet some horrible fate." Alferia sighed. "And no one else in you divines The truth of this secret? No one else has faced
"Your desires?" Derlian gave her a bitter smile. "Oh, yes, they have faced it, and they fear It as they have not feared for a long while. They would do almost anything to keep me here. They tempt me with jokes, delicacies, and tunes, And how beautiful the gardens look in the moons. My only option would be to leave as an exile. But my people have made it most clear
"That they do not wish such a thing." He turned, And out across the crowd struck his blazing glance. Seeing it, Alferia thought his people unburned By shining flames by the most miraculous chance. She opened her mouth to speak, and heard a change In the music. Derlian's smile grew almost strange. He said, as to her once more he turned, Holding out his hand, "My lady, do you dance?"
Or, if you like, on to the seventh canto.
Or, if you want, back to the fifth canto.
