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Secrets and Illusions 0
Secrets and Illusions
By Jessica E.M. Connelly
Secrets and Illusions 1
Jessica E.M. Connelly
56 Brigantine Circle
Plymouth, Ma 02360
508-224-7002
108,683 words
Editor‟s Note
Over the last few years there has been an increased demand for materials
on Mirane Damaskaya and Jimareteal Tearisia, or Xylvan, in Grythian, Sian, and
Darung languages; especially primary documents, as the market is already
saturated with speculative pieces; even at the most academic and scholarly
levels. I cannot promise the reader that this work will not present as equally
speculative, for it will make several difficult to believe assertions.
First and foremost of these is the authenticity of this document. The
mystery of Prince Jimarateal‟s unfinished memoirs has haunted Damaskoi
scholars for hundreds of years and has been as much of a mystery as his ultimate
fate, scholars often believing the two are intertwined. In fact, several forgeries of
this document have been on the market for several generations, created out of a
minimal amount of primary source material and, more increasingly, of popular
folk tales. This document owes both its authentication and provenance to the
royal librarian, Amate Ratha of Queensrealm Xylianth of Prince Jimarateal‟s
fourteenth great niece, the Queen Xylianth of Queensrealm Xylianth. Her
discovery of this document, a mere fragment of the believed quantity originally
Secrets and Illusions 2
written, was a source of great joy throughout the Queensrealm. It was examined
by no fewer than twenty experts who examined the paper it was written on, the
ink it was written with, the language, the references, the handwriting and known
biographical details. There is no doubt as it to it veracity or its author. Footnotes
have been added to confirm certain details and to reference other works.
Once the issue of its authorship is clarified there can be no issues rising
from its content, despite many concerns that Prince Jimareteal had no way of
knowing Mirane‟s thoughts or whereabouts until Mirane spoke fluid Sianese and
accepted its most particular dialect that of shared experience and mental
exchange. This long held assumption is being argued now based on the facts
presented in this document. In addition, it is believed that Prince Jimareteal
wrote these memoirs long after his return to Sian and therefore had his wife‟s
own memories to call upon. Unfortunately, Xylvan‟s recollection of this will
shed both light and shadow on that mystery.
It will be of no surprise to many Xylvan and Mirane scholars that this
fragment is primarily centered on Mirane, as opposed to much of the material
available to the scholar today. No matter how well regarded our national hero
remains today he owed everything in his life to her.
And so it is that we, admirers and scholar, have now what we have
always wished for, the truth. For that, reader, I cannot overstate their
importance in world history but to the casual reader: enjoy this tale as a love
story, a love letter perhaps from a Prince to his own love. That they led our
Secrets and Illusions 3
country into war for the first time in a millennia, that they changed the face of
half the world need not play into your interpretation of their early lives together,
know them as young lovers, or even fictional figures for their legacy cannot be
trusted.
Secrets and Illusions 4
Editor‟s Note
Second Printing
It has been over twenty years and much examination since I wrote the
preface for the first fragment of Prince Jimareteal‟s memoirs. Since then, of
course, the full set has been discovered, as much as we believe might ever be
discovered. Now that we have the entire work, it is clear that this is the first
section that the Prince composed and is of additional interest for that reason
alone. It may be that he believed it to stand alone, for he makes scant reference
to these events in the more complete volumes. Therefore, I have added
additional notes to help reference other works of the Damoskoi and to bring this
rather small incident of this warrior into a greater perspective for the general
reader.
This fragment, which we have published once again in its original form,
represents a small but pivotal winter in Prince Jimareteal‟s life. He always refers
to this time as the most important in his life so we, as scholars, must respect that.
To situate the reader this fragment takes place five years into Xylvan and
Mirane‟s life together. Mirane has both converted to Prince Jimarateal‟s religion
and denied his repeated proposals of marriage. During this time Mirane has
continued to circuit the western borders on her quest to create a secure border.
Xylvan and Mirane have developed their fighting style, integrating the
representative illusion-warfare that he learned at his mother‟s court with her
very exacting and deadly swordplay and brilliant strategic mind.
Secrets and Illusions 5
Shendown
In the small pale light of morning, Mirane stood at the frosty window. Her
muscled body draped in a thin blanket and by the long, heavy, dark chestnut
hair that fell and twisted below her waist. She shivered a little and pulled the
blanket closer to her scarred skin. She looked out across the rooftops of the town
and smiled. Towns like this had always appealed to the small village girl inside
her. She had seen larger cities; they were immense stinking places where the
faces you met told you that before you crossed its limits. She avoided the cities,
even if there were more contracts to be had there. She stayed to the towns, to the
villages, and to the still dangerous borderlands where, she felt, they needed her
most. She dedicated her life to those villages and towns; those who chose to live
far too close to the murderous Darung and those who did not seem to have the
sense to protect themselves. She did whatever she could to teach them about the
danger within miles of their homes whether they believed her or not. She picked
up whatever income she could en route and during the winter when Darungs
stayed in the much warmer north. And now as winter approached she began to
become more and more anxious about finding a job to fund next years‟ tour and
about how many fewer villagers she would encounter after this gruesome winter
ahead.
She turned her eyes away from the town and towards me. I was still
wrapped in the warm blankets of our rented bed. She should not have left my
arms so early; I, very well, might not let her back now that her body had the
Secrets and Illusions 6
morning chill on its skin. She thought about how I loathed cold frozen hands and
feet, how I cringed at snow and desired nothing more than to curl up in a burrow
and hibernate till spring. Long ago she had accepted this weakness in me, I was
not capable of changing. I was of a people who lived far to the north where the
balmy air never fell to a chill. I was a creature of perpetual summer, a species so
far removed from her winter that she barely recognized the kinship of our souls
and the intimacy that the last five years had given us. Regardless, our
differences failed to do anything other than excite her. Our races had so
infrequently met, neither of us were a liability to one another; we were only what
we were. My Sian traits, violet tongue, long woven black hair, long sleek body,
gold liquid eyes, and long fingers were among the most enticing traits she had
encountered. These were her thoughts on that morning, while I slept. I cracked
my eyes open to the bright room and the morning light.
“Good morning,” I said and sat up against the headboard.
“Good morning.” Her eyes did not leave the window or what it saw
beyond the glass. I never asked her what she thought and I never attempted to
read her thoughts. I had learned from the very beginning that I would need to
learn a new way of reading her, the Gryth way of facial expression and voice
intonation. I was never able to learn much. Occasionally, I was comforted by the
fact that no one really knew her; there were no persons close enough to her to
give me insight into her mind. In those years, I knew nothing more about her
than she told me. When she told me anything at all I considered it a gift. She
Secrets and Illusions 7
firmly discouraged questions. And yet, I remained with her for these years. I
loved her. I must have because I would never have tolerated such a secluded and
stubbornly closed mind and soul in my own country. I had fallen in love with
her before I realized that such secretive ways were not the ways of her people,
most were warm and generous and easy to know, but not my love. I loved a
woman of steel, a woman more of blade than flesh. She was a woman who killed
more people than she called friend and whom I could never begin to understand.
Regardless, her every glance reminded me that I was hers. I did not question my
love for her. She was intoxicating.
“Come back to bed.” I said.
“Are you sure?”
“Quite,” I replied. She walked over to me with her bare shoulders and her
long chestnut hair. Chestnut hair was still so exotic to me. I had never seen hair
any other color than black, except for my father who had dark brown, nearly
black. Since arriving here, I had, in fact, seen all shades of red, brown, and even
white and blonde. But chestnut, a color that was red on top of brown, layers of
beautiful color, a color that was so distinctly Mirane, was the color I liked best.1
I reached my arms up around her and pulled her close to me. I kissed her
and rolled her beneath me. I felt more strongly for her than for anyone, no
other woman, no family, no friends were enough of a draw to cause me to leave
1
It is the belief of many Mirane and Xylvan scholars that Prince Jimareteal never intended for this memoir
to be a state document. Many continue to believe that these were a both musings and travel journal. A
secondary theory is that Prince Jimareteal wished to convey a true sense to his family, who may have been
the desired audience of this memoir, of his experience in Gryth.
Secrets and Illusions 8
her. Before I knew her, my family was everything to me. Again I pushed
thoughts of them from my mind, an exercise I performed quite frequently now. I
had Mirane; she was all that I needed. I kissed her mouth. I loved her mouth.
Her cold skin gradually warmed against my skin as her muscled body relaxed
into the bed. Her hair spread across the pillow. I buried my face in the crook of
her neck kissing her and nuzzling her. “I love you.”
“I love you.” She said smiling as she traced her fingers along my spine. I
kissed her neck and across her chest. I could feel her warm breasts against my
cheeks and my arousal jolted hard against her. She reached down for my miake
and gently stroked it, letting it bounce against her hand. I did not know if she
was feeling intimate or playful. I did not care. I caught her hand and entwined
my fingers with hers. I drew it to my lips and kissed each finger and deposited it
on the pillow by her face. I traced my finger along her ribs and her waist; I drew
my finger along the sharp bone of her hip to her folded nyvish and tickled her
hidden yshant. After five years, I knew where to touch her; I knew the secrets of
her nyvoish even if the secrets of her soul remained a mystery to me. I caressed
her, driving her to greater heat. I smiled as she squirmed beneath, thrusting her
hips at me.
“Why do you tease me?”
“Because I love this.” I replied gently pinching her and driving my fingers
into her body. “I love this.”
“Love me.”
Secrets and Illusions 9
Mirane reached down and guided me into her body. She pushed even
closer to me. She tried to bring my body into hers and hers into mine as we
rolled our hips together. Five years had given us each other‟s rhythms, each
other‟s rises and falls. I pushed into her and she gasped with pleasure. I reared
up so I could dive further into her and watch her breasts move with each motion.
Mirane closed her eyes and curled her toes.
“Patience, my love,” I whispered to her pushing into her again and again
giving her no time to breathe.
“Patience.” She exhaled, riding the crest of each wave of her body‟s
internal undulations. Tight muscles clenched and unclenched around my shiyv.
My gut clenched as I spilled it all into her. I groaned in pleasure.
Mirane lay back in my arms and kissed my face with tiny touches of her
lips. I lay back, smiled and touched her face. “I was dreaming of my family,” I
said feeling I could take this opportunity to breach this difficult topic. Mirane
smiled tiredly. I could see that she was fatigued by this argument. How many
times in these years had I offered, how many times had I longed for her to come
with me and how many times had she refused? My family would love her; my
family was based on strong passions and fierce women. If Mirane belonged
anywhere at all, she belonged in my mother‟s house.
“I wish to go see them.” I knew that this was dangerous territory. I did
not understand why but, Mirane had always been dead set against coming with
Secrets and Illusions 10
me to Sian and I could never get her to say why. I watched her shrink from me
and tried not to regret asking. But I knew what was to follow.
“Go then.” There it was, she said it, and she always responded that way,
refusing to accompany me and thoroughly denying, perhaps, she should.
“And what will you do?”
“That really is not your concern.” Mirane answered coldly. She could not
go to Sian; she could not leave her country again undefended. Mirane stood and
crossed the room to her pack.
“It is my concern.”
I cannot go, she left unvoiced.
“Just for the winter.”
I cannot meet them.
“We will be back on the border for spring.”
They‟ll know.
“They‟ll love you.”
They‟ll take you away. She pulled on her legging and her tunic all in
black.
“It will be inexpensive.” It was strange to me to argue about money. I
grew up a prince, I had never wanted anything I could not acquire and yet
Mirane saved every piece we earned to fight her war.
“Then go.”
“I do not want to go without you.”
Secrets and Illusions 11
She took a deep breath. “Do you think if you went, you would return?”
“Of course, we would be back for spring.”
“If you went without me, would they let you go?"
“Who could stop me?”
“Your mother, your brothers…I do not know.”
“I do not know either, my mother would not wish to keep me. My mother
sent me here in the first place. And my brothers, they have lives of their own.
My life is here with you.”
“Your mother put out the nanny decree on your life.” Mirane smiled, it
still baffled her that my mother had the power to protect us everywhere we went
but that no one could protect the people on the border. That is what Mirane
continued to call the Nanny decree. “Mothers protect, has she done anything
like that since?” I defended.
“I do not know. Perhaps she will take one look at you and see that you
have lived too much danger and lock you in a tower to protect you until you
come back to your senses.”
“Perhaps she will take one look at you and send an army to protect you.”
I said with some desperation. Was my homeland some sort of fairy tale place
with princes in towers, to her?
“You joke.”
“Of course, but you do not know my mother and you know we have
nothing this winter, not one hint of a job.”
Secrets and Illusions 12
“That is not true we have Jonko of I-think-I‟ll-take-that-too and friends.”
“That is nothing.”
“We will find something more.”
“Why do we have to? Let us go to the north.”
“Go then, just go.”
“I will not go without you.”
“Afraid I‟ll get killed without your protection?” Her scathing remark was
accompanied by an icy and hard stare.
“Yes.”
“Damn you.”
“Damn you.”
We both left the argument there; there were no further points to be made.
We were both tired of it. I would not go without her. I could not trust her to
remain alive in my absence. She kept herself as a hostage against me. Her life,
her body, her love were held by her alone and I had no control because I loved
her with so much of my own life. Instead, we both dressed and prepared to leave
in search of this sad little bounty and then onto the next sign of trouble.
That was what we did. Mirane was a legend, it was true, and I had heard
them. She was a legend and I was her sidekick.
Secrets and Illusions 13
The Beginning
Mirane‟s fingers seemed frozen solid to the steel blade as she drew it
across the cold, late autumn air. Her opponent, Jonko, leapt forward with his
blade, a long thick piece bought cheap, crashed dully into hers. She had already
taken down his two comrades, but they had been hired to do away with all three
and she was not leaving this man standing. This was the least of the men; he was
not as large or as skilled. She could not figure why he was causing her the most
difficulty. She was exhausted, of course, but there was anger in him that was
giving him the benefit of talent with no skill.
He lunged again and nearly caught her with his poor metal. She cursed.
Where in Sian Hell is Xylvan! She swore beneath her breath, what is he doing?
Mirane foolishly threw her weight at him, she felt her strength at its nadir
and she worried that perhaps something had happened to me. Her opponent
then took the advantage and threw Mirane to the ground. She was able to roll
away from his first blow but the second would have killed her. Instead of
delivering it, however, he stopped and smiled. Mirane felt sick to her stomach,
this was not the smile of a man whose mind was filled, courtesy of myself, with
the fulfillment of his most intimate desires. Instead he reached down and in one
fluid motion grabbed her shoulder, lifted her and slammed her head on the
frozen ground. She saw painful white flashes and then blackness and then
nothing.
Secrets and Illusions 14
I had never seen Mirane lose a battle. She knew her sword as an extension
of her own arm and she had trained it for a lifetime to kill. Frantically, I searched
his mind for anything to use against him but other than vague images of spirits
and spirited women there was nothing. While she fought, I conjured over a
dozen illusions but he responded to nothing, his companions had fallen so
quickly. This had happened before, mostly with individuals who were very
simple. However, if that were the case he should not have been besting Mirane.
I had no explanation, and there was no time to think. I ran to the edge of the
clearing. The man was hovering over her looking at her face. Then he stood and
went to the far end of the clearing. I moved, soundlessly, to a third point and
watched. I waited for the man to see me. Then I spotted Mirane‟s blade lying
strangely apart from her, like a leg broken at a wrong angle, it made me sick. I
nudged it over with my boot and held it behind my back. The man turned
around and saw me standing there.
I scanned his mind and saw all the grotesque and covetous thoughts that
filled his small mind. I did not cringe. I wanted to appear simple and
unthreatening. Only when the fighter realized that the woman‟s sword was
gone did he stop his slow move towards me. I waited for that moment and then
heaved the sword over my head and directly into the man‟s chest. I did not
watch the man die; I rushed to Mirane.
Kneeling by her side, I saw that her breathing was shallow and her hair
was filled with blood. My own heart found a place lodged in my throat, my eyes
Secrets and Illusions 15
filled with tears. I held on to the one driving thought that she was still alive, but
it was clear that I did not move her she would die. I cradled her head in my
hand and lifted her like a child; Her blood ran over my hand and fingers.
I carried her for over an hour stopping only to make sure her heart still
beat and the blood did not flow. There remains no question in my heart that God
looked on us that day. Soon we found a village. The innkeeper asked for no
money, he directed to a room at the top of the stairs. A healer was called in, he
told me that she would recover but I sensed both doubt and fear in him. The
man was afraid of me. That was different. But I used that to ensure his presence
would be nearly constant until she woke. He came and went over those next
days but I did not leave her side for days. My grief at what might have been and
what still could happen consumed me. I prayed constantly. I prayed for her
regained health, I prayed for my own death if she were to die. I prayed that I
would love her so much stronger if she was to return. I prayed that if I could
have her back, if God could see to it that she could be mine…I never finished that
prayer but had I known what I was going to have to do to keep my promises I
might have prayed different words.
Secrets and Illusions 16
Scolar
When Mirane opened her eyes she saw me sitting at a small table in room
she did not recognize. I was quiet and her head was too heavy to call to me.
Without moving she looked around her. The bed was narrow but felt very clean.
The floor had large white patches of light spread by the windows, puffs of dust
hung in the dry air. The room was inhospitable like a Sian comfort station2. It was
no place to spend so long, barely better than staying outside. The windows were
bare and the only light source except maybe the candlestick holder set on the
table.
I looked up from the table and saw that she was awake. I hurriedly stood
and rushed to her. “Mirane,” I whispered but the look on her face seemed to not
know the word. “Mirane,” I repeated, “are you alright?” She did not quite
understand me. I put my hands to her face, which was cold to the touch. I kissed
her forehead and her cheeks.
“Is he dead?” she groaned, it hurt to speak. Do not speak.
“I killed him.” I answered and Mirane closed her eyes. She opened them
again.
“Is he dead?”
2
In far north of Sian where travelers face both extremes of hot and cold temperatures and fierce weather
the North Queen has always sponsored comfort way stations. These fully stocked shelters usually
contained water substites and nonperishable food stuffs, a small sleeping platform, first aid supplies and
oxygen tanks. They were used for life and death situations and were hardly comforting at all.
Secrets and Illusions 17
“Yes.” I smiled. She tried to smile.
“What happened?”
“You hit your head.”
“I did?” Her voice suggested that she were more curious as to why than
how?
“Very hard.”
“Am I alright?” She closed her eyes again and swallowed.
“Do you know your name?”
“Mirane Damaskaya.” I looked at her for a long time, she had never said
that name, she had never whispered it in her sleep, and never had anyone
mentioned it in passing or let it slip in thought. Was she making it up?
“What‟s your name?”
“Mirane Damaskaya,” she repeated, she did not seem to know what she
was saying. I wished she were lucid, of course, if she were though there would
be no disclosure.
“My name?”
“Xylvan.”
“Good.” I lifted her body; a body that was entirely muscle and it fell limp
in my arms. She had no strength. “Thank God you are alive.”
“Thank God,” she whispered, though it did not seem to me that she was
convinced of her own life.
“I will never loose you again.”
Secrets and Illusions 18
“Am I lost?”
“Will you marry me?”
“Of course, you are my love.” My spirit soared, my heart filled, I had
waited for this, wanted this and she said it was such pleasure, such acceptance, it
broke my heart all over again to know, as she slipped again into
unconsciousness, she would forget.
Mirane woke again several mornings later; she sat up and went to the
window. She looked out and saw how small the sun looked, it was already
winter and the hot sun loathed winter and retreated until the summer returned.
Below her, she saw the small town, just a few buildings. The townspeople
outside were tightly bundled. She put her fingers to the glass and felt how cold
it was. She shivered and withdrew from the window. She was tempted to lie
down again and sleep through the morning. She had no strength to waste but
she resisted and tried to get a feel for her body. As she dressed she looked over
her scarred legs and arms and found nothing new. She reached beneath her hair
and felt the wound closing up; it would probably drive her crazy trying to not
scratch at it as it healed.
When I returned from the kitchen I saw that she was awake, “You are
awake.” I entered the room carrying a tray of steaming breads. “And up. How
are you feeling?”
“I‟m sore, how bad was I hit?”
Secrets and Illusions 19
“The healer did not feel particularly confident you would live.”
“What‟d he hit me with?”
“The ground, knocked you on a patch of earth.”
“At least it took the whole planet to get me down.” She laughed half-
heartedly. “Where is he now?”
“Dead. I killed him.”
“How?” She looked both surprised and impressed. I was surprised and
impressed she did not say in that tone, “You?”
“Your sword, I threw it at him. I got him in the chest before he knew what
happened.”
“That worked?” She emitted a small dry laugh.
“Yes.”
“That will not work twice.”
“I‟ll try not to make it my usual strategy. Hungry?”
“Starving.”
“Good.” I put the tray on the table and Mirane sat down and picked away
at it. I was glad she was not trying to eat too quickly.
“How long has it been?”
“Almost three weeks.” I did not want her to see just how concerned I was.
She would not have respected that.
Three weeks, Mirane said to herself. Three weeks. “Where are we?”
Secrets and Illusions 20
“Scolar,” I answered with hesitation. “I‟d never heard of it, until we
arrived.”
“Scolar?” Mirane shook her head. “Does not seem to be very big?”
“It is not much more than just this building, some stables and a worship
temple. I think it‟s mostly farmers.”
“Probably.” Mirane chewed absently on the bread. “Anywhere to re-
provision?”
“Not really. But we‟ll find a place on the way.”
“Well, we cannot stay here too long, we‟ve got to find someplace where
we stand half a chance, at least, of finding spring contracts.”
“We do need to stay a few more days here,”
“Why?”
“I will not leave without the healer‟s clearance.”
Mirane reached behind her head, “alright.” Any hint of an argument died
as her fingers explored her still tender skull.
Mirane recovered quickly over the next few days as it all her mending had
been done while she slept. “I‟m going for a walk,” she said suddenly one day. I
had seen her pacing the floors and I should have tried to distract her. I should
have done many things at that moment, I should have reminded her of her
promise to wed me; I should have taken her in my arms; I should have gone with
her.
Secrets and Illusions 21
“I shall come with you.” I said looking up from the Chuanaha3.
“No, you stay and read.”
“I‟ve read this before,” I laughed and began to put it down, “I will get my
things.”
“Xylvan, I just need a breath of fresh air.”
“You will give the town a scare.”
“It will be good for them,” she quipped, “please stay, I just need air. I
promise to return shortly.”
“I walked the perimeter when we arrived.” I lied.
“No, you sat by my bed and you did not move.” She teased me for my
devotion, for my concern. She leaned over and kissed me. There are moments in
a man‟s life that change the course of it completely. These moments are no mere
forks in the road where choices can be made but are times that you are
blindfolded and spun around and told to walk towards an unseen goal. Such as
when I left my homeland, such as now and I did not know it either time.
“Go then, walk the town, it could not be a safer place for your
convalescence." Mirane walked back over to me and planted a sweet kiss on my
head. It was such a sweet domestic gesture that had she been anyone else it
would have been completely ordinary. I smiled at her.
3
The Sian holy book.
Secrets and Illusions 22
Mirane could see the whole town from the inn steps but it did not stop her
from walking the perimeter a practice that had long since lost its original urgent
meaning and passed into a place more of religion and superstition. She was
never one for the powers of magic over the power of a sword and
swordswoman‟s brain but she walked a protective circle around that tiny town
just as assuredly as a Darung witch walks her spell-circle. Unfortunately for me,
that spell could not keep out what had snuck in years before.
When she returned to the inn she was invigorated by the cold air and
quite energized. Instead of returning to our room as she had promised, she went
to the common room. It was early and she was the only one there. She looked at
the woodwork scrubbed clean and smooth. The room was exceptionally orderly
except one wall that seemed to have been vandalized, of course it was not, it was
merely a prayer wall. She had seen hundreds of them in her life and she hardly
ever read them. But given that her choice was to return to the tiny room we
shared or spend a few more minutes away she decided to read it.
Systematically, she read each of the messages across the top and then the
next row and then the next. Each was a wish, or prayer or other quick note
scribbled in a hundred different scripts.
Perhaps it was like waking from a nightmare, or like a familiar hand
reaching out among strangers but it stopped her just as suddenly and jarringly
when she saw her name. Icy air brushed against her neck and her hairs stood up
on end. “May my beloved wife, Mirane Damaskaya, be retrieved from the men
Secrets and Illusions 23
who stole her from me on our wedding night and that she be delivered back into
the arms of waiting husband and family.” She read it again and again. Each
time it said the same thing; the same, unbelievable thing.
Mirane slowly walked to a small table in the corner of the common room,
her hands curling and uncurling into fists. She sat down and buried her face in
her hands. How many years has it been? She cried inside of herself to think that
her family still searched for her, that they had traveled this far to write messages
on common boards in prayers that she would be returned. Only Mirane, herself,
could answer this prayer, she or God. Tears ran down her fierce face and landed
unstopped onto the bare boards of the table. Mirane let the tears flow as if she
were the wife and child these people once knew as their own.
“God,” she prayed, “how can I bring them such pain, such shame?” How
her prayer was answered that day or on any day I can never know.
Mirane dropped her arms to the table. Scars upon scars ringed her wrists
where shackles had once bound her, she thought of the scars that slashed
through each part of her flesh and that had annealed her into the person she was.
These people, her husband, her mother, her father, were better off believing that
she were dead. She had always believed that. But apparently, they did not
believe it at all. They had not given up believing that she lived. They had
endured these nine years believing she was alive. Mirane crossed her arms
across her chest and wondered what they had done, in addition to writing prayer
walls, to find her. Mirane thought of her own efforts on behalf of missing
Secrets and Illusions 24
relatives. She had known and seen this desperation. She ached for her mother,
her sister, and her father that they felt this pain for nine years. And what of her
poor husband, certainly he would have given up; certainly he would have
married again. Nine years is long enough. Three years is long enough to have
the marriage dissolved in absentia4. And a single night for the single night they
shared is long enough to forget that he was ever married to her.
How could she not have thought of them? During her captivity such a
thought would have destroyed her, but over the past years, why had she not
thought of returning? She knew the answer to the question: shame. She was
ashamed of what had happened to her and she was ashamed to show her face to
them. It was better for them to believe that she was dead.
I wish that I had seen her there, at that table, tears covering her face.
Perhaps she would have confided in me. Perhaps she would have said, „Xylvan
there are things that you should know‟. I know what I would have done. But
that was not her way and I knew that, too. And so, to her, it became very black
and white. She could chose to stay and accept my proposal as a polyandrist, live
4
The laws of marriage in the borderlands in the time of Mirane are a hybrid of secular, Gryth law, local
religious beliefs, and some practical changes to account for living in the borderlands. Marriage is
accomplished by posting three banners of intent on three different days followed by a religious ceremony
with the local priest or if he or she is unavailable the person in the community with the highest rank.
Divorce, or dissolvement proceeds by the same process, three banners of intent filed with the person in the
community of the highest rank, such as a town Lord, and a couple can consider themselves free and clear of
one another. A dissolvement in absentia may be gained when one member of the marriage has been gone
for more than three years with no evidence of death, if the remaining partner files a banner with the town
Lord, usually the only administrator in the village of town. As long as these forms and banners where
properly posted and filed the village would respect them and hold the couple to the appropriate code of
behavior and fidelity. Those who fell outside it would be severely punished. This could include but not
limited to, death.
Secrets and Illusions 25
forever on the edge, and leave her family to suffer their misplaced grief, and her
husband to remain something between a married man and a free widower while
she stayed with me. Or she could leave and repair what has happened and
return free to marry, free to speak the truth. And when that became clear to her,
there was no choice at all.
Only when the first group of patrons began to enter the room did Mirane
find the strength to leave. She stood up and returned to our room.
Had I known what had happened during her walk, had I even suspected
that her impervious exterior had been breached, I would not have said what I
said next. But I knew none of it. “Mirane, I think we should go to Sian.” I said as
soon as she sat on the bedside. I was prepared with many good reasons but she
looked at me with a firmly blank look. She was surprised that I had said
anything at all.
“I‟ll let you know in the morning.” I did not give her any of the reasons;
this was the first time she had not dismissed it out of hand.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes, I‟m fine.” She knew she was lying but she pretended that I was
asking about her health. Realizing, I was not completely convinced, she smiled
and enticed me onto the bed with her. She knew what she must do. How could I
resist her? I kissed her and fell into her warmth. “I love you.”
“I love you.” I kissed her lips again and she smiled. How could I resist
that smile? That smile made me believe that she was the universe. That smile
Secrets and Illusions 26
could have convinced me to do anything and I did not know that it concealed
even more secrets. While we made love that afternoon there was so much I did
not know and so much that I could have done had I known.
Secrets and Illusions 27
Mirane‟s Commission
Mirane woke in the night with a sudden revelation. It was so clear to her
and simple. She would go to them. She would go to them, dissolve her marriage
and reassure her parents that she was alive and then she would return, to me, in
the spring. It may be hard to believe, but this is the way it was with Mirane in
those years. Once a decision was made there was neither need to review it nor to
consult anyone else.
Mirane silently slipped into her boots. I remained deep in my sleep. She
put her meager belongings in her pack and slid it outside. She was so
meticulously careful not to wake me that I could view that as contempt or
courtesy with equal judgment. She looked at me sleeping and smiled. I prefer to
believe that it was not easy for her to leave me, although Mirane‟s
determinedness once a decision was made there were no emotional fragments
left to colour it one way or another.
She did not stop to think about her decision any longer. She crept from
the door and down the street. She walked through the dark common room and
out into the freezing midnight. She had a few hours of walking available to her
before I would notice her missing. She had left a message for me that the
innkeeper could read to me. It promised to meet me here again in the spring, I
was to reserve a room for us. She refused to believe that I might to do just
exactly as instructed.
Secrets and Illusions 28
Mirane left the village and turned west. She would soon have to find a
ride; it was too far to walk with the severe southern winter weather coming. If
she were able to ride half the way it would harder for me to follow her. She had
never spoken of her family and I had no idea where she was before the day I met
her. She hoped I would travel to Sian; remove that obsession from my soul. This
is the best thing for everyone, she thought. This is what he needs, she told
herself.
Outside the protection of the buildings a cold fast wind beat at her. She
pulled her hood up over her face and thanked the Sian god that it was at her
back. By dawn Mirane was tired of the howling wind and the cold light that
lingered on the trees ahead of her. She rested at a small inn just after the sun had
caught fire to the treetops behind her and inquired from the innkeeper about
passage to Kaira, the nearest town to her village.
“As far as I know no one‟s going out there.” He said gruffly not lending
himself to other questions. Mirane turned her back and took a seat. The man left
the room and came back, never asking her to leave. When he returned half a
mark later she approached him again.
“May I have a room?”
“What would you be willing to trade for passage to Kaira?” he asked
suddenly.
“I am a skilled swordswoman, I have taken and completed commissions
up and down this country. I can offer safe travel.” This was the only thing she
Secrets and Illusions 29
could or would offer, for whatever it was worth she was fortunate to live in this
part of the country where it was very necessary. It seemed, at time, barbaric to
me that she still made her living by fighting. To remember my uncle, Juminatwe,
was a lecturer, my father a diplomat, my brother Jonquil was a scholar, a friend
of mine was a quantum particle engineer, my older brother was learning to build
atomic transport gates for long range travel; having my lover be a fighter was
still very alien to me, as if a I had time traveled thousands of years in the past
and was camping there.
“May I rent a room for the day? I need to get a few hours of sleep.” I
need to be very asleep, she thought with some tension.
“Are you terribly tired?” he asked and she shot him a queer look.
“No,” she answered honestly, hoping he would divulge his reason for
asking.
The man said nothing and left the room, she hoped it was to retrieve his
ledger. Instead he returned with a man with light brown hair heavily strewn
with gray. His shoulders where slightly stooped but his clothes were good, clean
and new.
“Is this her?” He asked staring at Mirane and trying to sound tougher
than he really was. She stood up taller and looked at him through the sides of
her eyes.
“I am Mirane.” She introduced herself and took the few steps over to
shake his hand. The man looked at her with an amount of awe and fear. To his
Secrets and Illusions 30
ordered eyes she looked like a wild creature, such as a bear, that was only held
under control by a thin tenuous string and an unreliable handler. Mirane smiled,
let him think it, it has always worked for her before.
“I am Yuav Hunte5.” He extended his hand and offered her a seat.
“How can I help you?” Her confidence had a way of making people feel
they were in her own home.
“Our friend,” he nodded to the innkeeper, “says you are a guard on her
way to Kaira.”
“I need a cart, horses, and a wagon, for the trip.”
“So he says.” The man looked again at the innkeeper. “I have that.”
“What do you need from me?”
“My daughter is going to Kaira,”
“I can get her there safely.” Mirane exuded confidence and competence.
“You would do this in exchange for the transport. What assurances do I
have?" His voice trailed off leaving many unspoken horrors between them.
“I do not wish to be blunt, but there are no assurances. But if you do not
know my name you do not know that I am more likely to get your daughter to
Kaira than anyone else you will meet. If you do know my name you know my
reputation, you know that I accept commissions to pay for my work on the
western front. I am no profiteer. This is an exception. I need transportation. I do
5
Pronounced in Sian: Wave Huntay
Secrets and Illusions 31
not need to take this job. I'll find it elsewhere. But, now, I need to sleep and I
need to leave today.”
“We were not quite ready yet.”
“I need to get there as soon as possible, it has already been too long.”
“Send her tonight,” said the innkeeper, and then turned to Mirane, “You
are the Mirane, correct, that saved my cousin at Pendleton”
“Joshua?” Mirane answered remembering there was only one man at
Pendleton who required her assistance.
“I cannot afford such a name.” Yuav exclaimed.
“Sir, I need only transport, I wish to reach Kaira before the winter sets in.”
“You will not do that walking?”
“No, I will not. If you will please excuse me.” Mirane left off any future
negotiation in favor of taking her bed.
“Will it just be the two of you?” He called after her.
“Yes.” She replied as she took the first steps on the stair.
“Will you take her?”
Mirane thought it very fortunate for them that she had come along
fortunate for her, as well “I will, tonight.”
After they had made all the arrangements, Mirane followed them back to
their house and curled up to sleep in one of the rooms. She had watched me
track people before like this. She knew it was slow and tedious but very accurate
within a certain time frame. She had planned her escape knowing each step I
Secrets and Illusions 32
would use. She knew that if she slept it would harder for me to find her; I needed
conscience thought to find people. She slept very well and awoke by mid-
afternoon, the house was filled with activity and while she slept four or five
different young women had separately checked in on her.
Mirane stood up and straightened the bed. She looked out of the thick
glass windows and could see part of the village. She looked around the room
and thought of her own room, years ago that had had glass windows and lace
curtains, it had had quilted blankets and a dressing chest filled with all the things
she had made for her wedding, as well as, the much nicer things others had
made for her. Mirane touched the items in this room and they whispered to her
memory. She glanced in the mirror and saw her long hair braided away from
her face and like a thick rope hung down her back to her waist. It was dark red,
almost brown. Her face, that had once been considered pretty, was hard and
difficult for her to see. That I had always told her she was beautiful lingered in
her memory but it was not the prettiness her husband would recognize. Beneath
her tight-laced blouses and trousers was a body hard with muscle and skin
engraved with deep scars. Her body had been so completely changed he would
not recognize her.
Mirane cleared her head of this. She was not going to doubt her decision.
She was not going this far to reconcile with Larken; she was going to set him free.
She had learned from the inn-keeper that he had written that message just one
year before and that he had often traveled there as part of his work. That was the
Secrets and Illusions 33
limit of his journeying she had been told. Mirane would go and spend the winter
with her family and free Larken from their marital obligation. He was legally
wed to her; the marriage had been consummated. How many times, she
wondered, had he wished that it had not, wished perhaps, that the attack had
come just a few hours before and not given him a chance to know her.
“Mistress Mirane?” spoke a small voice at the door.
Mirane opened the door and saw a woman already visibly pregnant.
“Yes?”
“I am Dazja6.” She said it with a small degree of humility. “I wanted to
thank you for this. I am looking forward to rejoining my intended.”
“You are very welcome. When you are ready to leave we can go?”
Mirane said with a smile that was warmly returned by the young woman.
Dazja‟s family served a huge send-away feast. “Please, come sit.” Dazja‟s
mother said as she pushed a chair under Mirane. Mirane sat and looked at all of
their anxious eyes and did not remind them of the hurry they were in. Dazja‟s
sisters began to bring in great platters with vegetables and meats and then took
their seats.
“Would you object if I were to say grace?” Yuav Hunte looked at her with
respect and wariness.
6
See Rogether’s Kaira Formal Register pages XIV-XVII.
Secrets and Illusions 34
“Of course not.” She smile, he was head of the household and need not
ask her. But, of course, she did not mind, the saying of grace.
“We are a very religious family,” Yuav said this as if he were half-
apologizing for their religiosity and half for that they suspected she was not
religious at all. Mirane smiled graciously and bowed her head gently.
“Please lead us in grace, Lord Hunte.”
“Dear Lord, thank you for this feast in front of us, thank you for all the
gifts you have given us, those that we are ready to accept and those that are
harder. Please give our beloved daughter safe passage to Kaira. Thank you for
providing a guardian and a guide in our guest and savior Mirane….” Mirane
listened and when he had finished Dazja‟s sisters piled her plate high with food.
“Please, I have a small appetite.” Dazja said.
“We are your family, we saw you eat before this baby and we know if
there is a small appetite inside that pregnant body it most assuredly was eaten
up by your own appetite. Eat.”
Dazja and her sisters laugh wonderfully and embrace each other.
“You need to eat,” Dazja‟s mother patted Mirane‟s back and kissed her
head. Mirane turned quickly and looked at the woman who suddenly then, for a
moment thought that she had made a mistake.
“Yes, ma‟am.” Mirane smiled and Dazja‟s mother relaxed.
“Dazja has never spent a night out of my house,” mourned her mother.
Secrets and Illusions 35
“Well, once,” said one of her sisters but sharp glances from the others
shamed her into temporary silence.
When the feast was over, at last, she and Dazja climbed into the wagon
and drove into the night. Dazja had tears in her eyes and Mirane let her shed
them in peace. By the time they were away from the village Dazja had stopped
and a smile crawled across her face despite the wind and the threat of snow.
After several hours Dazja went into the covered wagon to rest and Mirane drove
onward.
After a long night‟s drive Mirane found a place that was both away from
the road and far from trees. She wanted to have time to react to any
approachers, even if that meant the winds would sweep across her in her sleep.
At dawn, when Dazja emerged from the wagon still sleepy and surprised by the
cold morning, Mirane brushed down the horses and warmed herself up. “I need
a few hours of rest,” she said as Dazja‟s face went pale. “I do not sleep very
solidly, if anyone snaps a twig within fifty yards, I‟ll be awake. Do not wander
though, stay here.”
Dazja looked around, “Where would I go?”
“Nowhere,” Mirane replied. Dazja watched Mirane curl up on the
driver‟s bench and fall directly to sleep. Mirane knew that the girl was in no
danger and that she herself was the only one with anything to lose. They were
not so far from Scolar that I could not find them. She prayed I would not even
Secrets and Illusions 36
try, if I would stay in Scolar or go to Sian then all would be fine. She could not
have me with her now.
Mirane woke up at midday and found Dazja ensconced in a warm corner
of the wagon. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yes,” Dazja replied and wrapped herself in her warmest cape, the one
she had worn the night before and seated herself next to Mirane on the driver‟s
seat. She was drawn to Mirane; she had never met anyone like her. She knew
that from looking at her. She also knew what her future was going to be like.
She knew that she would have her child, the first and then many others. Some
would live and some would die, she would grieve. She would be a good wife to
her husband and she would run his household. She would be a good daughter
to his mother and assist her in everything she needed. She would never take up
a sword and travel the country and she did not think she wanted to but while
she was in the company of this woman she would imagine herself to be
adventurous.
“You do not have to sit up here, if you‟re cold.” Mirane said by the middle
of the afternoon. She was used to the exposure and she had dressed warmly
from the start. She had on many layers and a long cape that fell to the ground in
woolen folds.
“I‟m warm enough.” Dazja said as she shivered and pulled the cloak
warmer around her.
Secrets and Illusions 37
“Alright.” Mirane coaxed the horses along as they slowed and allowed
herself to fall into her own thoughts. “Have you ever killed anyone?” Dazja
asked and her question floated over the memories barely heard.
“Excuse me?”
“Have you ever killed anyone?” Dazja repeated a little quieter.
“I do not think it will be necessary on this trip.” Mirane answered and
tried to quell her fears.
“I do not think so either, I was just curious.”
“I have.” Mirane answered without looking into her memories for the
images. Dazja remained quiet and satisfied with that answer for a while and
Mirane drove silently along.
“You‟ve been injured too, pretty badly?”
“Yes.” Mirane could not help remembering those wounds, a slice or a hit
that would bruise her.
“Why do you do it?”
“I do not do it on purpose.”
“I know, I mean though, I‟ve never been injured by someone nor have I
killed anyone. I‟m getting married and having a baby. This is the most
adventurous thing I‟ve ever done.”
“You mean then, why do I put myself in a position to do it?”
“Yes,”
Secrets and Illusions 38
“It is what I do.” Mirane could not say she could not put into words why
it was because it would mean remembering. Remembering was coming but not
yet; there was time.
“Have you ever been married?”
“Yes.” Mirane answered, “I am married.”
“Really.” Dazja was intrigued. As interested in the life of the adventurer
swordswoman she had some very real and practical questions about marriage.
Mirane answered what she could, mostly from her experience with me, since
most of Dazja‟s questions had little to do with her legal marriage status.
They traveled on this schedule for several days and at no time left Dazja‟s
curiosity behind. She was inquisitive and nervous which made Mirane nervous
that it was slowing them down. It was not.
“About the baby, y‟know.” Dazja started one afternoon.
“You do not need to explain it to me,” Mirane smile trying to make Dazja
feel comfortable. Mirane understood.
“I do not want you to think badly of me.”
“I do not.”
“You must.”
“I do not.”
“We were supposed to be married in the summer. He had traveled from
Kaira and stayed at his mother‟s house, in our village. We would have been
Secrets and Illusions 39
married the next day so it did not seem to be too harmful. We were curious.”
She paused, “I was curious.”
“I cannot imagine.” Mirane teased with a smile. Dazja was very likeable
and Mirane felt that she could allow herself to speak freely with her.
“He was called away by Kaira, messengers were here and they took him
with them. I wanted to get married then, and then travel with them. Our
mothers were furious, they were not about be cheated out of a wedding. He
returned to Kaira and I stayed. Our mothers were even more furious to find out
I was with his child.”
“You will be married in Kaira then?”
“Oh yes, his mother is there already, has been since she found out about
the baby. She went to make sure there would be no other incidents.” Dazja
smiled at the cluckings of these old women.
“Why are you going to Kaira?”
“I grew up just outside the town.”
“A swordswoman with a hometown.” Dazja giggled.
“Yes,” Mirane smiled. Mirane laughed then at how successful she‟d been
in convincing everyone she had no such home.
“How long till we get there?”
“Few days till we get to Kaira.” Mirane said realizing for the first time that
this was real.
Secrets and Illusions 40
“Then you will see your family, and I shall begin mine.” Dazja smiled and
held her pregnant stomach. She seemed so happy. Mirane tried not to feel sick
with anxiety. My family, who knows even how many of them there will be? Do
not think, Xylvan thinks, do not think, if you think it will happen.
“Are you alright?” Dazja asked noting that Mirane‟s face looked darkened
and sullen.
“I‟m fine.” Mirane smiled, just smile, she said to herself, just smile.
When they came upon it, Kaira emerged from the trees at midday and
Main Street opened up to them directly from the forest. Dazja came up to the
driver‟s bench to watch all that was happening. This was only a town and one
that was settling in for the winter but there was enough going on to keep her
entertained. It was the warmest day they had had, the sun was out and the wind
had died down.
“I have been instructed to bring you to your fiancé‟s mother‟s residence.”
“Yes, I‟ll stay with her until the wedding.”
Mirane smiled. Is there anything you need to do before I take you there?
Mirane was praying she would say „yes‟, in order, to put off her own reunion.
“No, my mother-to-be is very kind.”
It was not far to the house and Dazja‟s mother had given them excellent
directions. “This is it.” Mirane announced at the gate.
Secrets and Illusions 41
“Yes,” Dazja was impressed she had never imagined the house to be so
grand; she had never been to a house that required a gate and a wall. Her fiancé
was very important. She swelled with pride.
“Can I help you ladies?” said a guard who approached them with
anything but helpfulness on his face.
“Yes, I am the escort for the Lady Dazja.” Mirane answered very officially
and Dazja had a hard time not smiling.
The guard was expecting her and so sent a small child away to fetch
someone. He unbarred the gates and let them into the courtyard. The pregnant
woman looked safe but her escort was anything but. Mirane saw that the guard
was uncomfortable with her and she was content with that. She made eye
contact with him and waited for him to look away. He was a large man, and he
seemed strong but he knew he was no match for this woman and he was not
going to upset himself over it. He looked away. Mirane did not want to let
anyone in this household believe that once she was gone Dazja would be without
protection.
Just then a group of women converged on the courtyard with giggles and
shrieks. All were dressed very well and all seemed to be full of good health.
They rushed Dazja with smiles and shouts of welcome. They had nearly taken
her into their pack when a tall slim woman dressed in Trysal7 covered wool
7
Trysal a fabric created in imitation of Hysyl though still very expensive. The process remains the same
but the plant is much more abundant and the fibers three times as thick.
Secrets and Illusions 42
quilted with an intricate floral pattern and fit to her handsome figure moved
slowly toward them. The women parted to let this grand dame view the girl. At
first the woman seemed severe but soon a wonderful smile spread across her lips
and she embraced Dazja.
The women set to unpacking Dazja‟s belongings and carrying them into
the house. Once empty the wagon was carried off by two grooms. “These all
belong to Dazja.” Mirane was not about to have them make off with Dazja‟s
things.
Dajza's mother-to-be approached her. “Of course they do, they are to be
with her for the rest of her life.”
“Of course.”
“You were very kind to bring her here. Thank you very much. We can
finish now what we began.” Mirane thought for a moment that the woman
smiled. Mirane could sense nothing insincere about his woman and could not
think of any reason to linger. Her duty was complete and she thanked the
woman.
“Where can you be reached?” The woman said as Mirane was turning
away.
“I shall be about half-a-day out of town in Krahan.” Mirane said she was
not about to let a future contract go uninitiated. “I am planning to winter there, if
not I will return to Scolar.”
“If you are in Krahan, I shall send you a wedding invitation.”
Secrets and Illusions 43
“Thank you, I‟d like that.” Mirane must have smiled that perfect smile.
Mirane chose not to stay in Kaira. Instead she took the south road to
Krahan immediately. Her pack felt strange on her back after having the luxury
of the wagon this past week. She found herself thinking of Dazja now instead of
me. She thought of Dazja‟s reception and how even this enraged mother-to-be
had embraced Dazja and welcomed her. She wondered whether she would be
recognized and her feet slowed on the path.
As Mirane walked closer and closer to Krahan, she felt more and more
like a stranger. Fleetingly, she thought of all the stories she had heard about
happy villages ruined by the approach of a stranger. She imagined herself as the
vanguard of a great shadow that would doom them. She pushed that image
away and started noticing her body; in away she had not seen it since she was an
adolescent. Her sword hung apart from her at her hip, she noticed it like she
had never before. Her leggings seemed immodest. She wished she had
something in her pack that would be more appropriate. Then she reminded
herself that she was here to release them of any obligation to her, which would
be easier if she were the stranger, if she were that dark ship, if she were
inappropriate and inapproachable.
When she saw the first curl of smoke and the first rooftops she stood
paralyzed within herself. Her breathing became a labor and her feet solid ice to
the frozen ground. She took the first steps towards the houses and crept around
Secrets and Illusions 44
the back of the village. It had long since recovered from the raiders burning.
Houses were standing, fences were whitewashed and gardens were harvested
year after year. She knew her parents land holding was now in front of her.
Inside their house there was a fire going, even a cedar log burning in the
smoke. She could smell the faint remains of dinner and she smiled when she
thought how her mother would worry that she had missed dinner. Tears
clouded her eyes as she thought of how many meals and days, and nights she
had missed with them. Mirane the swordswoman fell inside and Mirane
Vallanishe Damaskaya stood quaking in her own back yard.
She had no courage to approach the house and she stood there a long time
before they took notice of her. Her father peered out of the glass window,
opening and then closing the curtains. A moment passed and then he emerged,
armed, in the back yard.
“Trouble has no business here.” He yelled from the door. Then he
stepped out, a heavy ax in his hand and he moved towards her. Mirane felt
sorry that she had frightened him. She unclasped her sword and tossed it to the
ground between them. She took off her cape and her pack and let them fall on
the ground. She unbound her roped hair to whip in the wind around her. She
stepped forward, tears in her eyes.
“Who are you?” He shouted and she tried to believe it was the darkness
or his old eyes that failed to see her and not that he did not know her. They
forgot me, she cried silently.
Secrets and Illusions 45
“Pappa,” she choked as if she were a child. Her voice cracked. He now
stood paralyzed. “Pappa,” she repeated and then fell to her knees. Her hair fell
over her, fell to the ground. It was darker now than she thought it would be.
“Her father approached her and touched her head gently. She looked up
and saw him. He was so much older now than she had remembered him. He
could not have fought her off with his ax.
“Mirane?” He said crying and fell to his knees. Both held each other, in
silence, for a long time. Mirane only became aware of time and of her
surroundings again when her mother and family joined them in the garden; each
new person wrapping her arms around her or trying to touch her with so much
as a finger.
Secrets and Illusions 46
Loss
I spent the night dreaming, alternately, of my family and of Mirane. I
dreamt of her, as she must have been, before we met. My mind created the
process of her education as it had for quite some time, in that year. I spent the
night deeply asleep and content.
I woke in the morning with full light already flooding our room.
“Mirane,” I called into the room, where is she? I shrugged. I got up and set
myself to straightening the room and packing our belongings. Good thing we
had not spent the winter here, we could make ourselves at home very fast. I
packed slowly, putting my own clothes neatly into my pack. Soon, I noticed that
neither her clothes nor her pack were near. I thought for a moment that, maybe,
I had not retrieved them from our last camp, but I knew that I had. There was no
logical explanation for where they were. Yet, I continued to pack, growing more
and more aware that she was gone, that her clothes and her pack were truly
missing. I was surprised by her readiness and peeked out the door to see if it
rested there. It did not.
I felt great anxiety rise in me. I searched the room for any clue to her
disappearance. Still battling to maintain my composure and not succumb to
panic, I went downstairs to see if anyone had seen her go. Within moments the
Innkeeper pulled me aside and asked to speak with me. “It is about the
Secrets and Illusions 47
woman,” he ventured, lest I think he was nagging for the rent. It had been paid,
in full, in advance. There was no reason to press me for it.
“Do you know where she is?” Fear or anger flashed in my eyes, I saw him
recoil from it.
“She has asked me to tell you this. She had to go to her own family. She
wants you to winter with your mother. She promises to return the first night of
spring.”
“Excuse, me, you must be mistaken.” I said.
“She left,”
“Left?”
“Left.” The innkeeper hated giving bad news. He cringed. He did not
know how I would react.
“Did she say anything more?” My voice was loud. My mind roaring, I
had to speak louder than the cacophony.
“I should not tell you this. But you seem a nice man.” His compassion
seemed more ameliorating than genuine. “Yesterday, she discovered our prayer
wall.”
“Prayer wall?” I looked around the room and found it.
“Folks come and write their wishes, thoughts, hopes, that sort of thing,
there. Some people believe that if you write on a prayer wall, your prayer will
come true.” He was nervous, unsure of me. I just looked at him waiting for him
Secrets and Illusions 48
to tell me everything he knew. I scanned his mind but he had few thoughts
beyond beer inventory.
“What do they say? I felt the writing beneath my fingers and tried to
discern which one had changed my life. I expected the offending characters to
burn my fingers.
“This one here.” This Innkeeper touched Mirane‟s name.
“Read it…” I asked my voice barely holding.
“I cannot. Go to your home I know she will return here.”
“Read it!” I shouted. Other men came closer to circle around the
innkeeper.
“It is a message from a husband to a wife and to God.” The man felt
superstitious, it was bad luck to read another man‟s prayer, aloud. The men
tightened their circle
I stood and changed my tone. “Please read it.”
Very reluctantly and only because he could see that I was in pain did the
man finally agree to read the passage? “It says, „May my beloved wife Mirane
Damaskaya be retrieved from the men who stole her on our wedding night and
may she be delivered back into the arms of waiting husband and family.‟” The
Innkeeper paused and, perhaps, wondered if I had been among those who had
taken her from the nice man who had scrawled this message. I could see flashes
of memory, of the writer; long narrow face, blue eyes with tan etched skin
around each, light brown, very straight hair, and very sad.
Secrets and Illusions 49
My legs were suddenly too weak to hold my heavy heart and I sunk to the
floor clutching my gut. The Innkeeper left me alone and I force myself to I find
the strength to stand. I returned to the small room that we had rented to heal her
from our last battle. Mirane had always been strong and sometimes it is harder
to love someone who needs so little from anyone else. But I loved her more than
I knew. The innkeeper downstairs could hear me howl in pain.
I felt her betrayal all through my chest and my mind. I was sick with it.
For once, I was happy to be in this sole minded country, there would be noone
who would feel this with me, no one to ache with me. I would not inflict this on
another person. How could she leave me? She was not married. Was she
married, when did she ever see him? How could she be married? She would not
marry me. She loathed marriage. How could she leave? I ran these questions
through my mind again and again trying to get the right angle on it. I had not
known she was married, I did not know anything about her before the day we
met. She always danced around questions like that; when pressed she would
change the topic. I could account for five years of her life and then no more. As
my chest loosened, I began to think more clearly and I began to piece together
what I did know about her.
First of all, I knew that she was an excellent swordswoman and that she
was entirely self-trained. She had never told me that, but once a teacher at the
Secrets and Illusions 50
Sword school in Writalth8 had told me that her technique was good but it was
undeniably untrained. He offered to take her into his school and teach her
everything else but he told her she would still be the best even without it. I also
knew that she did not speak the dialect of the North Country and had always
deliberately steered us away from the south but year-by-year we went further
and further south, as if the region were drawing her near.
I now knew that she had been deliberately heading to her husband and
her family. I knew that her name was Mirane Damaskaya. How could I have
proposed to her, held her, made love to her, traveled with her, and loved her for
these years without knowing her surname? I was embarrassed. I now knew that
raiders, presumable Darung had taken her; I could not imagine any one taking
Mirane against her wishes. I now knew that she was capable of leaving me in the
night without a word. I knew that she loved someone else more, more than me,
despite our many years together. I knew that I was sinking into a coil of anger
and depression that would make it impossible to find her.
Hundreds of questions ran through my mind. Of these, why had this
never come up before, had any of these messages been seen before, was her
home nearby. These were analytical questions; I was preparing to track her
down. I was in no way about to be sent up to Sian this way. How could I go
8
At the time The Sword School In Writalth was regarded as the premier academy of Swordsmanship for
the King’s guard and remained so for over two hundred years. Its remains are still accessible.
Secrets and Illusions 51
home heartbroken and ashamed? Was that not how I made my debut here in
Gryth?
As the room grew dark around me, I thought of the day we met. I
remembered so clearly and wonderfully the way she looked at me when I
emerged from the branches looking more Sian than I had for years now. I
remembered the way she looked, tall and strong. She was beautiful as her face
softened to me. “You did that?” she asked looking me directly in my eyes. She
did not search for my pupils as other Gryth humans did. She just looked at me.
“Yes,” I replied to her in my memory but had accidentally said it aloud in
the tiny room where she had left me. I now set to planning my strategy. In my
estimation Mirane could be found and that I would find her. With this clear
resolution soundly set in my brain I was able to sleep.
In the morning I wrapped myself in layers of warm clothes. It was
already beginning to snow and I cringed at the thought of ice on my skin.
However, I was not tempted to stay in Scolar. I knew from experience that the
tracking spell only worked for a few days. In addition, I was not good at it. It
was one of the few spells I knew. I had picked it up from Patrich when he had
traveled with us. So far I had her direction narrowed down to West. That was
not as helpful as I would have liked, I thought cynically. The Innkeeper, I
discerned did not know where Mirane‟s husband had come from except to say
from the West. I had tapped into the man‟s thoughts just as I would in battle and
Secrets and Illusions 52
had learned very little from his mind. Mirane had been very careful in what she
said and had neither given the man any specifics nor led him to draw any
conclusions. I did not want to think that she had anticipated that I might do this,
I did not want to embark on the journey believing she wanted to betray or escape
me. I did not want to even think I was wrong in following her. It was
irresponsible of her to leave the way she did. She might even need me.
Sometimes, I thought objectively, she just did not think things through. Of
course, she always told me, I thought too much.
I stepped into the cold and felt the raw air on my face. I knew that this
would be slow going. The tracking only went a few yards. If I pointed west and
set the spell for her, concentrating on her hair and her skin, a path on the ground
would “glow” for me. It would be faint and fuzzy. If it had been raining or
windy an entire area may glow. That was what happened to me now. I would
go to the end of the area and have to recast at several points to be led in the right
direction. Anyone watching me would think I was insane. It took me a whole
hour to get out of Scolar. Then it became worse as there was no longer shelter
from the wind. The path in front of me would glow but there would be “dust”
sometimes several feet away.
By mid-day I was exhausted and stopped to rest.
It took me two days to get to the small village where the “glow” was the
strongest. I was exhausted; the energy that allowed me to work the spell was
fading. This had its natural effect on my mind and his body. Reluctantly, I had
Secrets and Illusions 53
to admit that tracking her magically would no longer be possible. Fortunately, I
was not out of skills. This last bit of glow told me that she had spent at least a
few hours here; she was not traveling or skimming around town. She had stayed
here and that meant she would have come in contact with people.
I had come to the village late in the day; folks were coming in from the
fields and shutting up their businesses. I found the small building that seemed
the busiest and the least comforting and hoped it was the common house.
Mirane and I had, long ago, realized that any given small village would have a
place like this, one the villagers could gather in for truly secular ventures.
Sometimes it was just tables and sometimes quite a bit more. The building
would be strong but not comfortable or inviting. In the south country this was
more pronounced. I found the place easily and followed the long shadows to it.
Without drowning myself in thought, I stepped over the threshold. Inside
was a single musician playing to an almost empty room. I slipped in and went
straight to the small table by the fireplace. I sat quietly listening to the musician
and let them stare at me. I wanted them to approach me but I was willing to wait
for them to get over my race.
After some time it was clear that they might ignore me all night. I was
very comfortable with strangers once the introductions were out of the way;
approaching them was always Mirane‟s strength. She did not so much confront
them as intrigue them. She made them want to find out about her. She would
look around a room and appraise everyone and then with a smile would discern
Secrets and Illusions 54
which ones would be most easily broached. She would watch them. Those who
stared were of no interest to her, those who shied away and then made eye
contact. Those were the ones she caught. If they were not in need of her services
they almost always knew someone who was. I looked at people but did not try to
discover if they were looking at me. I knew that they were and for whatever
reason they stared it was their own.
From my seat in the corner I began to scan the faces around me. I took
note of the way they dressed and the way they sat, whether they slouched or
leaned forwards. I tried to watch them as if I were not there, I did not stare at
them, never that, but I became aware that they were uncomfortable.
“Can I help you, sir?” The voice came from the large woman who put her
hand firmly on my shoulder.
I turned and smiled at her. I thought of the way her hair was curled and if
she happened to smile how beautiful her face would be. Human women
responded, I found, differently if you believed them to be beautiful before you
spoke to them. I never said it aloud, but believing changed something subtly in
my face. I always believed it. “Yes.” I replied in a voice that was just a slightly
bit softer than I would ordinarily speak.
“What brings you to our little village?” She said, not ready to trust me, a
North Country foreigner. She knew what I was but she was not ready to let that
change anything.
Secrets and Illusions 55
“Please sit down, if you have a moment.” I motioned to the empty chair
beside me. She hesitated and then sat. A couple of people at other tables looked
up and then quickly away.
“What is it?”
“It is nothing to you, I am sure.” I started to speak. I needed her to believe
that although she had no obligation to help me, I would be indebted to her. “But
it is very important to me.”
“I do not know if I can help you. What do you need?” She replied, just a
hint in her voice that she wanted to help and a hope that she could. To any
observer she‟d still be fortified.
“I have lost a friend of mine.”
“Lost?”
“Yes, she is alive, I hope.” I paused; I was no longer acting for her benefit.
“She came through here, maybe three days ago.”
“Where was she going?”
“I do not know, she is my partner, I do illusions, she needs me.” I was
pouring out my hopes to this strange woman.
“Not a lot of strangers come around her. Unless they are on their way to
Kaira.”
“I do not know where she was going. She was there in the night and gone
in the morning.”
Secrets and Illusions 56
“I‟d love to help you.” The woman began to stand; her tone was very
closed and cold. She had no desire to help me at all.
I paused and hung my head. “I know you would. I ask only that if
anyone mentions anything to you that maybe a woman came through, let me
know, that‟s all.”
“Where will you be?”
“Right now I‟m stuck, I do not know where to go.” I picked a few coins
out of my pouch; “I think that I‟ll have to ask the proprietress for a space on the
floor tonight.”
“That will be enough for a room, y‟ know.”
I looked down at the coins and made sure I had counted right. I wanted
there to be more than enough. I hoped the extra would buy my information. All
it did was buy me a map9. The woman brought it to me late in the evening and
together we looked it over. The woman translated each place and I wrote them
down in Sian so I would have it. Together we decided I would go to Damal,
which was due south from this village. It bore a fragment of her name and there
was a good chance there was a connection there.
9
The map was recovered and found to have been falsified. It has been hypothesized that Yuav Hunte
meant to lead Xylvan off the path of his daughter and her protector.
Secrets and Illusions 57
I did not meander from my southern trek, I followed the signs carefully to
Damal and still it took me three days. It might not have taken that long if a great
southern snowstorm had not risen out of the horizon and nearly swallowed me
in frozen whiteness. The last half of my third day was spent fighting driving
snowdrifts and cruel winds. When I found the common house of Damal and
pushed the heavy doors I was frozen and wet. The proprietor took my money
and gave me a room. I could barely speak.
“Sir, I know that this might be the last thing you want to hear but I‟ve got
a tub of warm water. I could have it brought up to you and made hot.”
“Hot clean water?” I pushed the words out of my chattering teeth.
“Oh yes.” The proprietor seemed happy to have it brought up and I
accepted with absolutely no qualms. “Can I ask you a question?” I said later as
the water was steaming in front of us.
“Ask.” I said beginning to unlace the wet leather from my feet.
“You are from the north country?”
“Sian.” I had never thought anyone was interested in the specifics.
“Sian, yes. I heard only that the Sian have…”
“Magical powers.” The proprietor said it suddenly as if all he had for
resolve had dried up. Some people will ask anything. One someone had asked
about my personal endowments in comparison to human men. I‟d been shocked
and Mirane shook in hysterics. No question surprised me anymore.
“Sian, no, not necessarily. It is a trade, something you learn to do.”
Secrets and Illusions 58
“Like a priest?”
“Like anything, like learning to run an Inn.” I was watching the water cool
with regret and the wind howl outside. I was longing to be in the hot water.
“So you do not do magic?”
“Why do you ask, if you do not mind my asking?”
“My wife, she wanted to know, she has these ideas of how it works, and
she wanted me to ask you.”
“That‟s all?”
“She was curious.”
“Well I am, primarily, an illusionist. That is what I was trained to do. I
can create visions for people.”
“Why would people want visions?”
“Most do not, it‟s a form of fighting, but some are enjoyable.”
The proprietor nodded his head and left me to slip into my bath.
Secrets and Illusions 59
Family
Mirane sat in her parent‟s house on the furniture that her father had built
and carved since her capture and looked at all the faces. She wanted to hear all
the stories and the little ones, nieces and nephew, were eager to tell them. These
young children were at first afraid of her but she smiled warmly and with a
word of reluctant encouragement from their mother‟s were quick to accept her.
Their mothers, her sisters, were not so welcoming. They eyed her with
suspicion. They needed to smell her, to make sure she was one of them, and that
she had not brought back danger to them and their safe households.
Mirane had wanted the reunion to go slower. She would have wanted
this first night to be alone with her parents, then her sister Sabrine, and then,
perhaps, sister Theabe brother-in-law, her brothers and sisters-in-law. And then
her husband, whom she must, inevitably, meet. Fortunately, he was away and
would not return until, at least, the following day. “He is such a big part of our
family, Mirane.” Her mother said trying to comfort her.
“How is he?”
“He is good, he has built up quite a trade.”
“That‟s wonderful.”
“I‟m sure he‟ll teach you all about it.” Her mother was unable to sit down.
This was too much for her. It was a great gift to have her daughter back but she
Secrets and Illusions 60
could tell, it was not what it seemed. She was unable to ask about the time
Mirane had been away and how she survived. Mirane thought she could believe
it was the same day all those years ago.
“Give her some time, sweetling.” Her father said as he held onto his wife‟s
hand.
“Time.” Her mother said this too loudly, too much of an edge on her
words. Too much time had already gone by, she wished to say. Mirane could
see it on her lips.
“Sabrine,” Mirane turned to her oldest sister. “Tell me about your fine
sons.” At Mirane‟s wedding, Sabrine had been pregnant with her third baby.
Mirane had already taken mental stock and realized that those boys were here in
front of her the older two sitting back but the youngest was too young10. He was
trying to sit next to her to show her his sword.
“Grampa made it!” he exclaimed excitedly and matched it up to his aunt‟s
much longer heavier version.
Sabrine lifted the boy onto her lap to distract him from the blade. This
child was too young; he was not the child Sabrine was pregnant with then.
Throughout the evening, Sabrine pulled this younger child back onto her lap
several times as she spoke of them all. Then, in turn, each mother spoke of their
children. The house seemed to be full of them. Sabrine had three, her sister
10
Birth records of Krahan on record in Kaira show that Sabrine only had the three sons. It is believed that
one was lost before birth around the time Mirane was taken from the village. Possibly as a result of the
raid.
Secrets and Illusions 61
Theabe had two, and her brothers had each fathered three apiece since she‟d
been gone. Eleven young ones aged newborn and up. Mirane smiled at her
parent‟s forethought to build such a large common room. It seemed the raid had
spurned a wedding and baby boom. She bet the same trend went for the whole
village.
The talk went on late into the night and only when tired mothers realized
that the floor was littered with sleeping children did they pick them up and take
them home. “Mirane,” asked Sabrine as she left, “Will you be here tomorrow?”
The others lingered outside the door to hear her answer.
“Yes.” Mirane said and she heard a quiet sigh from everyone.
“Mirane,” her mother called from the top of the stairs.
“Yes,” she responded closing the front door.
“I have a bed already for you.”
Wordlessly, Mirane went up the stairs and to bed.
Mirane woke to sound of low voices and bright daylight. She lingered in
her bed and tried to decipher them. She could not, so she lay flat and closed her
eyes again. Around her everything was clean. Her blankets had been washed
and dried outside with her mother‟s special soap. That distinct scent of
raspberry leaves sat in pockets of air around the room. She pulled the blanket to
her face and nuzzled against it. She wondered now how she slept in some of the
places she had. She felt, this morning, as if she were in dreamlike luxury.
Secrets and Illusions 62
“No, I do not know.” Her mother‟s voice carried up the stairs but Mirane
could not hear the other voice at all. “No, nobody asked,” another pause, “Why
are you so suspicious?”
Mirane stopped listening, there was nothing she could do about this type
of talk. She knew that all you could do against gossip was to either be a constant
reminder that it was not true or to be completely unashamed. So instead of
lingering, she swung her legs off the bed and got up to dress. Beside the door
was a bowl of warm water that she felt must have been hot, not too long ago, but
now held only a little of its warmth for her. She washed and pulled on one of my
cast-off shirt and her own leggings.
Outside she saw that a thin layer of snow had powdered the ground.
Across the village she saw her neighbor‟s tracks on the green and she knew that
they had all gone off to their business. For a few idyllic moments she felt that she
had done the right thing.
“Good morning.” Mirane said as she slipped into the common room.
“Good morning, did you sleep well?” her mother inquired happily.
“Oh yes, I slept very solidly, thank you.”
“Do you want breakfast? I made your favorites.”
Mirane looked at the plate in front of her and smiled widely, she had
forgotten her mother had ever made her a favorite breakfast. She took a bite, it
was delicious and she remembered that this had always been very good.
Encouraged, her mother began chatting happily. Mirane did not know whom
Secrets and Illusions 63
she had been speaking with earlier; there were only the two of them in the room
now.
“I so rarely get to make breakfast for my children.” Her mother was very
happy, not comfortable, but happy.
“This is truly delicious, thank you.” Mirane reached out and tapped her
mother‟s hand affectionately.
“Oh, I can do this whenever you want.”
“Thank you.”
“I‟m your mother, y‟know.”
“Yes.” Mirane smiled not remembering the last time she was so happy to
be mothered, probably never. Mirane ate her breakfast while her mother sat in
front of her, watching.
“I want you to know…” Her mother was trying very hard to get up the
courage to say something. Mirane put her fork down to listen.
“What is it?”
“Your father and I want you to know that we want you to stay with us
until you are ready to go to Larken.”
Mirane said nothing, surely her mother was expecting a thank you but she
had nothing to say. She had not decided where she would stay when she
arrived. There was so much she had not planned or anticipated. There were
many fine details that she had forgotten to think of, and had forgotten that this
Secrets and Illusions 64
was not a mission. “It would not be right to stay with him,” she answered
distractedly.
“Then you will stay here, it will take you and Larken some time.”
“Yes, we will need time.”
“Tell me mother, has he found anyone else.” Mirane tried to sound as
optimistic and as open as possible.
“Oh no!” she exclaimed, “he‟s like a son to us, he would never betray us.”
“I did not mean that.”
“I know, he misses you, he would never betray you. He writes prayers on
walls in hope that someone will know something.”
“Really?” Mirane questioned ironically.
“Yes, now they have come true.” Her mother smiled widely, Mirane
wondered if her mother was deliberately not seeing her or whether she was,
mercifully, reserving judgment. “Do you want any more breakfast?”
“No, I am full.”
“Then, I think that we should go to my sister‟s this morning.”
“Alright.” Mirane replied, leaving the why unsaid.
“She has some cloth that we can make you something decent with.” Her
mother said this in a low voice. She was embarrassed at Mirane‟s immodesty.
Was not Sabrine‟s husband a tailor? She thought maybe her mother was too
embarrassed to bring her to him.
Secrets and Illusions 65
“Alright.” Mirane laughed. She was home and nothing had changed
except her.
As her mother had planned they went to her aunt‟s and then returned
with enough cloth to make two decent dresses. The morning was for sewing; she
could not expect to be seen in public dressed as she was.
“Put this on.” Mirane‟s mother handed her a shift that covered her from
neck to ankle, shoulder to wrist, in a huge billowy white cloud of cloth. “Come
down when you are dressed.” Mirane pulled it on and looked down at her body,
she felt she was wearing a bag. She went downstairs and saw the project her
mother had set out. A stack of cloth needed to be measured and cut. After an
hour of trying to cut the cloth and making, in her mother‟s opinion, many severe
errors, reinforcements were sent for. Perhaps the sight of ten women cutting,
fitting and stitching had been commonplace when she was child but she could
not recall. She was absolutely stunned by the whirlwind in her mother‟s house
they caused. They all seemed able to talk, move, measure, stitch, sew all at one
without a breath, the threads of their conversations flew like that of their needles.
The conversations were picked up and passed on, dropped and occasionally tied
neatly off. Mirane listened and tried to keep pace. She was out of her element;
she was a whore among the virgins. Every now and then Sabrine or Theabe, her
sisters would move close to her and fill her in on a piece of relevant gossip but
the names she knew of her youth seemed no longer to have faces. She smiled
politely and let them get back to the discussion.
Secrets and Illusions 66
By mid-afternoon they made her stand on a stool as they wrapped her one
of her new outfits. Her skirt swept the floor and was in a very deep blue. It was
heavy for winter. Beneath that she would wear a soft white skirt. They pulled
the tunic over my blouse and it fit well. It was tight waisted and pleated above
her hips. It had no sleeves so that she could move easily. The neck was squared
in the front and the back. They told her that she would have to make a suitable
blouse but for now the one she had would do. They had created the blue skirt
she wore and also one of green with matching over tunics for both. The green
one had a scallop edge neck that one of the women had taken some time with
instead of helping with the underskirts.
Mirane was immensely grateful for all they had done especially since she
did not know many of them. She reached out to thank them, she apologized that
she had nothing to offer them. And then in the whirlwind pack they came in
they left as suddenly leaving the room very quiet and very empty.
Mirane sat in the room she called her own for now and looked through
the small verse of poetry that had been her father‟s pride when she was young.
She read the love poems and later told me that she thought of me. She put the
volume down and resolved not to torture herself. When this was all over she
would return to Scolar and meet me and I would never have to know that any of
this had happened or that she had come here to put an end to this life. Mirane
Secrets and Illusions 67
picked up her sword and felt its familiar weight it brought her back to who she
was.
“Mirane,” A man‟s voice spoke from the doorway. Mirane turned her
head slowly and saw him. He was taller than when she had left and older. He
was handsome with light skin and blond hair. His face still had the fineness of
features that had appealed to her when she was young. She did not know him
well then but he was attractive enough and her parents had wished it. She put
the sword back on the chest and turned around to face him. She took a few steps
forward and he looked at her as if she were a ghost.
“Larken.” She nodded gravely.
He stepped inside the room; he looked like he wanted to embrace her and
that he thought he should. He looked uncomfortable in his arms; they lifted and
fell again to his side. “It‟s you.”
“Yes.” Mirane felt she should say more, that she should offer him an
explanation and then let him leave her free from their obligation. Before she
could open her mouth again, he grabbed her and lifted her into his arms.
“Mirane, my wife, my love, Mirane.” He whispered or cried into her and
put her down again. “You‟re here.”
“Yes.” This was not going to be as easy as she thought it would be. She
had a sudden desire to not even try. She could leave in the night and return to
Scolar. Given my disinclination to winter weather, she thought she might
actually be able to track me inn by inn.
Secrets and Illusions 68
“It‟s wonderful” He moved to hold her again but she stepped out of the
way. “Your father told me that you would be staying with them for awhile but if
you tell him you‟d rather be at my house I think he‟ll understand.”
“I‟d like to stay here.”
“I know it‟s not so easy is it? I understand, you stay here a couple of
nights and make them feel better. I‟ll have you the rest of my life.”
“Larken…”
“I promise that this will never happen again.”
“I know it will, not to me,” She would have to be killed for them to take
her corpse again. Whether Larken would have the power to prevent that, she
did not know? “Hopefully by the time I leave, this village will have a plan of
what to do.”
“By the time you leave?” He seemed genuinely surprised and that struck
her.
“I‟m staying only the winter.” Mirane decided that she would confront
this now.
“Where are you going?”
“Larken, it does not matter.”
“Of course it does.” Color was rising quickly to his face.
“It does not. I am here to make things right.”
“Right! Right! And you think that it is right to leave?” He was holding his
temper, just barely.
Secrets and Illusions 69
“I saw your prayer in Scolar, that‟s why I‟m here.”
“You were in Scolar. All this time!”
“No, I was recovering there. I‟ve been all over the country.”
“Why were you not here?”
“I do not live here.”
“You do so, you are my wife and you live in my house and you love me.”
“No, I am here to dissolve that marriage.”
“You what!” he boomed.
“Disolvement.”
“You‟ve been here a day! A sweaven bloody day and you are here to
destroy me. You just saw me, you do not know enough about me to dissolve me
out of your life.”
“Larken,” She lowered her voice and looked him straight in the eye. “I
must ask you to leave, we will discuss this another time.” She let his glance go
and turned her back to him. Behind her she heard him smash his hand into the
door frame, swear again and storm petulantly down the stairs and then slam the
front door, swearing again as roared down the street.
That went surprisingly well, she thought.
Secrets and Illusions 70
Dissolvement
“Mirane,” her mother‟s voice whispered persistently into her ear and soon
she let it get through her dreams. “Mirane.”
“Is it morning?” Mirane asked grumpily.
“It‟s still early but we need your help.” Mirane jumped to her feet, her
mind cleared and she reached for her cloak. There was no time to dress. Sword,
where is that sword. She put her hand on it and poised in readiness for her
mother to lead her to the problem. The older woman stood back in surprise and
fear. She had never seen her own child wield a weapon. Not even her sons had
held anything more threatening than a wood axe.
“What‟s happened?" Mirane‟s mind was preparing for all contingencies.
She wondered frantically if it were not already too late.
“Do not you remember?”
“I remember, do not worry it will not happen again.” Mirane‟s eyes
burned and her mother took another step back.
“It is time for laundry.” Her mother offered this quietly and fearfully.
“Laundry.” Mirane‟s voice was filled with relief soon to be realization and
dread.
“Yes, it is laundry day.” She was excited, driven by Mirane‟s enthusiastic
reply.
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“Laundry.” Mirane hated laundry day; her voice was now flat.
“Get dressed and come down stairs.” Her mother cheerfully left the room.
Mirane could hear her singing on the stairs and then out the door. She dressed
slowly and joined the women outside. Mirane shivered a little but it was early
and the day promised to be relatively warm, for winter. Around the garden
were huge cauldrons filled with water. The fires beneath them were already
going and the ropes for drying were already strung across the yard. For a
moment she believed that this might go smoothly and quickly until her mother
began barking instructions. “We have an extra set of hands today, I think that we
can get some of the linens done.”
Mirane‟s heart sank at those words but when she plunged her hands into
the water as she began to scrub the clothes as they came her way she found her
spirits sinking as low. Then lower. Each time she thought she was making good
time another load needed to be scrubbed. She knew the routine from her youth;
Sabrine got the clothes wet and soaked them with her mother‟s special soaps.
Then two women would bring them to her vat and she would stir them and beat
them until they were clean. When she was child it was one of her aunts but
today it was one of her brother‟s wives, she had not learned yet which once was
which, they both stuck together as if they were sisters themselves. Maybe they
were, she did not know. She did not pretend to, she just worked. From her
station those same women brought the clothes to Theabe and their mother who
were in charge of the final rinse. Sabrine then hung the clothes up to dry.
Secrets and Illusions 72
It all seemed to go on for hours, Mirane‟s hands were raw and she was
physically tired. She spent several of the laborious hours wondering how she
could best an enemy twice her size and still walk all day and yet could be
brought down with the labor of housework. By the time the clothes were
completely hung, the vats emptied and the fires extinguished Mirane was ready
for bed. If not bed she was ready for a good rest far away from the household.
She was let down for the second time that day when she saw Larken slip
around the corner of the house. He embraced her mother and then walked
directly to her with no pretense. “Good day, Mirane,” he said and she looked
around to see that all the other women were gone; they had left them alone
together.
“Larken, how are you?” She continued to busy herself with the hung
linens so her clenched and shaking hands were concealed.
“I have come to invite you to stay with me.” Larken was trying to be
polite. He was trying to be sympathetic of the ordeal she had been through and
to be gentle with her. His tone suggested, to her, however, that he was not
completely comfortable in this role. That, in fact, he was losing patience with
her. She was too exhausted to think about that. She wondered whether she
would be able to hold her own temper if he asserted himself too far.
“I am happy with my parents.” Mirane said even though, right now, she
would have been happier fighting five of the biggest eastern soldiers the day
before their yearly bath.
Secrets and Illusions 73
“What I mean to say is that I think it is important for us to be as man and
wife. It looks bad for me that my wife is staying with her mother.”
“No one thinks that you have done anything. This does not happen every
day.”
“It is our duty to take care of one another.”
“I do not wish either of us to carry that duty any longer.” Mirane said as
she sat down on the step and looked at him. She pushed a stray hair out of her
face without breaking her gaze.
“You mentioned that the other night.” Larken took a step back and rubbed
his chin.
“Did you expect that I had changed my mind?” Larken nodded to himself,
which was exactly what he had thought.
“Mirane, do not you see that you are in the best position possible of all
this.” Larken said this all too matter-of-factly for her taste.
“Why?” She looked sideways back at him with curiosity and a very
controlled temper.
“The fact that you were married before and that I have chosen to take you
despite your behavior.”
“My behavior?” Mirane‟s voice was ice cold and she could not exactly
understand what Larken was doing still so brazenly standing there.
“We heard stories of what you did with them, others returned, and they
told us.”
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“I see.”
“When you did not return…”
“And then when I did.”
“What were we to believe?” Larken gesticulated as if he were making a
serious and profound argument.
“That I enjoyed my life, that I had fallen beyond decency and morality.”
“Mirane,” Larken knew she would over react.
“Larken, I did escape. I escaped over seven years ago.”
“And what have you been doing since.”
“Fighting.”
“That‟s what you‟re going to do in Scolar in the spring?”
“Larken, I was left to save myself from the terrible situation that I found
myself in. I got no aid from anyone here or anyone who returned. I saved my
own life and I own it.” Mirane stood and looked at him like a fast moving winter
storm. She stopped and looked at him.
“I am your husband.”
“Larken, I have three reasons for being here. To answer your prayer wall,
to see my family, to dissolve my marriage with you so that we each may
remarry.”
“Who will marry you, now, look at you?”
“Larken, you are angry, I can see that, this is not the opportunity to sting
me. Do not say things that you will regret.”
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“Why would I regret any of this?”
“Larken, leave now.”
“Just tell me who would marry you.”
“Larken, please do not make me say things that I will regret.”
“Mirane, there is no one who will take you as his bride by law.”
“Larken.” To Mirane there were only two ways of ending this and she
chose to turn and retreat into the house. She did not watch to see if he left the
yard. She went to her room and sat quietly until she could regain some of her
composure. Outside she could hear him shouting. “You whore, you bloody
whore!”
“Are you alright?” Her father stood in the door and looked at her with
concern and sympathy
“Yes, thank you,” she said warmly. “I am.”
“Would you like me to speak to him?”
“He cannot stay there forever.”
“Are you here to dissolve your marriage?” He asked and Mirane dreaded
answering. She did not want her father to think the things Larken had
suggested, she did not want to see hurt in her eyes.
“I am not the woman he married.”
“I know.”
“I had hoped he would see that.”
“He is blind about many things.”
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Mirane managed a half smile. So far she had not seen a trace of sadness in
his face. She looked at him closer than she ever had. He was still tall, his
shoulders slumped a little but they had many years and many losses on them.
His hair had once matched her own but now it was mostly gray and wiry. She
could look into his eyes and see her father from her youth and she knew that her
blood knew his.
“He is a good man, I love him as my own son.” Her father stopped. “He
was able to be a child for me when I had lost my own. You may not be that child
but neither is Sabrine the baby I knew. You have grown up and you have had a
harder life, so much harder, I am sure, than I would have feared for you in my
worst nightmares.”
“Pappa.” Mirane wanted him to stop. She did not want him to endure
these thoughts.
“Mirane, I have you here, alive. No matter where you go in this world, I
will know that you are alive; if I never see you again I will die knowing that you
will not be waiting for me on that otherside, it will be me who greets you there
and it will be forever before I see you there. You have come back from the dead
for me and you remain my beloved child.” Her father leaned over and embraced
her and she held him tightly so that neither of them could see the tears on the
other‟s face.
“Pappa, thank you.” He lingered in the door for her to say more but her
voice was caught in her throat. She motioned him to sit at the side of her bed.
Secrets and Illusions 77
“Do you know what I do?” She began to explain the years since her freedom and
the work that she did and the work that I did and that she loved me. Her father
left her late in the day and only after her mother insisted she help with the
clothes. Mirane‟s father kissed her on the forehead and they both stood. Her
father went to his shop and she followed her mother to the yard to check on the
clothes.
Secrets and Illusions 78
Unwelcome
“All I have to do is have one day…one day.” Mirane said to herself as she
rose from her bed. One day of her own, one day when her body ruled, her
muscled worked and she did not have to navigate the changing landscape of
family politics.
Mirane planned her whole day to be an exercise in avoiding her family.
Whenever she went to the garden she saw wood that needed chopping and
brush that needed clearing, when she went behind it she could not help but feel
the forest was, too closely, encroaching. Clearing this land and preparing
firewood would help her work out her tension. She was ready for a day of
physical work. She borrowed a pair of her father‟s pants and tied them to her
waist; for some reason her own clothes were missing. She pulled on one of his
more abused shirts and coats to keep the cold from touching her before she had
worked up enough of a sweat to shed it. She thought it might snow later, the sky
had that dull gray to it and the smell was unmistakable.
Mirane went into the yard stretched out her muscles and started gathering
the tools she would need. They were all lined up along the wall of her father‟s
tool closet. She was surprised it was not locked; it was attached to the house like
a tiny room with an exterior door that led only into the tools. She made a mental
note remind him that leaving it open could provide easy access for an enemy to
Secrets and Illusions 79
weapons. She grabbed a long dangerous looking tool with hooks11 at the end
and went out passed the garden.
As she raked the brush, the muscles in her arms and back stretched and
hurt. She continued to pull at the tumble of briars and young saplings for hours
despite the strain and soon it went away. She pulled the debris into a pile just
inside the garden and began to sort through any of it that would make
appropriate kindling. She wrapped these into bundles with the twine her father
kept for the purpose and put them on the shelf beneath the wood shed where
their supply was already getting low. The rest of the pile she set to burning
while she prepared to chop wood.
Mirane returned the rake to the closet and pulled out the ax, the same ax
her father had welcomed her with the first night she arrived. She laughed
quietly to herself and rest in against her knee while she pulled off the coat. It
was warmer now, she thought, she was sweating.
“Hey what are you going to do with this?” said a man‟s voice behind her
as he grabbed the ax. She was a moment late responding as the coat was still
falling from her arms. She threw it to the ground and in the same motion
grabbed a long staff with blunt metal ends. She spun and prepared the tool to do
damage. Fortunately, for her surpriser she knew that there was a much greater
chance that this was someone she should not kill than that she should. She held
back. She met her brother Samyuel‟s shocked face straight on, the end of her
11
A Rythwalek
Secrets and Illusions 80
pike not inches from his neck. He was furious that she had come so close.
“What are you doing!” he screamed.
“Do not surprise me again.” She said icily. She had never been close to
her brothers and their already cool reception gave her very little reason to be
kind.
“You could have killed me!” he continued with his accusations.
“I would have,” she corrected as she put the pike down and took the ax
from him.
“What does that mean?” he said very angry with her and now more for
her impertinence.
“It means,” she took a deep breath at the very thought she had to answer
to him. “That you need to be more careful when surprising me and pulling a
weapon on me.”
“Pulling a weapon on you! I just asked what you were doing, where do
you think you are?” He said this with such derision that Mirane almost doubted
herself. And then with frustration and embarrassment welling inside him, he
shoved her and grabbed the handle of the ax.
“Samyuel,” she still had a firm hand on it and he could not wrest it from
her. He tugged on it but she was not letting go she was not going to lose a
dangerous battle of wills with her little brother unless she knew what it was
about.
Secrets and Illusions 81
“Let go.” He ordered but she did not relent. Instead he gave in. “You are
an embarrassment to our family. Why did you even come back?” She could not
say she had not suspected. She was glad he finally said it aloud.
Mirane let the bar go with a shove that pushed him off balance. He
skidded backwards a few steps with the ax in his hand. She grabbed the pike in
case he felt like challenging her again. He did not. He plunged the ax head into
the chopping block and stalked away. “Your not worth it, your not worth it.”
With the choice of following him or staying here and chopping Mirane
pulled the ax out of the block and began her work again. She wondered what
sort of gossip or retaliation would come out of this but she funneled all of that
into her swing. She wished it had not happened, she did not want to have to
prove herself with every male in the village nor did she want to be considered a
bully. She knew now that there was no chance of fitting in, the best she that she
could do would be to roll with the blows and take which allies she could.
When she stopped to rest she had already chopped quite a bit of the pile.
She wrapped the coat around her and looked up to the sky. It was getting darker
with incoming storm and a bit of a wind had picked up. She figured just stack
the wood in the shed and go inside before the snow started. It was at this point
that she noticed she was being watched. A woman stood alone and still. She
was too far away to be recognizable but Mirane stood and tried to make out her
features. The woman did not move so Mirane put down her coat and started to
Secrets and Illusions 82
stack the wood. Mirane looked up again to see that the woman was slowly
approaching her with little regard for her neighbor‟s garden. The woman finally
made it to the shared fence and Mirane smiled. “Hello,” she called out and
waved.
“It‟s true.” The woman stayed at the fence and said flatly. Mirane put
down the wood and approached her.
“Madame Jinten,” Mirane smiled. It had been a long time, naturally, since
she had seen this woman. When she was a child, she and Madame Jinten‟s
daughters would play.
“Mirane,” The woman said her name like a dead woman‟s name.
“I think it‟s going to snow.” Mirane said looking above her. Madame
Jinten did not look; she just stared at Mirane.
“I did not think it could be true.”
“Madame Jinten, I heard about Adda, I‟m sorry.” Mirane had not visited
anyone to express her sorrow. She felt everyone had forgotten and she did not
know if she had the sorrow to spare.
“You are sorry. You who lived. You who are here.” Mirane felt a sudden
rush of hostility and anger. The woman‟s face contorted, her vitriol started in the
small of her gut and seethed upwards. Her voice held no charity and her word
held nothing back. “Whore.”
Mirane took a step back in complete surprise. This was not her day. Was
she not able to count on anyone being pleased to see her? “Madame Jinten…”
Secrets and Illusions 83
“My daughter, virtuous and dead, and the whore, alive.” She spat her
words at Mirane and Mirane turned her back on her. The curses did not stop, the
foulness of the woman‟s mouth continued to spew at her until Mirane put a door
between them. Mirane sat at the table and buried her face in her hands and took
deep breaths. She refused to feel guiltly that she was alive but she would not
remain out there with the barrage. She looked down at the floorboards, polished
and clean. If I were a whore, I‟d be a rich woman, but no, I was a slave, she
thought.
Despite her resolve she was shaking, she did not know why and she
became frustrated with her inability to stop. She shook. After several minutes
her trembling limbs quieted and she was able to stand. She looked out the
window to see her father speaking with Madame Jinten. She stood at the
window even though she was afraid the woman would see her and resume her
barrage.
Her mother came up behind her and wrapped her arms around Mirane
just to hold her, just to feel that she was real. Her mother had heard the horrific
streaming curses from her dear friend Emilia Jinten whom she had known since
they were children together. She had stared out the window at Julhue and
Emilia talking and screaming as if it were other people. For her mother, Mirane‟s
return was real only in its violent profanity. The real daughter returned still
seemed like a ghost.
Secrets and Illusions 84
“What is it, Mother?” Mirane asked touching her mother‟s hand and
stroking her still beautiful fingers.
“I missed you so much.”
Mirane looked forward trying to stop the flow of tears that were already
stinging her eyes. She toolked up and tried to blink them away. “I love you.”
“I love you, my daughter, my husband‟s daughter. I did not always
understand you, you have always been so changing that I felt I could never keep
up with who you were, because when I knew her she was already gone. And
then you were gone, completely. And here you are and my heart treads on thin
ice, to risk knowing you again, is to risk losing you completely again. May I just
hold you?”
“Hold me.” Mirane turned around to accept her mother‟s embrace. They
held one another for a long time. Then after both were fortified, her mother
released her embrace and pulled away. She took Mirane‟s hands, instead and
looked into her eyes.
“May I ask you a question?”
“Ask two.” Mirane joked through a clamped throat.
“Please forgive Emilia, she grieves for her daughter. We often grieved
together but we learned of Adda‟s fate a long time ago.”
“I do not know how Adda died, I was not there.” Her mother stroked her
hair and knew that Mirane was speaking truthfully.
“Might you know of Jiatye?”
Secrets and Illusions 85
“Yes, I do know of Jiatye.” Mirane remembered the woman. She was a
good friend of her mother and it was not easy to see her slashed through the gut
with dull blade.
Her mother saw, Mirane‟s eyes and could guess as her fate. Her mother
bent over and cried for her friend. Mirane held her and they mourned it all
together.
Secrets and Illusions 86
Arrangement
I stood in the plateau. I looked to the east and a vast army spread for miles. It
was filled with purpose and rage and fear, it waited in a frozen moment. I turned to the
east, the mountains burned and the sky filled with smoke. A moment frozen still. It
threatened to explode, it threatened to pour fire down upon us, but it did not, yet. I knew
that it would. I was not afraid. I was heartbroken because she stood above me, just out of
reach. She was there and then gone.
I awoke with a start unable to fall back to sleep. That morning I got up
from my rented bed and dressed. The dreams that had haunted my sleep that
night threatened to destroy me, all the while feeding my drive. I knew already, I
was in the wrong village. I peeked out the tiny window and saw that a thick
blanket of snow had coated the entire country, too much like the nightmares. I
could only see the back of the village and where the road north would lie.
Damn, I swore. I set my pack in the corner and wrapped my heavy cloak around
me for any warmth I could get from it. I went down to the common room and
found a roaring fire. I went to it hoping some of the flames could flow directly
into my veins. Outside the villagers were attempting to dig themselves free of
snow, I watched them for a moment and tried to feel inspired by their efforts.
They almost had the road cleared but it merely circled around the common green
but it neither led from the village nor freed houses from their cold and icy
Secrets and Illusions 87
prisons. I wished that I could watch them from the warmth of the inn but I
wrapped the cloak closer around me and borrowed a shovel.
For the first minutes several of the villagers gave me the queer looks I was
already so accustomed to. However, these soon passed and were replaced by
smiles of thankfulness. For most of the morning I worked along side them and
we accomplished a great deal more than I had thought possible. I shivered each
time frozen droplets crept between my clothes and my skin. I nearly rejoiced
when one of the villagers called out, “Break time.” Each villager, it seemed
immediately filed into the inn where a strong and hot barrel of brew was
waiting.
“Too bad you could not have magick‟d us out of this,” said one of the
villagers off handedly.
“Marule tells us you just do illusions.” This second man nodded to the
Innkeeper. They sounded disappointed. I did not show any sign of how
ridiculous I thought that was.
“At least he put in to dig,” a third man spoke.
“Sometimes digging is the only way.” I finally spoke, even though the
men would have been happy to continue to draw their own conclusions. I was
thankful now they had not lingered too long on the magic and I forgot about
how cold I was as the brew flowed through my veins.
“Well, at least you dug.”
“Only here for a day?”
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“Yes.” I replied.
“So what brings you this far south?"
I scanned a couple of the more broadcasting minds for their motives.
They had already gotten all the information they could from Marule, the
innkeeper, and they were ready to ask me their questions, directly. They were a
friendly well-meaning group.
“I‟m looking for a woman.”
“So we all are,” said a young man with an adolescent smile. Behind him
stood a tall woman completely covered in a green cloak. Her face was partially
concealed but her skin seemed very smooth.
“I‟m looking for a specific one, actually.” I decided that that was the
opportunity to ask. “Her name is Mirane Damaskaya she is tall with a long dark
red braid, she always wears her hair in a braid.”
“The potter looking for a Mirane Damaskaya, yes?” asked one man to the
woman.
“Yes,” said the woman, her voice was like a hot thick liquid, “popular
lady.”
I said nothing; I was unbalanced that they had mentioned, that they knew
of the other man. I felt suddenly that I was following on his path and I was
angry that his path was at an end, as my own continued.
“Maybe, she is not the same woman,” someone added hopefully. Despite
my doubts and my anger I still refused to see that I might not be in the right.
Secrets and Illusions 89
“It does not matter unless she is here.”
“Every one here has been here since the day she was born.” The woman
sat on the table and watched all the villagers.”
“How long have you been looking?”
“A week.”
“That other man said he has been searching almost ten years. Can you
imagine?”
“She was stolen on their wedding night.” The villagers seemed to know
the whole story. I resented that this other man‟s search was more significant
than my own.
“He has not been back in what, a year now?”
“Maybe he found her.” The man who said this was trying to be
encouraging.
“I think he must have.” I said with more bitterness than I felt.
“Well if he can…”
“Back to the digging.” One man called. The villagers, reluctantly, put
down their drinks and headed back into the snow, but I was relieved.
“Where did he come from?” I asked the man who had been so
sympathetic.
“Kaira. He made beautiful pots.”
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“A potter?” I repeated. I rejoiced that finally I had a town to look for. I
was also very stunned by this knowledge of this other man. This man had met
this potter, I could see this young man, my age, fair, and handsome.
“Oh yes.”
“Kaira, you say.”
“Outside the city.”
“Are you sure?”
“Oh yes, he wanted us to know, in case we saw her. He wanted to write it
on the wall.” My knew friend was smiling, still incredulous that the man had
asked. “I guess they do that out west.”
“Thank you,” I could have embraced the man right there.
“By the way, I‟m Lord Sergus,” the man extended his hand and I
accepted. This man was the closest thing most villages had to a lawmaker.
“Xylvan.”
“Ah,” Sergus nodded with recognition. I had stopped wondering what
they knew of me or did not; there was just as much likelihood that it was true as
it was not.
I followed the men out into the street to help them do more digging. I
hoped that the longer I waited there with them the better the chance that the
road out of town would be somehow miraculously cleared. I looked to it with
frustration every now and then while it stubbornly remained covered in snow.
After hours of work Lord Sergus approached me.
Secrets and Illusions 91
“Were you planning on leaving today?” he asked.
“Perhaps, maybe in the morning.”
“A storm is coming up.” He said looking up at the ominous clouds. I
believed him as I, too, surveyed the sky.
“When?”
“Couple of hours. Seems like a big one. You can leave but you‟ll get
caught in it.”
“I guess I will not be leaving, then.” My disappointment was evident and
I made no effort to conceal it.
“We would like to make you an offer.” The man was sympathetic but he
shrugged it off and continued.
“What do you need?” It was clear that he had something in mind.
“Wait out the storm here, in the inn, no charge. Afterwards we will loan
you a sleigh and camlay to get you north. We often do this. There are villages
north west of here that will take the sleigh back to us later.”
“And in exchange.”
“Illusions, magic.”
“Illusions?”
“It‟s a long winter here.”
“What kind of illusions?”
“Oh just anything, keep us entertained for the storm, then go find your
woman.”
Secrets and Illusions 92
“Alright.” I stared at the sky again for any hint of sunshine. I realized it
was good trade. I offered my hand to seal the arrangement, if Mirane was not so
set on the western border we could probably travel this way more lucratively.
Secrets and Illusions 93
Her Husband
Mirane looked around the room. Her mother could barely keep her eyes
off of her. Her father watched her mother carefully but did spare time to watch
her as well. Her sister, Theabe had brought her girls and kept sending Mirane
plaintive glances for help. Mirane could not help but think she should send
those glances to her husband who did not seem to be particularly interested in
either of the kids.
“I‟m going to the com.” Mirane stood and spoke suddenly as if it were as
much of a surprise to herself as to her gathered family. She was out of the door
before they could say a word of protest.
The cool night air felt clean on her face and the open sky felt more
liberating than she cared to admit to herself. These past days she had been so
closely watched by her family and village she was ready to escape them, ready to
flee into the winter forest. Now out, she wasted no time crossing the common
land to the Com. Inside sat a few villagers who gave her mixed glances as she
entered. Familiar territory. She went directly to the bar.
“Whatever you have,” she said plunking down her coins.
“As you like.”
Mirane took a sip of the watery ale before giving it a firm glance of
disgust. She had wished to drink enough tonight that she could disregard her
Secrets and Illusions 94
family‟s well-intentioned remarks without sacrificing too much mental acuity.
This brew she was drinking would not help her do either.
“Anything better?” She inquired blandly.
“Everything is better than that.”
“I got the coin, give me something drinkable.”
“Try this.” He passed her a warm mug. She took a little sip of warm
sweet liquid. It melted down her throat and warmed her whole body sliding
down to her gut.
“This will do.” She purred. The barkeep smiled at her, seeing her in a new
way. “Thank you.” She replied to his unspoken proposition curtly.
“You are welcome, ma‟am.” He took himself away rather quickly on a real
or imagined task.
Mirane sipped at her drink and felt her mind and muscles relax. This was
what she was looking for. Liquid fortitude from askance glances and sharp
criticism. If she were to loose some workings of her mind for the night, she
would happily sacrifice them. She began to take great pleasure in her solitary
drinking. Any one in that room who had made their judgments stood on too soft
ground to voice them, here. They would not wish to cross her, who knows what
irresponsible thing she might do.
“What are you drinking?” Larken slid in beside her. His blond hair fell in
his face and he pushed it away casually. She looked into his eyes. They were
blue, blue eyes seemed strange to her.
Secrets and Illusions 95
“They send you?” She asked off handedly.
“No, I come here often enough.” The barkeep brought him a long narrow
glass filled with a soft brown liquid. She pushed her coins forward.
“My treat.”
“Thanks.” Larken could have spit any type of vitriol at her but he just
smiled and nodded his thanks.
“You are welcome.”
“So what gets you out here?”
Mirane placed her mug on the counter. She was even less interested in
speaking with her husband than being scrutinized by her family.
“They watch you, right? Your mother or sisters made me my every meal
for the first year you were away. They watched me so closely I thought I‟d run
away. It is as if they do not believe you are real, you are some ghost, and you
cannot be trusted.” Mirane looked at this man for a long time. He knew.
“So what do I do?” She asked him.
“You mean besides move in with me?” Mirane smiled for a flash and then
turned her eyes down on him. “Drink.” He said.
“Barkeep.” She ordered another round and slouched down on the bar. “I
probably should not be talking to you.”
“Because I might get the wrong idea?” Larken asked, sarcastically.
“Because all these eyes will see what they want to see. Because this is your
village—they are all rooting for you.”
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“Your sisters, the first year, their friends the second.” Larken continued.
“Were women throwing themselves at you?” Mirane was slipping more
and more into drunkenness.
“More like pie tossing.” Mirane and Larken laughed, unable to not laugh.
“Pie tossing?”
“Larken, would you like to try this pie, I had an extra.” He affected a
coquettish young woman‟s voice.
“And did you enjoy these pies.” Mirane barely contained her smiled or
her laughter.
“I never ate so well as I did that year.”
The two of them drank and laughed until late in the night. “Will I have
hell to pay in the morning?”
“If you go to your mother‟s.” He answered.
“I can handle my mother.” She said slurring her words. Both of them
collapsed in laughter and stumbled out the doors into the cold. Outside, in the
cold Lord Kyltan waited on his horse. “Mirane, let me give you an escort home.”
“I‟ll escort her.” Larken said. “I‟ll take her home.”
“I‟m sure you would. “Kyltan replied dryly.
Despite her inebriation Mirane recognized this for what it was and took
Kyltan‟s proffered hand. “Goodnight, Larken.”
“Goodnight beautiful.” His voice was clear and sincere lingering on the
winter night.
Secrets and Illusions 97
“Goodnight beautiful.” Mirane said laughing. “Good night, pretty boy.”
“Come to see me at my workshop. See what I do.”
“Goodnight pretty boy, I will see it.”
“I love you.” He cried drunkenly into the night. Kyltan grabbed Mirane
by her waist and rode away.
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Delusions
Within hours it was clear that the villagers were right, the snow had
begun to fall and showed no sign of abating. I was thankful Marule agreed to
feed me as part of the arrangement12 and even more thankful I was not traveling
although I could not shake the feeling that the more delayed I became the less of
a chance there would be that I could find her. In retrospect, there was also my
pride, I would not return to Scolar
“Good evening, Xylvan.” Marule greeted me but did not move from his
place behind the counter. “Glad you‟re staying for the storm.”
“I am very glad.” I took a seat at the counter.
“Hungry?”
“Yes.”
“Let me get you something.” The innkeeper poured thick vegetable soup
into a warm bread boule. “Here, my wife said you eat no meat, that true?”
“This looks great, yes it is.”
“Truthfully, why?”
“Religious obligation,” I replied, naturally I was not permitted to say
more, and God‟s edict against proselytizing was very strict. I‟d found that
„religious obligation‟ was often sufficient.
12
By contemporary standards, room and board, were far above the fee for a performers services. This is
evidence of the high esteem they held Xylvan potential skill.
Secrets and Illusions 99
“Hmm.” Marule grunted non-commitally.
I took a long sip and nodded, the warmth spread through my body very
fast and chased the chill out. I remember winters in Gryth as a constant battle to
keep warm. It was good to have some weapon against it.
By the time the villagers were settled into the common house and warmed
from their treks through the storm I was dressed completely in Sian styled
clothes and hair, I was not going to cheat them out of any bit of the performance
they were expecting. I had moved some of the tables so there was circle in the
center of the room. I planned to orchestrate the illusion from above the fireplace
but now I moved to the center of the room to thank the villagers and to give a
very general introduction. I did not need to concentrate on what I was saying; I
was able to use this as a curtain for picking at their minds. I noticed that those in
the front of the circle were, the woman with the green cloak, Lord Sergus, and
the innkeeper‟s wife, Lhena, all of whom were rapt with attention, their faces
revealing as much their thoughts. I moved away from them and to the rest.
Most wanted to see far off places and heroes. They did not know what was
possible so they were not advertising any expectations to me. Most believed that
I had a set program and would not stray from it. That made my job more
difficult.
“Thank you,” I said, “May I introduce our heroine.” I began my illusion.
Before them all and to my surprise, Mirane emerged in Sian clothes, her long red
Secrets and Illusions 100
hair hoisted in a traditional rack that held all the long locks and cascaded them to
her cheeks and neck. She wore a dark green suit that closed in the back by a
series of braided knots that held the cloth tight against her body. She then stood
in the middle of a northern forest of green, she was hunting, her long blade was
out in front of her and her body was careful about each step. While she hunted
the villagers could also see the reasons why she had taken to the blade.
I worked through the evening at telling the story and building the images.
I told an old Sian folktale about a princess who was the beloved of a forest
leopard. The leopard had seen her once speaking of compassion and had fallen
so deeply in love with her that he made a deal with the gods, that if he were able
to love her as a man he would forfeit his place in heaven. The gods agreed but
they were only able to give him the night. So by night he courted her and
eventually she took him to her bed for him to disappear before dawn. One
morning he lingered too long in her arms. He slipped away praying he had
enough time to each the forest before the rays of sun touched him. She still slept
and he crept out to her balcony where the light twisted him back into his cat‟s
body.
Still he believed he was safe, he moved silently along the edge to escape
her eyes if she should wake. It was her brother who saw him and he, determined
to protect his sister, leapt down on the leopard and wounded him. The leopard-
lover was already forgetting that he was part man and attacked the prince and
Secrets and Illusions 101
killed him. The princess heard the fighting and woke up to see the forest cat kill
her brother. She vowed to kill the cat for this evil act.
The cat leapt from the balcony and ran into the cover of the forest. All day
the princess pursued the wounded animal. The cat knew out of all instincts of
survival to keep moving despite the pain but it also knew it needed to only go
until sunset when it would have a chance to live again. It was able to continue
through until the dappled forest light became low and red. Darkness stalked
crept across the forest floor. The princess and the cat approached the same
clearing at the same time. They met each other‟s eyes and the cat surrendered.
The villagers watched the princess and the cat approach one another and
the great cat bowed his head to this woman. The princess lifted her long blade
and stuck it through the heart of the beast that had slain her brother. The
leopard fell to the ground and transformed into her lover again. Grief stricken at
what she had done, she withdrew the blade. Miraculously, the man lived.
They spent one night together under the moon. She kissed the wound in
his chest; it was so close to his heart. She kissed his lips. When morning came
she had pledged a thousand loves to him and the light of dawn touched both of
them with cat‟s paws.
At the end of my story, the leopards leapt over the audience‟s heads and
out the door into the storm. Not a few members ran to the window to see them
playing in the snow and running happily through the village. All were
impressed.
Secrets and Illusions 102
I dissolved the glamour and even reluctantly the leopards. One by one
the villagers approached me, “how did you do that?”
“That is my trade,” I replied, “I learned to do it as a child. My brothers
and I used to do it together.”
“That must be a magnificent show,”
“It is no show, my brothers and I did it to protect our Queen.”
“Protect your queen?”
“Yes, it is part of our tradition to settle disputes through representational
warfare.”
“This is how you fight?”
“It can be used for fighting, but it is better used for pleasure.” I smiled
hoping they would be happy with shorter answers.
“How can you fight with it?”
“Both Queens agree to allow a small group of battle illusionists to
represent them. We use any sort of mythology, stories, legends, biology, that we
know of to convince our opponents of frightening realities. When one is
convinced, it is painfully obvious and he or she is taken from the tournament.
When there is no one left in the team it is clear who the winner is. It is ghastly, of
course, but were these illusionists not merely representational they would be real
soldiers dying over the queens‟ wishes and disputes.”
“So you have no soldiers, no warfare?” asked the lady in green.
Secrets and Illusions 103
“We have not in many centuries. Any conflict is usually between
Queensrealms; it is difficult for outside armies to reach us. The Queens are not
interested in spilling the blood of their people.”
“Our bastard king has no interest in protecting his blood filled subjects,”
someone quipped sarcastically.
“Damned Eastern War,”
“But not on the western border?” I asked, the Eastern War was usually a
rallying point for anti-royalists but the western border was hardly ever
discussed.
“There, he does not send in soldiers to help those folks, just let them die
on the settlements.”
“It‟s not even just the settlements, the Darungs are going deeper into solid
borders every year. Before long they‟ll be here.”
“Are we that close?”
“No, not that close, but Krahan is a two day walk and Kaira is the last
military defense outpost on the south coast.”
“Kaira, the potter‟s Kaira?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.” Lord Sergus said.
“I‟m just two days away?”
“From Kaira.” The lady in green said. Other villagers cast her a look that
said, your skepticism is not appreciated. “And when you can leave our village, I
shall make sure you have everything you need to get there.” Her smile was
Secrets and Illusions 104
suddenly warm and comfortable. From then on the conversation turned away
from my illusions and my search. The villagers lingered a long time at the
common house. Some yawned but no one wanted to leave. Soon I understood
their apprehension and brought the leopards back in and sent them up to my
own room. This made them more comfortable, strangely enough, and they went
home themselves.
Lord Sergus approached me and thanked me personally, before he left.
“Perhaps, tomorrow, something more exciting.”
“That was not exciting?” I answered his sarcasm; Lord Sergus had gotten
more than his money‟s worth and he was pleased. Soon the only person left was
the green-cloaked stranger but she did not approach me.
“That was really something,” Marule spoke with awe in his voice. He
could not take his eyes off the stairs where he had last seen the great cats.
“Did you enjoy it?” I wanted to get the man to realize it was supposed to
be entertaining.
“Yes, yes,” he answered emphatically.
“It was wonderful,” added Lhena.
“Good.” I smiled, “I‟m glad, I have never done that for entertainment.”
“Really.”
“Never like that.”
“Where did the story come from?” The woman with the green cloak posed
the question. She had the cape draped over her arm. She was one of the most
Secrets and Illusions 105
exotically beautiful women I had ever seen, though to be completely honest most
Gryth women were incredibly beautiful to me. Her hair was a light brown very
straight to her waist. It fell from a part at the center of her head, her skin was a
light caramel color and her eyes were black and liquid. She wore a tight bodice
that offered a glimpse of her breasts, and around her legs was a long wide skirt.
“This is Sorcha, widow of Lamar Damai. She is our healer.” The
innkeeper cast her a very wary look and it was clear to me that he did not trust
her.
“I just use Sorcha Damai now, you may call me Sorcha,” She repeated
with an amused smile at the innkeeper‟s unrequested patronism, “you are
Xylvan?”
“Yes.”
“It‟s nice to meet you.” She extended her had to me and I took it, it was so
warm.
“It is nice to meet you as well.”
“Where did that story come from?” She asked again, she seemed
genuinely curious.
“It is a Sian Folktale.”
“And the woman, she was real.”
“I hope the whole presentation seemed real.” I laughed and she joined
him.
Secrets and Illusions 106
“It did.” She said, “I‟m afraid to go upstairs with those cats. She smiled to
the Innkeeper.
“Are you staying here tonight,” he asked casually.
“You cannot expect me to walk home in this weather.” She turned then to
me. “I was here last night helping with a baby, I got trapped in the storm.
“Sorcha, I was asking if you needed a room.”
“Yes, Marule, I do.”
“Xylvan has the larger room, do you mind taking the other.”
“No, not at all.”
“Well, if you will both excuse me, I‟ve had a very tiring day.”
“Of course, good night.”
“Good night,” added the woman from her seat at the bar. She remained
with Marule.
I returned to my room, unbound my hair and brushed it out. I took off
my Sian clothes and packed them neatly away. I thought of the way Mirane had
looked in the illusion and how I had not meant to conjure her image. I could still
picture her in the Sian forest, so beautiful, just like our first encounter. She
resembled herself on the morning after we had first made love. It was a beautiful
summer night and we had a sense of shared destiny and accomplishment. It was
just after the very first time we used her fighting technique and strategies with
my illusions. We had worked on it for months always looking for the best way
Secrets and Illusions 107
to communicate, or the best way to synchronize our timings, her actions with my
images. We left without reward, without thanks. We walked deep into the
woods and when there was no sign of people we lay down on the cool moss. I
kissed her; it was not our first kiss. I had often thought of the laces on her girdle.
I untied them easily. Her bindings dropped away and bare breasts rewarded
me. Gryth breasts are distinctly wonderful. I continued to kiss her and she met
each advance and embrace. I built a small campfire and when I turned again
toward her. She was naked, standing there in the clearing. I stripped to the skin
and lifted her up in my arms. I wondered if she had any fear of my strange
body, but if she did she never let me know. She kissed me and drew me close to
herself with no less than complete desire. Her body guided me through such
pleasure I had never known. I was clearly not the first lover she had taken such
was her skill. Later, I would learn how and why that was, but for that night and
for many others, I believed it was love and passion. She wanted to know me as if
we would never have this chance again. I knew that I would not settle for never
again.
When I awoke to her in the morning I could see the scars on her skin.
Some told stories of her training and others told stories of torture. I touched
some of the more knotted ones, scars upon scars and wished memories of them
away. I wished for Sian healers for her and vowed, someday. I looked into her
eyes. Was she ashamed of them? Had she been afraid she could have dressed
before I saw them. I felt them beneath my fingers that night but I would not
Secrets and Illusions 108
have known, she could have the doubt she so treasured. I was a young man
then, barely twenty-two summers, then, some things needed careful explanation
for me. She was telling me so much then, standing there, and I did not see it.
Instead my thoughts were more exalted, I wanted to protect her and to worship
her for the rest of my life. The way she looked that morning was the way she
appeared in the illusion, beautiful, soft and fierce, filled with a difficult quest and
painful past. That was my Mirane and I would be damned if she chose her
husband over me. If she wanted to make that choice she was going to have to
make it with the both of us standing in front of her. And it she wanted to have
that choice I was not going to make it an easy one. She was worth my fighting
for and more worth winning.
“Xylvan?” A woman‟s voice sounded at my door.
“Yes?” I said as I looked up to see who it was. The woman took this as an
invitation and slid inside the room.
“I just wanted to thank you, again, for your display.”
“You are welcome.” I was glad I had put on a pair of leggings, at least.
Though she gazed at my chest longer than seemed necessary.
“The woman in your vision, she is the one you seek?”
“Yes, Mirane.” Sorcha moved closer and sat beside me on the bed. She
handed me a tall glass of ale13. I took a long sip and put it on the table.
13
The fast acting drug Winnowood used as an aphrodisiac and anti-inhibitor is believed to had been put in
his ale by those who wish to defend the Prince Jimerateal from accusations of knowing infidelity. Prince
Secrets and Illusions 109
“She is very beautiful. She is Gryth?”
“Yes.”
“It is hard to lose someone your love.” She said softly.
“I let her slip away. I did not know that she wanted to leave me.”
“I could not save my husband, either.”
“I could not keep her, all my love and I could not keep her.” I took
another long drink of the ale. I scanned her mind. I could not get any grip on it,
if felt that I just slid off of her thoughts. She must have learned to erect mental
barriers at some point, some Gryth did. To some it came naturally.
“Is she your wife?”
“No, she would not marry me,”
“My husband is dead, marriage does not always hold them,” she said
looking at him, her wide mouth low at the corners.
“She is my partner.”
“Another illusionist? Perhaps you have imagined it all.”
“No,” I laughed, “No, she is a fighter.”
“Really,” I intrigued Sorcha.
“Self-taught, she is amazing.”
“She must be very strong.”
“Yes.”
Jimearteal’s own journal gives us no such statement and as scholars we cannot make that leap. As course
as it is, we must believe that he took Sorcha Damai to his arms out of lonliness and attraction.
Secrets and Illusions 110
“You must need her, my husband was so strong, sometimes, and I wonder
how I survive without him.”
“You do, though.”
“So do you.”
“I miss her,”
“The villagers think I‟m dangerous. What is a woman without a man, a
man‟s touch? Danger. ” She sounded as it she were joking, mocking them but
there was a truth in her words. Sian men revered women, were brought up to to
do so. It was strange to me to think of them as danger, power, but not danger,
not to me.
“That is absurd, where I am from, power is matrilineal, among the most
rich and most powerful it is woman to woman, mother to daughter, never to
sons. It is only nominally recognized in other strata but those powerful women
are free to know the touch of any man they wish.”
“Were that so. I am not free. I have not known the touch of a man since
my husband and this entire village will let me do nothing but help me remember
that I am the widow. I am alone. I am untouchable.” She lowered her eyes, so
softly, demurely. I think I had never seen such a pretty gesture. Not in I'ridai
not in Mirane, never. It was unexpectedly seductive. “Sometimes…”
I was drawn into her eyes, so soft in this warm low light. I reached out
and surrounded her shoulder with my palm and my fingers. She leaned forward
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for me to kiss her. I did. “Sometimes what?” I asked pressing my forehead to
hers.
She said nothing. She leaned forward and kissed me again. She touched
me gently, arousing such desire in me. I felt a purpose in her. This was no
accident. This was no chance encounter or mutual commiseration.
I kissed her and held her. I let her seduce me. I let her trace her fingers on
my chest and my face. I let her remove my leggings and tease my llaronh. I let
her pull me to the bed my body and my mind were unwilling to protest. She
guided me to pleasure and took me into her body. We rose and fell with the
natural rhythm of lovers and later, when we had both known our pleasures, I
released into her with a groan. I had no thought for Mirane, I was completely
lost in this woman‟s body and in her sweet foreign gestures.14.
14
Scholars still argue tenaciously about the issue of this encounter. Many site the Damal record for the
birth of Sianax Damai as solid proof that he is the son of Prince Jimerateal and certainly those who believe
he is continue to site that Xylvan himself believed Sianax to be his son. However, historians with
particular political leanings have denied that Sianax could be his son as of all Xylvan’s children he was
almost undetectably Sian at all, including his three half-Gryth daughters.
Secrets and Illusions 112
Telling
The sound of breathing and quiet footsteps in her room brought Mirane to
instant alertness. She did not move and she did not open her eyes to see who
was there. She listened more closely and knew that it was not her mother, father
or Larken. She had paid close attention in the past week for the sound of their
steps so that she neither frighten them nor they alarm her. She knew that her
parents were just being kind to let her sleep in the mornings and she should
appreciate it with less suspicion. She tried to remind herself that she was
completely out of danger here, despite her chosen profession she had very few
enemies, none of whom would find her here.
“Who is there?” she said calmly but not kindly.
“Good morning,” Sabrine had come in and was seated now on the side of
her bed. By her tone Mirane guessed that she was hurt by Mirane‟s gruffness.
“Good morning, Sabrine.” Mirane sat up and smiled widely noting that
the room was still very dark. Sabrine visibly relaxed.
“Never a morning person, were you?”
“This is still night.” She retorted with good nature.
“I wanted to be the first to wish you tidings on your birthday.” Mirane
looked at her queerly. She had forgotten that it was even time for that and she
Secrets and Illusions 113
was ashamed that she had viewed her sister as an enemy when she had the most
innocent of motives. “Mother and Papa are still asleep.”
“Really, I cannot imagine anytime that they are not working on
something.”
“They are asleep, the village is still asleep.”
“You could not?” Mirane asked although she did not really mind being
awake.
“That is not it.” Sabrine smiled and then pushed Mirane to the side of the
bed nearest the wall and climbed under Mirane‟s warm blankets.
“You are freezing,” blurted Mirane as she pushed a blanket between
them.
“I was outside. I wanted to see you.”
“What is it?”
“I‟ve missed you.” Sabrine moved closer to her and Mirane wrapped her
arms around her. Sabrine held her tightly; a week passed and she still found it
difficult to believe that her little sister had returned to her family. Sabrine was
the oldest child; next born had been Hayder who died and then Mirane. Sabrine
was so happy for a sister that the four years between them meant nothing. She
loved Mirane at the first moment she saw her. When the young baby cried
Sabrine was the first one to the cradle and smooth her. She never felt as close to
any of the other children. After Mirane, her mother gave birth to twins, Amach
and Samyuel. Then she lost two babies and eventually gave birth to the
Secrets and Illusions 114
youngest, Theabe15. Sabrine had never smothered Mirane with too much
attention and they grew up as the best of friends.
“I have missed you.” Mirane said holding her sister‟s soft body.
“Can you tell me what happened, why did you not come back if you
could?” Sabrine had been forcing herself to ask. She felt she ought to know, even
if no one else could.
“I could not.”
“But you can now.”
“Perhaps enough time has passed, perhaps I was guided. I saw Larken‟s
prayer.”
“What happened all this time?”
“Sabrine, you do not want to know this.” Mirane said it softly but without
conviction.
“Will you not tell me where you have been these many years? We all
believed that you were dead. All of us but Larken, he never thought you‟d been
killed.”
“I should have come back a long time ago or not at all. I know it has been
a long time.”
“What took you so long?”
“Does it really matter now?”
15
All confirmed by Krahan birth records housed in Kaira.
Secrets and Illusions 115
“You do not have to tell me all the hard parts, Mirane, we knew when
they came that some of us would suffer greatly. Other villagers are gone, they
have not come back, and some have.” Mirane had forgotten that there had been
people she had known there. She never saw too much of them. She only
remembered that when she had heard of one of their deaths she would put their
deaths into her steel. It would make her harder for the time when she would
avenge them. She never heard of any escaping.
“How many of us were there.”
“Eleven.” Sabrine answered flatly
“Eleven?”
“There were eleven missing and ten dead the morning after.”
“Three have returned.” Mirane answered matter-of-factly.
“Yes.”
“That is all there is. The rest are dead.”
Sabrine choked and then went silent. They lay there like that for a while.
“None of them had any word of you.”
“No, I was not with them.”
“Where were you?”
“No where.”
“Please,” Sabrine whispered.
“Are you sure you want to hear this?”
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“Yes, from the beginning.” Sabrine took a deep breath and fortified
herself.
16“After the attack,” Mirane started hesitantly, “I‟ve only told this story to
one person,”
“Your lover?”
“None of them, not even Xylvan?”
“Lovers?” Sabrine gulped.
“That is the least of it, sister.”
“I need to hear, please tell me, your life is missing, and these years are
missing.”
She took a deep breath, “We traveled that night to the west and even the
next week, riding hard, the west is beautiful country but dangerous, it is
untamed. It is a country of wide plains; you have never seen so much flat land.
There were forests, occasionally but they were mere oases of trees. The ground
was hard from fall to spring and in the summer, a mud flat. Through this we
went north. When we reached the territory they called their own, I did not know
anything, I did not remember my name, anything.”
As Mirane began to tell the story she thought back through years of
strength, and the years of nothing alive capable of hurting her and all this still
seemed close. She had never told anyone about it and now, to her closest sister
and her oldest friend it began to painfully come to her lips. “I was a slave to
16
For complete account see Biography part the first.
Secrets and Illusions 117
them for a year, I was told what to do and I did it. I think they believed they
were enacting some sort of education on me that would prepare me for a
glorious life of pleasure. After a year I still was not my own but I no longer
believed that I was theirs. I slowly began to find and collect weapons, lost, old or
discarded swords and blades and I watched the fighters closely. They were
clumsy, they could slash through a village in minutes but they had no
refinement. Any soldier or trained fighter could take them on alone if they had a
plan. But because they were all I had, I watched them and I learned from where
they did not, their mistakes. Secretly, I practiced. I was careful to keep on the
extra pounds my life as a pleasure giver had given me and that they in their
perceived generosity had allowed me. Once I was broken, they thought they
acted kindly towards me but if they ever became displeased with me I knew the
great pain they were capable of inflicting.” Mirane seemed on the verge of
revealing more with a long silence.
“In these first two years I saw my own blood more than I would like but I
was learning. I was trusted and thought of by one of my users as a treasured pet.
He was the one who thought that I should come along with a group of them.
They were planning on being away from their “city” for a nearly two months
and they were not planning on taking their own wives. I went along because I
was told. I had no thought of escape, not a thought, truly. I was on the back of
his horse holding on for my life when he shouted a battle cry and the twenty of
us rode upon a village. I could not believe that I was there. I spoke their
Secrets and Illusions 118
language after my time with them so the sound of my own tongue caught me by
great surprise. People were shouting the alarm; young men came out with farm
tools. Farm tools were nothing against them. It did not take long and they
burned and stole. I saw that quite a few of the villagers had escaped and it was
too dangerous for any of us to pursue them. We took about eight captives.
“That night I was ignored in favor of the new acquisitions including some
very young people, not children,” she stopped to whisper a prayer and then
restarted, “but not, yet, married. Two were used so badly their bodies failed.
The remaining ones were enlisted to carry all the supplies we had stolen. We
were supposed to rendezvous with a group who would bring these back to the
city while we continued our raiding.
“It was on the third night of the hunting party that my life changed. They
were drunk, this could not have happened at that point if they were not. One of
the men thought that after all their drink that it would be more fun to watch. I
was pushed to the center and one of the older captive males was unbound. He
was beaten already but he was pushed towards me. I had no plan but to obey,
his blood was a reminder of my own. I was ordered to excite him and to
copulate with him while they laughed. He did not understand their tongue and
I, not remembering my own, began to remove my skirts these people wore, that I
wore.” Mirane thought of the long skirts, layers of hard silk and all in red, bright
red. The costume was designed to give anyone access to her flesh easily. The
top skirt was an apron to cover open slit skirts beneath that tied at her waist. If a
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man had wanted her he needed only to untie these. She was forbidden to wear
anything else beneath it unless she was bleeding and then after a while it never
happened and they did not expect it. She wore a red brassiere and a veil also in
red. Most men would remove the brassiere and not the veil. “I removed the
apron and dropped it to the ground in front of the man who had ordered this.
This excited him because he knew that the other skirts would do nothing to
provide modesty.
“‟Please, forgive me,‟ the captive said to me as if it were possibly his fault.
I was shocked. I looked at him, I am sure, quite strangely, but in that instant I
knew my own language, my name and my family, everything everyone had
done to raise me and to educate me as a child and all of the pride I had once had
and how I betrayed them. I told them that he refused and that I would explain it
to him, I kept them from hitting him, I told them that he would not be any fun to
watch unconscious. They, reluctantly, agreed and I asked for a long blade. I told
them that I wanted to have some fun with him, too. I told them man that this
was to end, but that he would need to go along with me. I told him in the tongue
I speak now. He did not expect me to know it and he nodded gravely as if I was
very wise and very powerful. They gave us the blade; a couple of them threw
the blades at us. I was surprised. The man, his name is Neveth17 and he lives in
his home village quite north of here, and I began to entice one another it was too
dangerous to pretend techniques, he later said he did not want any of the
17
See Biography Part the second.
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performance to give away our true intentions. Soon most of my company had
broken off to sleep, they did not even remain awake for the entertainment they
had ordered. I was so well trained, in their mind, that they just assumed that,
afterward, I would go to my place and that the guards would retie the man.
When we saw that they were asleep we attacked the guards. These three had
taken no wine but they died on my clumsy blade. Then Neveth and I
slaughtered the rest in their sleep. We wasted no time leaving. The seven of us
stole the horses and returned to his village. We rode as quickly as we could with
the injured captives and when we found his burned house we rode to the next
village where the surviving villagers had found sanctuary. We collapsed and I
woke to safety for the first time since I was last here.”
“Mirane.” Sabrine said nothing else she stroked Mirane‟s loose hair that
seemed to cover them both.
“I cannot stop there.” Mirane felt weak. She hated weakness, she hated
stories and she had memories. She missed me, I was the storyteller, she my
constant listener.
“Go on.”
“Then I lived with Neveth and his Fricey to whom I owe the clarity of my
mind and the quality of my life. For months they did not ask, they just loved me
like I was there own child even though neither of them was as old as me and
already they had a young son. Soon, though, I was ready to cause pain. I
trained each day and I learned. My body became lean and hard. Scars that criss-
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cross it now were still healing and sealing from those wounds. I was ready and
in the night I headed west. I traveled to the city which really only housed a
hundred women and men. I lured out the guards and slew them in the darkness.
I killed every man I had known and every woman who had struck me or who
still wore the careful work of my village. Perhaps, Neveth had not quite given
me sanity. I did not wipe out the entire tribe but anyone who had seen me or
had known that I was alone, perished, too. Maybe forty souls met their creator at
the end of my blade.
“You see that in those years I went from Papa‟s girl and your sister,
Larken‟s new bride to a killer and a warrior. I had taken and fulfilled bloody
terrible vows and I was tired. I returned the land of the civilized and still felt like
a wild damaged creature. From there I traveled by horse and then when I had to
sell him, by foot. I have not ever returned to Neveth, I spent my time in the
North. I have not even been this far south since. I could not come back and I did
not know that anyone waited here for me.”
“You‟ve never told this to anyone?”
“No. There is more, it is not as terrible.”
“Please.” Sabrine held onto her sister but her body shivered even under
these warm blankets.
“I started to work in the villages I came across, especially those out in the
west. I fought off occasional raiders and I made them all have arrangements for
evacuations. And then I met Xylvan.”
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“Xylvan, this is the man you have been with since.”
“Yes. I saw him in the Francinian Wood18. He was traveling alone and by
night. He was afraid of any Gryth who moved. He came knowing few people
and he thought he was being smart. I saw him two days before he saw me. He is
Sian, do you remember, that country, from our lessons. As absurd as it sounds,
more like a story than a life, his mother is a Queen and his father a Gryth man.
Xylvan does amazing illusions, but I did not know this. I saw a man alone and
unprepared to protect himself. I was under commission to rid a small town of a
very unwelcome element and I tracked them to a place about three miles out of
the limits. I was fighting them successfully but I was exhausted and influenced
by the strange wood.
“Xylvan saw and stepped in, he made them believe the other was the
enemy and killed each other. From then on we worked together and then we
became lovers. I left him in his sleep to come here. I will meet him on the first
night of spring. I need to have him. He does not know about what I did, he does
not know any of this, he knows me as I am.”
“You left him because you saw Larken‟s message.” Sabrine was having a
very difficult time absorbing all of this but she had wanted to hear it. In order to
know her sister, in order to have her sister truly return to them she needed to
bridge these years.
“Yes.” Mirane said.
18
See Biography Part the Second. See also Tales of the Francinian Wood by Charlt Maguir
Secrets and Illusions 123
“Will Xylvan be there that night?”
“I do not know.”
“Will you tell this story again?”
“No,” Mirane felt the blood, hers and all that she had spilt now well inside
her. She wondered if she cried whether it would pour out of her eyes and cover
Sabrine. “Do you understand?‟
“Yes.” Sabrine and Mirane lay quietly listening to each other‟s breathing
and watched the morning sky grow brighter with the dawn. “Happy Birthday.”
“Thank you.” Mirane smiled widely and tried not to believe that she had
let all of the evil of her story into the air by telling it. I told her stories all the time
and I never had to worry about letting them out. Of course, my stories were
never so terrifying.
“Do you usually linger this long in bed?” Sabrine asked with a smile full
of mischief and good cheer. Sabrine needed to feel light again, she needed to
know sister but, more than that, she needed to love her.
“When in a bed, I linger.”
“No wonder you sew so badly. Personally I‟m almost afraid to even think
about your cooking.”
“Hey.” Mirane rolled on top of her sister and began to tickle her. Sabrine
laughed very loudly and their parents came to the door afraid for their daughter
and nearly yelled at the girls for making so much noise before they realized that
Secrets and Illusions 124
they were women and that there was nothing so incredible or joyous as the
racket they were making.
Secrets and Illusions 125
Damal Nights
Despite the weather, no man, woman or child, lingered in their homes.
Every able body was crammed into Marule‟s inn. All the tables had been moved
to an already packed room. Children sat cross-legged at the front while their
parents sat on any bench or chair that would hold them. Marule‟s wife moved
deftly among the crowded room bringing drinks to thirsty patrons. I came down
from my room, already dressed in my Sian clothes, to a full house. I scanned
their minds for ideas. The night before they had no ideas as to what they should
expect but tonight their brains were vibrating with secret wishes. The dramatic
folk tale and exotic animals had whet their appetites for something more foreign,
but the after the hard labor of the day they we hungry for something lighter, and
with the children in the room their minds were pressing for a story with
children.
I stepped through the crowd while I thought about any story that would
delight them and I had my story before I reached the front of the room. I turned
to face the crowd. Among illusionists, battle illusionists are held in highest
regard, they are respected and adhere to a certain military dignity, especially
those borne by a queen. I stood in front of the audience that expected a
performer, not a rigid Queensguard, and looked into the expectant faces of the
small children in the front row and tried to be, merely, entertaining. It was far
more difficult.
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“Good evening,” I said aloud but also inside their minds. They looked
around amazed. Before the show began they were smiling. “So what kind of
story would you like tonight?” I sat down on the hearth and stretched my legs
out long in front of me and folded my hands in my lap. A certain sense of mild
confusion fell across the minds in the room. Noone said anything but merely
looked at one another. I smiled. I tried to smile like Mirane does when a
situation is uncertain; I tried to stretch my lips gently and reassuringly across my
teeth but such a smile is awkward on my face. So I winked, instead, and drew
my lips back together.
“Tonight, I have a story for the children,” I said aloud. :With something
for their parents, too. : I whispered into their minds. “Are you ready?” I asked
the children looking intently into their eyes.
“Yes,” they cheered.
“Alright then,” I returned and made myself comfortable on the raised
hearth leaving a small place on the floor for my audience to focus on. My
illusions would be both in their minds and projected in that space. I had trained
in techniques for both, and both had their advantages over one another in one
aspect or another but I found I was most successful when I used both, especially
in this foreign south country. Here, as they had no language from one mind to
another save audible and verbal, they also required certain visual stimula. The
most comprehensive illusion was the one created for both.
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I created for my audience my own childhood room: pillows surrounded a
sunken floor of Torilian hexagonal tiles, sculpted animals hung from the domed
ceiling; my bed tucked into a custom niche lined in green Hysyl and, of course,
all of the study implements of a school aged boy. Then, slowly, I brought in four
Sian boys, my brothers and I, all seated on the pillows. Juminatwe, my eldest
brother was sitting with his legs crossed. His long Hysyl pants touched the
muscles of his equally long legs. His long black hair fell straight down his back
and spilled like a ribbon over the pillows. He was fifteen years old and had yet
to take on the Gryth girth he would get the following year. He looked very
much younger than his years, to the kids in the front row of the tavern. I sat
across from him. I was just as tall as „Twe and even slighter. I had my hair
pulled back in a single knot chain. „Twe and I were distinguishable by our eyes,
my gold and his blue gold, as if the sky were reflected on the back of a spoon. I
was thirteen years old but the children in my audience would have thought me
only ten or twelve. Next to me sat my younger brothers, Jynquill and Kyjhime;
they were eleven and nine, respectively. Jynquill is, by far the smartest of us
and so when we tell this story amongst ourselves, we always blame him for
having not stopped us. He blames „Twe for being the oldest and Kyjhime and I
ride it out, goading our brothers on. Jynquill sat on the pillows, superimposed
by, b’yaliar illusion,over a hard wood floor thousands of miles south of his home,
looking so lifelike to me, I expected to see his long thin face look to me, the
performer, and ask, “What are you doing, brother? What happened to that great
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mind of yours?” Jynquill was always very concerned with matters of the mind.
Kyjhime sat there, too. Kyjhime was the child of our hearts. Kyjhime arrived
after „Twe and I looked at our younger brother and knew he would be no fun at
all. When we reported this to our father, he reluctantly, agreed. Though we
knew little of the mechanisms involved, it was less than a year later the vivacious
bouncing boy was born to my mother. Jynquill, at a very precocious two, took
one look at the newest arrival and said with perfect open-faced sincerity, “That is
what we need.” And that was our family as we wished it, us four boys.
I saw us sitting on those cushions and remembered why we were
gathered there. “The Princess is turning three.” Juynquill said. We may have
wished for our family to never change but as princes of the great Queen Tearisia
we had to accept that it would. That day was marked by the birth of our sister,
the Princess Helenestra, who by law, must succeed our mother. Sadness,
betrayal, reluctance, and bitterness were pushed instantly away the moment we
four saw our newborn sister. She took our breath away.
“I want to get her the most perfect gift.” Kyjhime said first, but we were
all thinking it.
“Father gave us money, if we combine it we can get her the most
expensive gift, ever.” I added. I had a thing about my dad. I never wanted him
to be forgotten. It seemed, if I were not careful he would disappear into his
workshop and my family may never notice. I was particularly careful about this
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in matters concerning Helenestra. He was not her father and I never quite
reconciled that.
“Not possible, there are so many courtiers there, we will never outspend
them.” „Twe said and we nodded.
“We must give her something that only her brothers would give her. “
Jynquill said firmly and we had all long ago agreed that he was the most wise in
matters like these.
“We should give her a pet.” Kyjhime‟s face lit up, he was certain it was a
great idea.
“She does not have any pets.” „Twe agreed.
“That is why it is a great idea.” Juynquill announced.
“What will we get her?” I asked.
“A mirror lizard.” Kyjhime was the authority on reptiles. He had read
everything he could get his hands on and he was sure. I conjured an image of a
mirror lizard for my audience. They are, admittedly, small harmless animals no
longer than a child‟s hand. Similar to other chameleon animals they take on the
colors of what they are hiding on, however, these could take on multiple
textures, colors and patterns along the short length of the lizard. They were the
best-known concealed animals in the world. Anything better, had not yet been
discovered.
“Little girls do not like lizards.” „Twe said uncaring for Kyjhime‟s feelings.
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“I‟m afraid he‟s right.” I said, “but let us get a swamp sloth.” I conjured
an image of a cute swamp sloth cuddling against our little sister.
“They smell like swamps.” „Twe shot my proposal down just as he had
Kyjhime‟s.
“We shall get her a firebird.” The three of us looked at Juynquill.
Juynquill was not prone to any whimsy, so he was clearly serious. I provided
my audience, again, with an image of the animal. Firebirds were incredibly
beautiful. They came in all kinds of colors. They had long tails that sparked all
day in sweet tiny fireworks, and once a day they burst into glorious flame. For
such a violent creature, they had sweet plaintive faces and wide black eyes.
“Do they not explode into flame?” Kyjhime ventured.
“Just once a day.” Juynquill as if it were nothing.
“No, we shall get feathered boa.” „Twe said. “A feathered boa is the best
gift for a small girl. They are fun, they can be chased, they can be worn, they can
be cuddled and they do not burst into flame.”
“There is nothing wrong with a mirrored lizard.” Kyjhime returned.
Clearly, he had not abandoned the idea.
“A feathered boa is far superior.” „Twe declared.
“Hardly, when compared to a firebird, they are glorious.”
“You mean, dangerous.”
It was not long before all of us boys were fighting. Though we would
never have come to blows, I did stage a tussle for my audience‟s pleasure.
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Finally, Juynquill separated himself. “I do not need any of you to contribute to
my gift. I‟ll get her my own thing.” And once said, it was agreed that we would
give different gifts. In a huff, each of us went off in our separate directions.
My audience, at the inn, watched in turn as each boy purchased and
smuggled their gifts home with them, each stubbornly sticking to the pet he had
proposed. I showed Kujhime working on a tiny model of Helenestra‟s nursery in
which to present the lizard. Then I showed his room entirely covered in white
powder, trying to track the tiny lizards tiny footprints in the powder. Kujhime
quickly was covered head to toe.
Juynquill, for all his reading had failed to discover one very important fact
about firebirds. They do, in fact, burst into flame once a day, an experience that
was not too destructive, but that it lasts eight or more hours once ignited. This
discovery had him creating a make-shift enclosure for the bird in an antique
porcelain fireplace. I was careful that each of the children saw Jynquill‟s very
charred eyebrows.
Next, I showed myself. As cute and cuddly as a swamp sloth may have
been in my mind, I had done no additional research. I enlisted several of my
friends to help me remove the very pungent odor that consumed it and
permeated everything that it touched. I learned two of the most important
things I know now, that day. Swamp sloths bite and they do not like baths. My
arms, and those of my cohorts, were scored and bitten by the not-so-slow sloth
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before we had it back to its perch, where it licked its lips at us and then went to
sleep for the next thirty-seven hours.
Finally, I showed my brother Juminatwe and his purple and black
feathered boa. The thin creature had an abundance of long puffy feathers. It
squibbled and looped playfully around the room. It wrapped itself around his
neck and nuzzled his cheeks. It was the most energetic and loving creature „Twe
had ever met. He was delighted by it and played with it all day. What he
learned about feather boas is that they love to play and they do not like to be
ignored. As soon as Juminatwe rest his head and closed his eyes to sleep he was
jarred awake by the harsh metallic scream, “Huhruhnnng!” that reverberated
through his room, his head, and probably the entire Queensrealm. He leapt
awake to find it staring sweetly at him ready to play.
“I‟ve got to sleep, little guy,” he cooed and reached out his arm and let it
encircle it. Juminatwe slid back into his bed and tried again to sleep.
“Huhruhnng!” It screamed again. It screamed like this anytime he tried to leave
it, do something else, sleep, or turn his playful hands away.
None of us could wait for the day we could give our gifts to our sister.
“And on the day of the birthday,” I said to my audience. “All of the court
was there.” I showed my Gryth audience the fantastic clothes and dances of a
Sian court. I showed them my mother in all her splendor. I showed them my
very Gryth father, dressed in his unique hybrid of styles. And I showed them
the tower of gifts that awaited my young sister.
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Each of our gifts was waiting outside in the corridor. At the party,
Helenestra would only open the family‟s gifts so my mother called for each of us
in turn. “Kujhime, bring in your gift,” she said. Kujhime had located the lizard
and put it into the tiny model he had made. He joyfully ran to get it and
presented it to her with such pride. She opened it and immediately smiled. “For
my dolls?”
“No, for this.” Kujhime pointed at the lizard and it moved when my
brother poked it. Helenestra slid her delicate hand in and poked it, too. She
screamed. The lizard went scurrying out of the diorama and into the guests.
Our mother motioned for a guard to search for it. Helenestra looked at us for
meaning. “A mirror lizard.” Kujhime said with pride, “you will see when I get it
back.” Mother gave us a pointed look of warning and then smiled. “Juynquill,
why do you not go next?”
“Yes,” Juynquill looked patently relaxed and relieved. Juynquill had
migrated the ignition to the exact time he would present the gift. He took it from
the corridor and brought it in, in all its glory. Suddenly, furtive whispers
surrounded us. “Is that what I think it is? Are they not illegal?” Juynquill was
on unfamiliar ground but he stuck to the idea that he was in the right. He
reached the bird as high as his eleven-year old arms could go and said, “To my
radiant princess.” Just then the bird whooshed into tremendous flames. No less
than ten guards came with water to extinguish the bird and to rush it outside.
Secrets and Illusions 134
To credit my mother‟s elegance and grace, no flash of anger touched her
face. She bowed her heads to the heroic guards and despite the horror of what
could have happened to two of her children, which she radiated to everyone in
her family, she merely reached out her hand to her son and took Juynquill up on
her lap.
“‟Teal, do you have a nice gift for your sister.” There was a significant part
of me that wanted to walk out of that room and never walk back in, but perhaps
she would like my gift, so I retrieved it. As soon as it entered the room, the first
most sensitive noses began to twitch. “What is that odd smell?” they said. I
pressed forward, preceeded only by wrinkled noses and sharp intakes of breath.
I brought my swamp sloth to my sister who gingerly reached out to touch it. To
my great surprise; it did not bite her, it bit me. I was relieved of my present
almost as quickly as Juynquill had been relieved of his. “Clearly, my sons felt
their sister needed a special companion.” My mother said and the court laughed
with her. Her eyes turned to „Twe and I think „Twe shrank a little. Some sort of
discourse occurred between them and mother forced a smile on her face. “It
seems they all agreed. Go Juminatwe, let us see this piece of the natural world.”
The court held its breath while „Twe went to get his gift. He left the room
and returned with the most stunning feathered boa we had ever seen.
Helenestra was immediately delighted by it and it squittered around her with
equal enthusiasm. She giggled and it nuzzled, she squealed and it shook. They
were a perfect match until our mother picked up her youngest child to be seen by
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the whole court. “Happy birthday, Princess Helenestra.” The court sang her song
and the attention was away from our gifts.
It was at that juncture that a faint hearted older lady located the mirror
lizard burrowing beneath her breast. She screamed and alerted everyone to the
problem. Kujhime leapt to her aid, pushing her expensive beaded shirt away
from her dropping bosom to find the lizard. Our mother ordered him back and
the guards forward. It was utter chaos for a Sian court, and it was the moment
that the feathered boa realized it was being neglected and released its most
desperate cry. “Huhrungg!!” throughout the nervous systems of all present.
Mother stepped down from her Dias to grab the creature when she began to
fitfully sneeze, a sound that deeply offended the feathered boa.
“Huhrungg!”
“Achoo!”
“Huhrunngggggg.”
“Achoo, Achoo.”
“Momma, don‟t hurt it.”
“Achoo, achoo.”
“Hahrunngggg.”
“I have the lizard.”
“Achoo.”
“Nobody move, I think I dropped it.”
“Huhrunnggg.”
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“Achoo. Achoo, pleathe, thumone, take thith think.”
“Alright, I have the lizard.
“Huuuhrungggg.”
“Clear the court.” Our father‟s voice rose above them all.
Within moments, the courtiers had disappeared, the animals were spirited
away and we were left to face our very red-in-the-face mother and our
disappointed sister. Our father took the youngster and held her on his hip
giving her little kisses on her head. He may not have fathered her but he loved
her just as deeply. We brothers had no place safe to look except at each other.
My audience was rolling on the floor so I decided to end the illusion there
with none of the dampening consequences. I resurrected the image outside the
menagerie my father designed to house our gifts. My mother made sure there
was constant attention and care given to each of these unique animals even if the
feathered boa found its way into the house more often then she cared to know.
I sent my Damal friends to their homes laughing and recalling their own
childhood antics. Then I retired to my own room feeling homesick for my
family. My brothers had been my entire life until my apprenticeship at nineteen
with my uncle Juminatwe. That was the year my brother Juminatwe married,
and the year Juynquill took up permanent university residence and Kyjhime
poured himself into his studies. I have not seen them in almost eight years.
Certainly in that time, Kyjhime had come up for air and Jynquill had returned
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home and Juminatwe might even have children. Kyjhime could even be married.
I wondered then, if I might have been summoned home for these events.
Suddenly my time here seemed to be an exile rather than an adventure. I
resolved again to return. I resolved then to return with Mirane. I would not go
home with eight wasted years. And just as I would not consider that Mirane
would not choose me over her husband, I would not consider that my mother
and family would not want me to return. What could I have done that would
have merited such an exile?
Just as my thoughts were spiraling to answer that question, the lovely
Sorcha slid into my room. I smiled at her and she handed me a goblet from the
bar. “Have a drink. That was such a wonderful performance tonight. Where
was that?”
“My home.”
“Sian?”
“Yes, my mother‟s palace.”
“It is very beautiful, so different from here.”
“There is great beauty here,” I said, taking the goblet from her hand.
“What is this?”
“Just a little of the house brew.” She replied.
“It is delicious.”
“Yes.” We did not talk for long. I finished my drink and put it on the
bedside table.
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“Do you have your room?”
“Yes,” she answered moving closer to me. Already my head was heavy.
She leaned closer and kissed my shoulder. She was so very beautiful there. She
looked up, her wide Gryth eyes looking at me, expecting love, and expecting
everything. Those eyes were filled with need; I had never seen such a thing in a
woman or a lover. Through a sleepy haze I could see two paths like a dream.
One path was the difficult martial path I had set out with Mirane, often
dangerous, often too twisty to follow and never going in the direction I think it
should go. The second path, still foreign, still exotic, but wide and opening, clear
and easy. The paths blurred in front of me as my head got heavier. Soon there
was nothing but dreams, unbroken till morning.
The next night, Marule filled his inn again, with no room for tables. The
snow had stopped and the skies had opened up to the sunlight in the waning
hours of the day. This would be my last night here. The villagers were pressed
closer to the hearth than last night. I stepped over them and took my place at the
front of the room. Excited faces looked at me with anticipation. I already knew
the story I would tell. I looked at the eager faces of the children in the first row.
They wanted something scarier than last night‟s tale and I hoped this would be
gory enough for them. I could always control the imagery in their minds.
“Good evening,” I said, “Thank you, again, for hosting me, while I waited
out the storm. I hope you have enjoyed my stories and they have paid my keep.”
Secrets and Illusions 139
The audience whole-heartedly agreed. A Sian storyteller could do quite well
touring this country, I thought.
I set the stage, a dark wood and four fighters. The trees were close
together entwining their limbs above the fighters‟ heads. Beams of light entered
through the canopy when and where they could and shot passed the fighters. I
watched them from above, as I had on that day.
Together, on one side, were three dangerous men, one the other side was
an even more dangerous woman. There was nothing spectacular in either their
dress or appearance besides the powerful beauty of the woman. The men were
nothing. The woman was Mirane, and this was the first time I laid eyes on her.
This is the occasion that I saw what she was and decided to follow her anyway.
In my illusion, swords clashed and the red haired woman slashed at the
eldest of the men. She held her very heavy sword in two hands whacking away
at him, slashing at him as if he were no more than underbrush. He defended as
best as he could but her blade cut through him. He dropped so much slower
than I had ever seen anyone fall. His body still believed it had life in it buts as
the death spread down from his neck, through his torso, down his legs to his feet
each part of him crumbled.
At this both surviving brothers turned tail and fled. Mirane could scarcely
believe it. She ran after them, cutting through the early spring debris with no
thoughts of stealth. They were able to keep up a respectable pace and it was an
unreal time before she and they faced one another again.
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The men had both drawn their blades now and she was forced to fight
them at once. She stayed focused concentrated on one blow at a time.
After some time it seemed almost that she would lose. She prepared
herself for that and grew angry. Through her anger, she grew stronger and
managed to gouge one of the men. This was when the battle took a strange turn.
Both men began to fight each other. They gouged at each other‟s faces and
within moments delivered fatal blows. Mirane stepped back during the fighting.
She had never seen anything like that. She looked around the forest and
wondered again if the legends of it were true, we were after all in the Francinian
Wood, a place steeped in haunted legends.
My Inn audience knew of it and was taut with excitement.
In this case it was no haunting but my own interference that caused the
shift in battle. I had been taking refuge in the forest canopy. The old growth
trees had enormous branches and it felt safer up there than on the vulnerable
ground. I had camped there during the night and had woken to the sounds of
the fight. I could have remained there; they would never have seen me. I
suppose I would be back in Sian now, had that been the case, but I had not. I
scanned the minds of the combatants. The men had committed horrible crimes
for which they had shown no remorse, well so had many Gryth, I was not their
god or judger. I might never have interfered if the course of it had not changed
so much in their favor. Her mind was difficult to read, to see. I could sense from
her clarity of purpose but nothing else. Perhaps, I could have scanned further
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and learned that she was the hunter and they the prey, but it would not have
changed anything for I was a young man then, enchanted by a great beauty, a
warrior princess, a mythic huntress, and I could not have caused her to come to
harm.
However, I did not expect to see what I ,then, saw.
Mirane went to the bodies and checked for any signs of life. There were
none. She pulled out a sack she kept for this purpose and laid it beneath the
larger man‟s head. With a strong graceful swing she lopped it from its torso and
shimmied it to the bottom of the bag. She did the same for the second. When
she stood a slight breeze rustled through the wood. “I‟ll leave you the rest.” She
called out to the unseen forces as she wiped her blade clean on the inside of the
sack. She turned to find the third brother. The path they cut should be easily
enough retraced. She hoisted the sack of bloody heads onto her back and started
for the wood.
“Madam,” I said from behind her. She was startled. Slowly, she turned
expecting to see almost any ghastly thing. Instead, her eyes directly met mine.
“Are you alright?” I broke the silence and looked at her expectantly.
“Yes,” Mirane answered surprised. Of course she was, she had had the
unique presence of mind to bring a bag for the heads.
“I am quite relieved.” I said feeling a little like a hero, Mirane looked at
me.
“Are you alright?” she asked.
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“Oh, yes.” I replied.
Mirane suddenly realized the source of her victory. “Did you make them
kill one another?” She did not quite believe it, but she could not, not ask.
“No,” I lied, “Not exactly.” I dodged. Mirane noticed my evasion but she
did not pursue it further.
“Thank you. You saved my life.” Mirane was grateful.
“You are welcome.” I said softly after both had taken long looks at one
another. Mirane finally was able to break the spell.
“Thank you.” She said again with a clumsy tongue. She turned to go.
I watched her start away. “Madam, it is not safe here.”
“It is safe enough.” Mirane answered. Between us was a long moment of
silence. Mirane started to lift the bag but she didn‟t look away.
“May I accompany you to your home.” I blurted out.
“No, thank you,” she answered, too quickly.
“Then where you are going, then.” I said as quickly. Was I trying to be
with her? She wanted to know, Mirane stopped herself in that thought.
“Alright, then.” She answered and stepped closer to him. “My name is
Mirane.”
“Xylvan.” I replied with a wide smile.
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In my illusion, I showed my audience the awkward beginning of us, the
long moment of looking at each other trying to span the distance of two vastly
different creatures, and the whim of a moment that fused our paths.
I followed her to the site of the first body and watched her take its head
and put it in the sack with the others. I did not ask any questions about it. She
did not say anything, either. Occasionally, she looked at me, she thought that I
was beautiful. Occasionally, she caught me looking at her, too. When we
reached the outside edge of the woods Mirane paused then and looked straight
at me preparing to lay out the situation for me. She would rather me leave her
company now, after a mere two hours than later. She knew even after these two
hours she felt a link to me and did not think she would ever want to be separated
from me. I, of course, learned of this so much later, but I should have known by
the way she looked at me, and by the way I look at her. I was just as transfixed
and just as enchanted.
“So where are we taking these heads?” I asked. The question itself felt
strange in my mouth. Have I ever uttered that sentence? I could not think of any
time when I had to inquire of such a thing. No one in my audience had ever
asked that question either.
“I have a man in Marrak who will pay one hundred pieces for them.”
Mirane answered curtly. I looked at her very closely, wishing I could read her
mind. I forced myself to smile over my discomfort.
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“That is a lot of money.” I said, hoping that that was the proper thing to
say.
“It‟s a good start.” She answered. “I suppose you will be wanting a
share.”
“No,” I said defensively but also very honestly. I wanted to be able to
reach the end of my life and answer the question, „have you ever sold another
man‟s head for money?‟ with a clear no.
“Well, we both have to eat.” She answered non-chalantly deciding to
share the wealth. Mirane looked at me again wishing that she could read my
thoughts. Later, she will remember this with irony.
“Yes,”
“We‟ll see.” She answered launching her long legs into a broad stride. I
followed her and matched her step for step.
After another hour of walking the sun began to set and the temperature to
drop. I was shivering despite our solid pace. Remembering my warm quilted
coat, I pulled it out of my backpack. For every story my father had told us, it still
surprised me how very cold it was in this country. Once I had wrestled the coat
on Mirane began to laugh at me. She thought I was overdressed for our mission.
Instead of telling me that, however, she stopped laughing and glared at me, as if
I had wasted her time.
“I‟d like to get there, tonight.”
“Good,” I said, “I‟d prefer not to sleep beside your delivery.”
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“Squeamish?” she teased.
“No, I‟d think they‟d attract animals.”
“Hungry ones.” Mirane winked.
“What sort would we encounter?” I asked trying to sound casual as if it
did not matter to me. As if the most terrifying beast were to approach us with
salivating lips, that would mean nothing to me, hell, I might just invite him over.
But my voice failed to convey the casualness I intended. “Rywolves, Forestcats,
maybe a Rainworm, but it will not care about the heads. Our biggest threat
would be the Willowbeast, if they are up for the season, they will be hungry.”
“What is a rainworm?”
“Do they not have them where you are from?”
“No.”
“They live in the swamps, mostly in the south where it is colder but they
have been seen this far north. I saw one myself last winter. Are you concerned
about animals?”
“No, I‟ve never had a problem,” a true statement, as far as it went. My
experience in the country court of my uncle or in my mother‟s palace was
blissfully free of rainworms which I imagined were small and slimy and fell from
the sky.
It was another hour by the time we reached Marrak. Mirane led us
through the dark streets to a certain Lord Youl‟s house and she knocked loudly
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at the door. The young Lord Youl admitted us. He barely gave me a look. “I did
not hire you?” he said half-questioning. He had been drinking heavily.
“No.” I brushed off his drunkenness.
“I have what you wanted.” Mirane said, “Shall we go to your den?”
“Of course, let‟s go to the den.” He said this very loudly as if there were
another person hiding in the walls. Mirane looked around for anyone else but
the house was silent. We followed him down the hallway and closed the door
behind them.
“Our agreed upon price.” Mirane held out her hand and the bag. “Do you
wish to see them?”
“Yes.” Again, his voice was awkwardly loud. He refused to take the bag
from her. Mirane cleared a place on his desk and dumped them out. She faced
them all toward him, squarely on their neck stumps. I modulated the blood and
tearing for my audiences‟ comfort.
“These are the men?” She said abruptly as Lord Youl alternately looked
closely at them, and then upon discovering their ghastly visages, leapt away.
“These are the men.” His voice was soft.
“Our agreed upon price.” Mirane repeated. She could smell him, the
liquor had penetrated his skin and veritably soaked him. It made her nauseous.
She kept her mind on business.
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Without removing his eyes from the dead, he pulled his purse from his
waist. Wordlessly, he handed it to her. “This is the whole amount?” she asked
weighing the coins in her hand.
“Do you want to count it?” he challenged her.
“Yes,” I said, when it seemed that Mirane could not see that he was clearly
lying, “You are lying,” Mirane knew whom she believed. Lord Youl backed up
away from her suddenly and with great fear.
“Give me the rest.” Mirane asserted.
“It is all I have,” he replied.
I looked at him. There was no doubt in the matter. For whatever reason
he wanted the heads and Mirane had acquired them for him, it was only fair that
she be paid. It was not hard to insinuate into his mind the illusion of movement.
Each head seemed to come alive to him. For the children in the audience they
sang a funny little song that only the child knew and found funny while for the
adults they whispered to him of all his deep secrets. These heads sat there on the
desk singing and hissing, their faces completely alive and ridiculous in their
mortum while he stared at them in utter disbelief and horror.
Lord Youl‟s scream shattered the silence of his house. No one came, but
he continued to shriek. “Be silent!” he screamed.
“Where is the money?” I asked, pretending to be completely unaware of
why he was so upset.
“Top drawer, Top drawer.”
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Each head took it in turn, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“Mirane, the rest of the money is in the top drawer.” I just watched the
man, I had hoped other men of this country would be more like my noble father
and less like my swine uncle but I had to confess there were few good specimens
yet. Mirane found the additional money quickly and poured the coins into her
purse. “Say, thank you,” I advised this man.
“Thank you.” Lord Youl said keeping his eyes fixed to the heads. Then
the man started to calm down.
“Thank you,” Mirane said smiling.
“Go! Now!” he shouted at us. We left him spewing his drunken shouts at
us while we quietly went away.
“I think, perhaps it would be better to sleep, elsewhere.” Mirane said as
we both, fleet-footedly, left town. Mirane did not trust men with unearned
power or men in their cups.
“Agreed.”
I hoped that this particular illusion would keep them from preventing my
leave both for its questionable taste and the fact that any man who would follow
a swordswoman-head-trader was going to be undeterred in his quest to reunite
with her. Regardless, the novelty of the illusions and even the odd little tale
itself was a success with the villagers.
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Secrets and Illusions 150
Immersion
Sabrine went home to her husband and Mirane got up for the day. She
dressed in the very modest dress that her aunt had made for her half way
through last week. Mirane always remembered how difficult it was to make new
clothes and now in under a week she had a very full wardrobe. She could not
figure the mystery out until she caught her mother showing her leggings, my
blouse and her girdle to several of the village matrons. Each time her mother
showed it, some scandalized crone got it in her mind to make her something
appropriate. Her aunt had been the most generous. The dress was very
beautiful and also relatively comfortable. This was the one she chose to wear
today.
Once she was dressed she went downstairs and had her breakfast with her
parents. They kept exchanging warm smiles between them. “So what are you
doing today?” they asked between bites of warm bread and broth.
“Today, I promised Sabrine I would go with her to Theabe‟s to help her
for the morning and this afternoon when Larken returns I plan see his
workshop.”
“Good.” They looked at her with a content smile.
“Yes, I seem to be in demand, now, but soon the novelty will wear off and
I will have to find something more productive.”
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“I do not think the novelty will go away.” Her mother said this as if it
were a fact.
“I hope not.” Mirane smiled. All her life she had been able to disarm
people with her smile, which no one ever thought of as less than beautiful. She
had good teeth that she had always made an effort to care for. Her lips spread
across them at the right times and never too quickly.
“Will you be home for dinner?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Her father said with satisfaction and then got up from the table.
“I will see you then.” He kissed her on the head and then left.
“He is glad to have you here.” Her mother said this in the mother tone
that let you know that you had better be very grateful.
“I had better go to Sabrine‟s.” Mirane got up from the table and grabbed
the long cloak she wore when she arrived. She had to fight them to keep them
from embroidering it with flowers. Had she borrowed it from me she might
have agreed but there was no way that she could resume next season with daisy
chains on her chest.
The village was built so that a large open space occupied the center then
was four blocks of houses at each corner of the common square. Sabrine lived in
the cluster that was furthest from her parents and shared a smaller square with
those houses but the front of her house faced the center of the village. Inside it
had shiny wood floors that were waxed with a great deal of care and from the
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windows hung lace curtains. Her husband, Gyan, had made quite a success as a
tailor19. His designs were being worn in Kaira by the wealthy and were sent
much further to the east where they were sold for a quite a bit more to the very
wealthy. He had made wise contracts and received quite a bit of the profit.
Sabrine was the joy of his life and he made every effort to see that she got
everything she deserved. He would have moved long ago to Kaira had she not
wanted to stay here with her parents.
Mirane waited for Sabrine in the pretty front room that was soft with
fabric and carpets. Sabrine yelled down that she was coming but instead Gyan
stood in front of her.
“Good morning, Mirane.” He said kindly, he was a good man.
“Morning. I‟m glad the snow has melted some.”
“I am too, I need to get to Kaira tomorrow.”
“Larken is supposed to get back today, I‟ll ask him how the road is.”
“That would be helpful, it‟s not a long trip but if I‟m trudging through the
snow it will be awful.”
“I know it.”
“No problem, are you thinking of leaving tomorrow.”
“I was hoping to but I had not decided.”
“Just to Kaira?”
“That‟s as far as I need to go again till spring.”
19
See Elements of South Kairanese Design by Walte Grimchult.
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“If you need company let me know, there is someone up there I‟d like to
peek in on.”
Gyan thought about it a moment and thought of how useful it would be to
have a professional fighter accompany him. He would not have thought to ask
her but her offer was tempting. “Let me prepare, we could go in just a few
days.”
“I have nothing else, we will go when you are ready,” Mirane nodded.
“Do you think you could wear the black?” Gyan referred to the leggings
and girdle his mother-in-law had shown him. He imagined that Mirane looked
quite dangerous in that. His business mind went into action; he could transport
a few more valuable garment designs to the city with no fear of thieves.
“You are a married man.” She teased with a coy smile.
“But you are too irresistible.” Mirane was pleasantly surprised that he
had chosen to tease her in kind. She smiled and Gyan said goodbye with a smile
on his own lips. He crossed Sabrine in the doorway and kissed her on the cheek.
“Leaving so early.”
“I have a lot to do if I want to get to Kaira by the end of the week.” He
nodded to Mirane.
“Any day, Gyan,” she replied and he left the room.
“Any day?” Sabrine asked as straightened a few of the statues that Mirane
did not realize were out of order.
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“Gyan has to go to Kaira and I offered to go with him. I know a young
woman there who might need to see a friendly face.”
“Wonderful. I can never leave here with the boys.”
“What does Theabe need us to do?” Mirane stood up and watched
Sabrine work; she did not seem able to sit down.
“Once a week she decided she would have me watch the girls and she
would go visit with her girlfriend.”
“And you agreed.” Mirane could not imagine anything more terrifying
than watching small children. Theabe‟s girls were both under three and one was
still at the breast. Mirane was thankful for that, at least, she would have to
return in a small amount of time.
“It‟s just once a week and it‟s so nice to watch girls.”
“Hmmf.” Mirane tried to take comfort in this thought. She had met these
girls, though, and did not feel that they were even the slightest bit calmer or less
hassling than Sabrine‟s boys were, or for that matter any other wild animal.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes.” Mirane steeled herself for the trial to come and followed her sister
out of the very ordered pretty house to a smaller house down the block. Theabe
was pointedly ignoring the cries of the older girl and was finishing up feeding
the baby. She smiled widely, covered herself and then passed the baby to
Sabrine.
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“Good morning Mirane. You‟ll have such fun. You and a baby it‟s so
sweet.” Theabe was trying very hard to leave the house with as little
conversation as possible. She picked up Terah and put her in Mirane‟s arms so
that the child could scream directly into Mirane‟s brain.
“Good-bye Theabe,” said Sabrine cheerfully.
“Bye, enjoy.”
“Goodbye, Theabe,” added Mirane as Theabe left them behind. Theabe
was not nearly as meticulous as Sabrine. The furniture was not polished and
there was too much of it, enough for a house twice the size. Morning dishes
were still on the table and Sabrine began to clear them away. She put Linna
down in the cradle and began speaking to her so she would stay quiet. She
washed Terah and washed the dishes. Mirane looked at the baby and tried not
to make it cry. She half wanted to pick it up and see if it weighed a lot or if it
smelled any better close up and half wanted to be back at her mother‟s house.
She had held babies, her sister, of course, she must have held Theabe but it felt
alien to her. She had probably held babies all her life and never thought about it
but she really did not recall. Perhaps it was for the best that the Darungs took
that from her, too.
By the time Theabe returned to her small house, Sabrine had cleaned it
and Mirane was utterly exhausted from playing a strange game with Terah.
Theabe returned, having had a lovely morning with her friend and was almost
able to take the children back. Mirane was ready to leave but now Theabe, her
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house clean and her children calm, was ready to chat. It was lunch before
Mirane and Sabrine had an opportunity to leave. Sabrine made them a nice loaf
of sweet bread and then Mirane left.
Larken‟s workshop was quite near Sabrine‟s house. Mirane was tempted
to cut through the common land but decided to take the longer way around. It
was comforting to her to have a moment to think of nothing. She had a brilliant
mind for her specialty and had a surprising range of other subjects on which she
could discuss but in the world of relationships she would prefer not to think.
She approached Larken‟s door calmer and almost ready to handle him.
She knocked on the front door more than half hoping that he had not returned
yet. Despite her unvoiced prayer, he opened the door immediately.
“You remembered.”
“Yes, I was looking forward to it.”
“Were you?” he did not trust her. He still wanted her to suffer the
humiliation he felt that he had endured these last years.
“If you do not want me here, I will go.” She was tired of his attempts to be
cruel.
“No, come in.” Having been chided, Larken sulked but relented.
“Thank you.” She said it without reproof, like a mother who knew that
she had won a small battle.
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“I dropped by your parent‟s when I came back, they said you were with
Sabrine.”
“Yes, I spent the morning watching Terah and Linna.”
“Well, uhm.” He was visibly impressed. “Give you any ideas?”
“Plenty.” Mirane sighed heavily and Larken knew that none of them were
in the direction of remarrying him and having a house full of children.
“Would you like to see the shop?” Larken had learned since her return
that he could not assume that she would be his wife. He still expected her to
want him and to think of herself as his wife.
“I‟d like that.”
Larken led her through the house, which looked quite like her mother‟s
house and then out to an L-shaped addition. This was quite obviously the
workshop. On one wall were shelves of finished pieces, vases, kettles, pots,
dishes, jars and many other types. Some were quite heavy looking and others
were very delicate they were painted accordingly. There was table in the center
of the room covered with works in progress and at the far end was a large oven.
“That‟s the kiln.” He said this with pride and she knew that he had built it
himself. Mirane walked around the room and saw that he was obviously very
talented.
“You‟ve created some wonderful things here.” She was impressed and she
felt no need to hide that. She had on occasion seen work like this and knew that
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it was valuable. She had never purchased any but had admired it where she saw
it or was handed a substantial bill for its replacement.
“I, too, make a good living.”
“I‟m sure you do. You take these quite a distance, do not you?”
“Scolar is about as far as I get northeast but south of that I do quite a bit.”
“You are very good, I would imagine that you can demand quite a price
for some of these.”
“Some of them. Sometimes I just trade straight out. Gyan does my
clothes, can you imagine?” Larken touched his finely made tunic with pride and
Mirane remembered the small statues in Sabrine‟s sitting room and smiled.
“What do you do?” He asked quietly.
“What do I do?” she repeated, surprised that he had asked.
“Yes, you said you made a living as a fighter. What do you do?”
“I, I mean Xylvan and I, accept commissions from towns and villages,
sometimes individuals to defend them or to rid them of a dangerous person or
group. We would also show them defense strategies to help themselves.”
“And you make a living at this?”
“Actually we do not do that badly.” She said with pride.
“Is Xylvan a fighter too?”
“No, he works illusions, he makes people, the people we are fighting,
believe that they have found their fantasies. Very few continue to fight with me
when their heart‟s desire is being waved in front of them.”
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“That is a very strange way, to me, to make money.” Larken looked at her
waiting for her reaction. He could not imagine doing something as dishonest as
that. He knew as soon as he had said it that she would not like to hear it. She
looked at him and completely broke down in laughter.
“Yes it is, but that‟s what we do.” After she had recovered from her
hysterics she was able to answer him. Mirane surveyed the room. “What does
that do?” She asked pointing to his wheel. Larken showed her some more
examples of his work and then turned to her. “You have given your heart to this
man?”
“Yes.”
“How, when, what did he say that stole you?”
“He did not steal me.”
“How did he win your heart from me?”
Mirane ignored the second half of his question and answered the
question, how did I win her heart. “I did not need to take a partner. When we
met, I thought him very attractive. He won my respect shortly after that. He can
read minds and he chose not to read mine.”
“Why not? If I could read your mind, I would read nothing but your
thoughts.”
“He knew I would ask if he had violated me in that way and he wanted to
answer me with the truth, that he had not.”
Larken looked at her, he did not understand his wife.
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When it was dark Mirane took her leave. She had enjoyed her day and
she could tell that Larken was kindling dangerous hopes. He had tried to touch
her shoulder with a gentleness that seemed perilous to her. He spoke wistfully
of the type of life they could have and she was glad to find an opportunity to
leave.
“Goodnight,” Larken said as he leaned on the inside of his door. He did
not offer to walk her home.
“Goodnight.” Mirane smiled and waved. When he had closed the door
she wiped the dust from the workshop from her skirt and started home. She was
not paying attention; her mind seemed to go in circles of blank thoughts.
“Good evening.” A man‟s voice caught her and surprised her. Just to her
left was a tall man mounted high of a fine animal. She could barely make out his
features in the dark. She felt for her sword and remembered too late that it was
at her mother‟s house, “Identify yourself.” She ordered in her iciest voice.
“Excuse me.” He took offense and she could detect surprise in his voice.
“Identify yourself, now.” She repeated with cold metal in her tone. She
was not about to be surprised.
“Identify yourself.” He responded and she could tell that he was rearing
up even taller.
“Sir, I beg that you cooperate with me.” She did not want to fight this
man. She did not have her weapon or the energy.
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“I am Lord Kyltan20,” he was slightly annoyed that she had pressed the
point but he could understand that he had approached her. “I thought that I was
well enough known in this village.”
“Kyltan,” she said without any titles. She knew him. He had been the
constable since she was a child. He served her village and a neighboring one.
He was highly educated and he knew the law. She smiled. “You should not
sneak up on defenseless women.”
“You are right.” Kyltan still did not know her but he was getting the
feeling that she was anything but defenseless.
“Mirane Damaskaya,” she offered. “It‟s been a long time.”
Kyltan had heard rumor that she had returned but he had not seen her yet
and did not want to upset her parents if it were only a rumor. He quickly
dismounted and embraced the woman. “Mirane.” He squeezed her tightly.
“I think that‟s the warmest reception I‟ve received.”
“Where are you going?”
“Home.” She answered. Kyltan saw that she was walking away from
Larken‟s house. “I am staying with my parents.” She answered the unspoken
question.
“Can I see you safely to their door?”
20
See Rogether’s Kaira Formal Register pages XI-XV.
Secrets and Illusions 162
“I‟ll be alright.” Mirane smiled, she could see the windows already yellow
with the fire.
“I‟m glad you are back.” Too many years had gone by. He hurt thinking
about how he had failed to save them. He hurt to think that he was away and
that so many people‟s children had been taken. To think of the young bride he
married just before he left had been one of the ones most hurt and longest gone
had weighed on his conscience all this time.
“I‟m glad I came,” Mirane was used to this dialogue this is the way she
had answered all the questions posed to her. She was stricken now by him. “Are
you alright?”
“Yes, do you mind if I do see you home?”
“No.” She clasped his hand and together they walked to the common
house. She did not feel she should bring him to her parents.
By the time they reached the doors he seemed composed. He waved to
several other patrons and together they took a table. “I‟m sorry.”
“It‟s alright, no one seems to be immune to my return.” She smiled and he
noted that she seemed so thin almost wiry. He flashed her a look to say that she
had misinterpreted him. “Lord, do not worry about me. How are you, how are
your boys?”
“Grown and married. They help me out.”
“You do not need help.” Mirane did not lie. Kyltan was still very young,
his boys were men now but he seemed to still have the dark in his hair and age
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lines had only begun to crease his face. He stood tall and his bones were covered
with the muscle of his youth. “I hear that you have implemented security
measures for the village, I would like to hear more about them.”
“I do not know how well they are being followed now, it‟s been so long
since the last attack. People forget.” He said this with regret.
“I know. That‟s what I do, I remind them.”
“Remind them?”
“I try to at least. We travel, my partner and I, and let villages like ours
know how to prepare. It amazes me the amount of people who believe it‟s not
them.”
“Or it will not happen again.” Kyltan filled in the last bit. “When did you
escape?
“ Years ago.”
“You did not come home.”
“No, I could not.” Mirane answered. “This is better, I need to do this.”
“And your partner?”
“He needs to follow me, it seems.” Mirane smiled. “Xylvan would
probably have left the Gryth country long ago if it were not for me.”
“Xylvan of Sian?”
“Yes,” Mirane knew that he had read of them. He had that look, that look
like they had a hero in front of them.
“That is you?”
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“Not stricken are you?” She asked sarcastically.
“No,” he smiled in kind, “I just did not know, I‟ve been following stories
about you two.”
“Really, Patrich has done more than we thought.” If she ever got her
hands on that young man‟s neck again she would…
“Not stories, reports. The King is not quite sure how he feels about this.”
Mirane raised her eyebrows; she had not thought it had gotten quite so
noticeable. “He is too busy fighting the eastern war21 to care?”
“It would seem.”
“I should go, I have not seen my mother all day, she should be beside
herself by now.”
“Can I talk to you soon?” Kyltan asked.
“If you would like,” She smiled and took her leave of him. He stood and
left after her to make sure she got home safely.
21
See Winterax’ Boundary wars on the Eastern Front.
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Influences
I woke up in my Damal bed, again and now more than ready to move on.
The villagers, despite, their delight in his illusions were honest about the
weather. If they said it would start to snow then it would storm, furiously. I had
provided them with entertainment since that first night and I enjoyed it but after
a few strangely unreal nights my thoughts were more set towards finding
Mirane.
I got up, dressed and prepared to go dig. I did not even peek out my
window. “Good morning, Xylvan.” The common room seemed brighter than
usual and the innkeeper was quite cheery. “The storm is over.”
“Really,”
“Oh yes, the last of the snow fell in the night. At least for a few days.”
I ran outside to see the mound piled high on the side of the road and the
drifts sloping at the sides of homes. However, that meant nothing to me, the sun
was bright in a cloudless bright sky. The snow in the village was almost
beautiful for something so loathsome, cold and wet. I smiled to and allowed
myself to believe that I could return to my voyage.
“You‟re letting all the heat out.” The innkeeper reproved me and I pulled
the door closed. “Hungry?”
“Yes, what is for breakfast?”
“What do you want?” The innkeeper had never asked me he usually just
handed me something warm.
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“Oh, I do not know, do you have any egged bread left.”
“I‟ll make up some for you.”
“That would be great.”
“So you will be leaving today?” he asked, partially making conversation
and partially eliciting desirable information to spread about the village.
“Well, I need to get a weather forecast from Sergus but if the weather is
good then I will be going.”
“Sergus has not mentioned this yet but he will…”
“What?”
“Sergus wants you to stay the entire winter.” Marule said it like it was
confession and then looked to me to absolve him.
“He has not said anything at all.” I wondered if this was going to be a
problem.
“No, I did not think he had. He does not think that you‟ll say yes.”
“I really cannot. ”
“Your woman?”
“Yes, I have to find her.”
“Sorcha says that she will meet you in Scolar on spring night.”
“That‟s what she thinks. No, I have to find her before then.”
“I understand.” Marule said this but his disappointment was evident.
Having me had been a boon to his business, a relief to his wife, a friend to
himself and a treat to the village.
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I did not reply, I did not want to tell one more person that she had left me
in the night and that she was not my wife. I had beat myself up quite a bit
already for not having found out why she would not marry me instead of taking
her answer at face value. I never wanted to pursue her stories too fiercely; she
never wanted to tell them. Marule put the egg soaked bread in front of me and I
ate it slowly. “I have enjoyed my time here, you have all been such wonderful
hosts.”
“Go find your Mirane.” Marule cheered and smiled at me like my father
would. He wanted me to stay, so much drink had flowed passed this bar since I
arrived but I knew that it would continue to flow.
“Will Sergus have the sleigh?”
“He‟ll get it ready for you and give you directions to where to take it.”
“How does this work?”
“That village will hold onto it until someone comes down here.‟
“And the animals.”
“We have too many for the winter, we‟ll send some with you.”
I shrugged, Marule did not seem to have much better of any explanation
to give me.
“Xylvan,” Sorcha stood behind me.
“Hello.” I turned around and embraced her.
“Are you here to talk me into staying? Sergus and Marule have already
tried.”
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“I would not need to talk,” She smiled very seductively and I felt ashamed
and weak. “So you are leaving?”
“Yes, this is not my home.”
“We get attached to people very quickly here. Most of us already feel we
have known you a long time.”
“I may return some other winter.”
“You do not know that, you may be killed before then. Who knows what
trouble she‟ll get you into?” Sorcha was teasing me.
“I might.”
“You might. I‟m here to make sure that you do go and find her.”
“You do not want me to stay.”
“No, I‟ll remember you well enough.” Sorcha continued to smile at me.
There was something in her voice that made me think, I should scan her mind to
find out what was behind that coy smile. But then I stopped, I veritably slid off
of her mind. “I was sent here to get you to think about it, though.”
“This village will stop at nothing to get what it wants.”
“Yes it will, I will be the last try.”
“And you want me to go?”
“You cannot stay here.”
“No, I cannot.”
“Well, take this with you then.” Sorcha handed me a small package
tightly tied. I went to unwrap it but she stopped him. “It is just herbs, very basic
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ones for minor ailments. I drew pictures on them so you will know what each
one is for.”
“Thank you.”
“You are welcome.” Sorcha hoisted my pack and put it on the table. She
took back the packet in tucked it inside. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yes.” I took my pack over my shoulder and followed Sorcha down the
stairs to the awaiting sleigh. At the fore of it were two huge animals covered
with long white hair. They had long necks and sweet eyes. I looked at their feet
and found that they were larger than mine were and completely circular.
“You have never seen Camlay?”
“No, they‟re lovely.”
“Yes, very bright too. These two are from Hytul; they came down at the
last storm last year. They know the way there. All you need to do is to feed them
three times per day and brush the ice out of their coats. They are very sweet and
will not give you any trouble.”
“Sounds simple enough.”
“It‟s very simple. They‟ll drive you right into Hytul in about two and a
half days. When you get there introduce yourself as from Damal, they will know
by looking at them but they like to have verification. If you meet Samyer he‟ll
ask you all sorts of questions about the Camlay, he is the breeder and trainer, he
loves them. Tell him that you were not here all summer but that they ate
prodigiously and seemed as if they would mate but did not. Tell them I told you
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to tell him that.” Sorcha nodded to me to tell him that that was all and then went
to the Camlay to nuzzle her face in their long white manes. “Make sure you
brush them.” Her hands were still in the fur as she said this and I imagined it to
be very smooth. I stepped beside her and felt the long silken hair in my own
hands and then a steady vibration. The Camlay turned and looked at me, their
eyes half closed in pleasure.
“What do you eat?” I asked the Camlay directly using a gentle voice.
“Oh, their food, enough for four days, is under the sleigh. They‟ll know
that so if they get a little fresh that‟s why.” Sorcha pointed to the seat of the
sleigh and I did not wonder what she meant by fresh.
I crawled up into the seat and Sorcha let go of the pulls. The Camlay,
realizing suddenly that they were free to go looked around to see whether
anyone was watching and very slowly began to move. I saw that all the villagers
had made a point of not watching and that the Camlay believed they were doing
something mischievous. It took a little creeping to leave the circle of buildings
that was the village but once away they picked up speed. I found that there was
very little I needed to do. I had the reigns in my hands but the Camlay found the
road marked Huytel by memory alone. I pulled my coat closer to me and
watched these magnificent animals stay above the snow and carry the sleigh
effortlessly with them. I was enchanted by the way their long hair bounced with
each step and the near silent crunch of snow when one of their massive feet
touched it. Mirane and I had once spoken about purchasing horses, but I believe
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I would advocate for Camlays in the future, this was the way to travel. They
were like pillows crossed with sheepdogs crossed with curious toddlers crossed
with homing pigeons.
That night I slept in the sleigh and the Camlay leaned up against one
another for any warmth that their long coats could not provide. Above us the
sky stretched in endless blackness speckled by a million bright star points. I
looked for familiar constellations and saw them, the huntress, the sorceress, the
temptress and the healer. They were all there just like at home. I felt crisp air
around my face but was otherwise quite comfortable ensconced in the seat and
my coat. I dreamt then of women. I dreamt of Sorcha, she was standing next to
the Camlay completely naked except for her long brown hair. I beckoned her to
me but she would not come, she had spotted someone else behind me. I could
not turn to see them but she was waving to them and smiling. She ran passed
me clutching her stomach but smiling. I watched her go but never saw the
person who had distracted her. After she had gone, I‟radai approached me. “I
should not be here, your uncle would not approve. Your mother would be very
unhappy.” Her face was pinched and she was in a hurry to leave. I looked after
her retreating figure, it was easy for her to leave me, she without a word. Then I
dreamt of Mirane. Her hair was completely loose around her and bright like fire.
Her eyes were angry and her sword was drawn. She was fighting an enemy I
could not see and she was losing. I stood and tried to cast an illusion but it
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failed. I could not find any mental trace of her opponents. She tossed her sword
away from her but it came back at her and sliced her open. I screamed in grief as
Mirane‟s bowels spilled out onto the snow. While she lay bleeding, I frantically
tried to return her organs back into her and tried desperately to stop the
bleeding. Then my mother arrived. She was dressed entirely in white flowing
robes and a tall crown. Every inch of her was embroidered or encrusted with
silver and white gems. Her long black Sian hair was swept, dramatically above
her head and strung through the jeweled hair rack. She appeared far taller than
she stood in just her flesh. She came and stood over us both and cried. My
mother never cried, never for a moment had a tear even splashed her face. Now
tears fell like icicles on my back and into Mirane‟s wound. Each fell and crashed
like shattering crystal on them. She said my name.
I woke suddenly and saw that nothing around me had changed. The
Camlay were asleep and dawn was still many hours away. I was greatly upset
by the dream. What did this portend? At best it meant that I would return to
Sian and at worst. I did not want to consider the worst, losing Mirane to where I
could not follow her. I lay awake and tried to tell myself it would not happen if I
could find her. If I could help her fight that enemy and tell her who it was then
she would not die. She would not die by her own sword.
I had never been so glad that I was not a seer. My dreams foretold
nothing. There was no meaning beside that which I created. These women were
always on my mind, now they are in my dreams as exaggerations and fears. I
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was thankful that tiredness soon reclaimed me and I slept again a sweet
dreamless sleep.
The Camlay, in their own hurry to return to Huytel, took only short
breaks during the day and ate more food than I thought was necessary. They did
not stop at nightfall as they had done the previous evening and they continued
for a few more hours. Eventually, I made them stop and they seemed to
cooperate. They closed their eyes and pretended to sleep. Once I was asleep
they quietly hauled me the rest of the way there, they knew there were only a
few short hours left.
“Sir.” Someone was shaking my shoulder and speaking to me. “Sir.”
I startled awake. It was still night but morning was not far away. A man
was standing at my head. “Hello.”
“Hello, welcome to Huytel.”
“Already?”
“Already.”
“We left yesterday.”
“It seems they were homesick.” The man was nodding to the Camlays.
They just trotted up. He turned and gave me a surprised look but then turned to
nuzzle into the Camlay‟s long fur.
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“They must be exhausted.” I stood up and touched them but they
vibrated happily, their eyes closed in pretend sleep as if to say „we have no idea
how we got here, you told us to sleep, look we are sleeping.‟
“They have minds of their own.”
“They let you know everything they need and then kidnap you in the
middle of the night.
“You know Camlay.” They man laughed and then quieted down to be
sensitive to the dark windows above. “Come in, we‟ll get them bedded down
where they should be and then we‟ll get you back to sleep in a bed.
“I‟m Xylvan. The Damal lent the sleigh to me, they said you would know
how to get it back.”
“Nice to meet you Xylvan, I‟m Samyer. I‟ve missed these guys all
summer.” Samyer nuzzled up to their warm bodies and they audibly vibrated. I
knew why.
I followed Samyer around as he took care of them and then he showed me
where we could catch a couple of hours of sleep. I awoke that next morning
thankful that I had no more dreams.
Secrets and Illusions 175
Rain
Despite the threat of rain I left Hytel just after mid-day. Not long after
that the skies opened up and poured a deluge of cold wet rain on my head.
Frozen droplets crept between my coat collar and my neck. I grumbled and tried
not to think about any thing worse. Worse hit within the hour. The road ahead
was completely washed out and I was forced to leave the path for the forest
where the ground was a little higher and not quite so muddy. Wet branches
whipped at me in the wind. No shelter presented itself and I promised to stop at
the first shelter I discovered whether it was dark or not.
However, it was almost dark before I caught sight of a rock outcropping
that teased me with thoughts of a dry night. When I got close I could see that
someone already had a fire going and that they might not be inclined to share.
Regardless, I moved closer.
Beneath the rock two figures sat, their backs against the wall and the fire
lighting up their faces. One was a gruff man, very large and dressed, smartly for
the weather in an oiled cape and tall oiled boots. The woman seems to have been
caught in the rain. She was dressed too beautifully to have intended to travel in
the forest.
“We have a guest.” She said looking directly at me. “Come join us.”
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I stepped forward. The man stood, scratched his beard and came to the
edge of the dry ground. He extended his hand and with a wide smile. “Please,
join us.”
“It‟s a beautiful day.”
“Sure is, have not seen rain like this since last week.” The man laughed
and I stepped under the rock.
“Rain pushed me away from the road.”
“Bridge is gone. We‟ve been looking for a way around it. Please sit. I am
Decius and this is my wife Sharey.”
“Xylvan.” I sat and wrung some of the water out of my hair into a puddle.
“My wife and I are traveling to Scolar.” Decius ventured looking to me for
a response.
“Why?” I suddenly felt that Scolar had caused all of my problems.
“We started something there awhile ago, just seeing how it is doing.”
Sharey answered. Her voice seemed familiar and she had an accent that was
very Sian. I looked again at her and she was more human looking than anyone I
had ever seen. Was that possible? “Where are you heading?”
“Kaira, I am looking for a friend.”
“A woman.” Sharey filled in for Decius.
“Is she lost?” Decius asked.
“No, I suppose not.”
“Are you lost?” Decius asked
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“Do not worry you‟ll find her.” Sharey seemed to be speaking more from
what she knew and less from encouragement. I looked at her again for several
moments.
“My wife, she knows things.”
“Knows?”
“She can intuit the future.” Decius said. “Have you not heard of the great
seer, the magnificent Sharey?”
“No, I‟m sorry.”
“Would you like me to tell you your future?” Sharey sat up on her knees
and looked at me. Her gown was spread out around her. She reached out to
touch my hand. He did not trust her.
“It only costs one coin.” Decius said and I relaxed, naturally no true seer
would charge for her services, I was willing to pay a coin for their hospitality. I
produced the coin from my pocket and gave it to the woman.
“You will find your woman outside the city. You have already had a
difficult journey; it will get easier from here. You will stay in Kaira for a few
days before you see her and in that moment you will not regret the time you
wasted. I believe that the two of you will become very important people. She is
a fighter?” I nodded. “The battles you fight will be like a drop in a puddle.
Rings will trace around it. War.”
“War?”
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Sharey relaxed for a moment and let go of my hand. “The tricky thing
about this is it is all based on what has happened to you till now. Her country
will be plunged into war if she continues what she‟s doing. You must allow that
or stop that.”
“Thank you, I think you earned your coin.” She was very convincing in
her prophecy.
Sharey smiled. “It‟s not going to rain all night, tomorrow it should be dry.
But please, feel free to stay with us tonight.”
“Our rock is your rock.” Decius smiled and gently hit the side of the
boulder with his fist.
I spent the night and ate their food. They insisted that they had more than
they needed. In the morning, I parted with an extra coin to thank them for their
hospitality and we each went our own ways. The rain had stopped and with
their directions, I found the road easily. This road was not quite as muddy and
the travel much easier, though soon the road went from a distict highway, to a
path, to a mud path in a dense swamp.
All through the morning I could not shake the feeling I was being
watched. I tried simultaneously to ignore the feeling and to surprise it. I was
able to go for a while telling myself it was my imagination; it was the rain, that
had not ceased since I had entered this swamp. I told myself it was gases given
off by the mud or it was the damn insects that bit me despite the cold. And for a
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while I would be able to convince myself and I would travel along the broken
path with a surer step. At the other times I would pretend to be a confident
traveler but then, with a sudden movement, turn quickly around to catch sight of
the eyes. I could see it, I was sure, through the corner of my eye, although I
could not see it, directly. I speculated on what or who could follow me.
Borderland Gryth was drier, more coniferous. I knew some of the strange
creatures there, the black wolves, the screaming gossamer lemur, green op‟spine,
hissing fur lizards, but this was a new place, seething with danger.
By mid-day I was no longer able to believe it was just my imagination.
There was a person or a creature hunting me and I only knew for certain that my
life depended on getting out of this swamp. I walked faster and faster, still
unable to see my stalker. Beneath my boots the ground seemed to thaw
unevenly. Gases escaped the raw mud and left ugly pustules in the dead strands
of plants.
I hoisted my pack higher on my shoulder and forced myself to look
straight ahead, I had been assured by Decius that this was the fastest and safest
path to Kaira and I refused to believe anything but that. The rain picked up and
came down in sheets deluging every living creature in this place. I saw in the
trees several animals take cover. I tried to take comfort in seeing the animals
even the more frightful ones because I could believe they were more afraid of me
than I was of them.
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I followed the winding path‟s sharp bend and a giant swamp squirrel met
my eyes not ten spans away. I stopped short. The creature was standing at full
height, my full height. Its long coat was wet and hung on it and its tail was
matted. I wondered what would make this creature live in this place of weak
trees and weaker ground. The squirrel fell to all fours and turned down another
path. I walked passed that place with trepidation but no ill befell me.
Mid afternoon came and I took faith in Denis‟s promises that the swamp
would only take me till mid afternoon. I believed at each turn that it would be
the one to see the trees become wider, stronger, the ground to become firm and
grass to grow. With each turn I seemed only to find more rain and more swamp.
Even as I wished it to end, a mud river flowed closer to my path. It undulated
and twisted just at my reach. It semelled rotten and vile and I dreaded the time
it would block my path. It was not until just before sunset, the water still coming
down in huge unrelenting drops, that I finally saw the end of the swamp. It
ended rather suddenly at a river that smelled brackish. The path was equipped
with a primitive bridge that promised much dryer forest ahead.
I stepped on the ancient boards and carefully tested their strength. It
seemed secure and I crossed. Later, when I thought about it I knew I should
never have looked back. Instead I turned. There, two giant unseeing eyes
looked back at me, not a hand span from my face. Never had I seen a creature
like this, it could have been a relative of the borderland worm that grew to 40
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spans but that creature would never be able to survive in so cold a place as this.
This creature looked more like a translucent, bloated, distended, garden worm.
I took a step back and it followed me step for step. It opened its hideous
mouth and then quickened closer. I ran to the center of the bridge and the worm
stayed with me. I was on safe ground but the worm had gotten my scent.
Mirane might be one who could thrive on panic and adrenaline but I needed
time to think. The worm‟s massive bloated body surrounded me, not touching
me but circling around me. I still had room to move, it had not yet decided to
contact or constrict like the borderland worm. The tail seemed to move of its
own volition as if it had two small brains capable of controlling this body.
More rain covered us both and splashed to the ground next to us. The
worm seemed to become larger with the rain, it became more bloated and its first
head reared up and slowly leaned into me. It opened its mouth wider than I
would have thought possible and breathed in the warmth from my body. I stood
looking up into its expressionless cold face, it could devour me whole but it only
breathed. I felt the stink of the swamp on it, in it. I looked down and saw the
blood travel through its veins. Neither of us quite knew what to make of the
other. I caught a glimpse of the second head. It was moving to wrap closer
around me. Any warmth I had, I now knew, it wanted.
My mind raced forward, if this creature got any closer it would kill me.
Much longer and thicker than any border worm this creature would enclose me
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for warmth and crush me in the process. Warmth, I found it difficult to believe I
had any left in me.
I stepped backwards, my leg hitting the body of my captor. I looked
down and thought I could escape. I planned to slide over it and then run. There
was no way of knowing how fast this thing could be. Running was not an option
and no illusion could help. This creature had no eyes, no ears; just its wide
sensing mouth. It would follow my heat. Heat. Fire. It was at that moment
when one wishes they studied harder in lessons. I could have been a mage.
Certainly a mage, or an animal trainer, or an engineer could have worked out
this problem. I was but a lost illusionist and my talents completely failed me in
all of my current endeavors. Regardless, I had to escape this thing.
I, slowly, let my pack slip off of my back and I lowered it to the ground.
Deep inside the drenched satchel was my last fire starter, the one I had been
saving. Carefully, protecting it from the rain, I pulled it out. I felt beneath the
slick leaves for something dry to burn. The top layer of leaves had protected the
thicker layer beneath. I cleared the top layer off all around me and revealed the
dry ground cover. The worm moved closer at the heat of my exertion. Before
more rain could douse us, I struck the fire starter and a fire began to spread. It
was too close for me but the worm moved closer. Its massive two-headed body
pulled me even closer to the growing flame as it allowed itself to be burned. I
took my last chance, grabbed my pack and slid across the worm‟s soaked body,
beneath my hands and my thigh, the worm‟s body was soft and too yielding. Its
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body was like the swamp itself. I stepped away and the worm moved closer into
the flames, its fear of bloating and erupting in cold was more powerful than the
searing heat that ruptured its skin and seared its blood. I felt more rainfall upon
us, the flame was nearly gone but the worm clung to the warm leaves22.
I forced myself to leave.
22
A contemporary report verifies the location of a large charred Rainworm at this time.
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Bargaining
Mirane pulled on her long black leggings and my cut down tunic. She
laced her heavy girdle and fastened her boots in place. Her hair felt tight pulled
back behind her head and her sword felt heavy at her side. She smiled widely at
the familiarity of the discomfort. She was not entirely pleased at the flesh she
had put on in the short time she had been here. Her girdle laced too tightly and
her breasts almost strained against the shirt. She would have been more upset if
she did not realize how easily all of the pounds would shed as soon as she no
longer had a warm bed and three hot meals a day. Her body was not used to the
soft treatment and it was taking every opportunity to save up for the spring.
“Mirane,” her mother took one look at her and sighed her name in
disapproval.
“ I‟m escorting Gyan to Kaira today.”
“I know,” she nearly rolled her eyes. Mirane felt like a child and it was
wearing on her. “Do you have to wear that?”
“Yes.”
“Can Gyan give you something else?”
“I do not know.” Mirane tried to answer her unspoken question of
modesty and social embarrassment with her tone.
“Maybe Larken should go with you. He‟s been on trips like these he
can…”
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“He can what?”
“Protect you.”
“From Gyan?” Mirane was trying to keep the situation light.
“No.” She said this quietly and then sadly added, “I suppose you do not
need him.”
“I do not need him to be…”
“You do not need anyone, do you?” Her mother‟s tone was more telling
than her words.
“I do need people. I need you and Papa, Sabrine and…”Mirane did not
list her entire family but mentioned my name quietly.
“Xylvan?” her mother heard her anyway. She had heard the name from
Larken and from her other daughters who had penetrated further into Mirane‟s
life than she could. She knew who I was to her and it made her unhappy.
“Xylvan, yes.” Mirane felt a great desire to be with me and a great loss to
have left me. She wondered now with a pang of regret if I missed her, this was
not the first time. Of course I did much more than she would understand.
“Xylvan, but not Larken?”
“Mother?” Mirane was not sure where her mother‟s thoughts were
leading. Mirane was never comfortable with what people did not say, when
necessary she left that to me.
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“He is your husband,” her voice was still quiet, she seemed that if she did
not reign in her voice it would shout so loudly all would know her pain and
embarrassment. “How can you not need him?”
“Momma,” Mirane grasped her hand and held it gently; she needed to
make contact with her. “Momma, I need to free him. He‟s been all-alone all this
time. He is so lonely.”
“He‟s grieved for you, with us, alone, he has been one of our family.”
“I know, Mother.”
“He needs you.”
“No, he does not, he needs a wife and children he can touch and hold
and…”
“You could be that to him. He wants that so much, “ Her mother grabbed
her long braid and looked at the richness of the color, she looked at her face and
touched it,” You would have such beautiful children. You were the most
beautiful of them all.” Her mother touched a scar that showed above Mirane‟s
blouse, as if to feel the pain of it and the regret that it marred her beauty.
“I cannot.” Mirane did not to think about children, she never would have
her own.
“But you can leave us, you can do that.”
“Not forever, not like before.”
“You will leave Larken again?”
“Yes.”
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“Leave Larken, for Xylvan?”
“I will dissolve my marriage to him.”
“Your father told me I should not discuss this with you. I should just…”
“You can talk to me about anything you want. I will not leave until spring
no matter what we say to one another.”
Mirane‟s mother thought this remark over and then shifted direction in
her inquiry. “Did this Xylvan ask you to dissolve it?”
“No, he does not know.”
“Will you marry him?” It was important to her mother.
“I do not know. I think that he would like it, he has proposed such a thing
before.” She answered honestly but she was questioning herself.
“How long will you be in Kaira?” Her mother was visibly upset. She was
only moderately comforted by Mirane‟s vow to stay. She remembered how long
she had worked to find good husbands and lives for her children. Larken was so
good when they were young. But he did not save her and she was ruined. What
was she to do now, how was any of this acceptable to a mother?
“Just over night.”
“Alright.” She said as she turned to leave.
“Momma?”
“Yes.” Her voice was weak; it had tears choking it up.
“Larken would have been an excellent husband for me. You chose him
very wisely, I did love him as a girl, but...”
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She did not turn and she waited a long time before asking, “Xylvan is
good?”
“He is very good.” Mirane smiled and her mother saw the sides of her
daughter‟s lips spread across her face. Mirane‟s family was no more immune to
the power of her smile than I ever was.
“What does he do?”
Mirane was pleasantly surprised by the question. “He‟s a battle
illusionist.”
“A what?” her mother‟s ambition overpowered her sensitivity.
“He creates illusions for our opponents to distract them.”
“Is that fair?”
“It keeps me alive.”
“Fair enough.” Mirane‟s mother nearly laughed, she pretended this
conversation was no different from one she would have with Sabrine or with
Theabe. “And his father?”
“He works with wood, now, he was a great traveler and diplomat.”
“Have you met his mother?”
“No.”
“Why not?” Sarah was almost alarmed. Mirane noticed the subtle raising
of hackles and a mother‟s defense.
“She lives very far away.”
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“You must meet her.” Her mother was not debating with her. This was
an order.
“Yes.”
“We can offer a dowry.” She was not sure if she was obligated to offer
another dowry or whether she got the one to which she went to Larken. Sarah
offered now and would figure it out when the time came.
“She does not expect one,” Sarah shot Mirane a look of shame and scorn,
“If it is necessary, I will let you know.” Mirane amended. She thought of all the
stories that she knew of the Sian and particularly of my mother and wondered,
what exactly would be a suitable dowry, but she would not insult her mother by
saying so.
“Thank you.” Mirane was sincere. She knew what it would cost for her
parents to provide a second and the offer itself was valuable.
“Good morning.” Gyan sang out as he entered the house without
knocking.
“Good morning.”
“Great! We‟re going.” He saw Mirane in her battle gear and smiled. “You
look great. So intimidating.” Gyan noted the few extra pounds she‟d gained
since arriving and tried not to think of the erotic quality they gave her and how
unprepared he was for that.
“Is everything ready?”
“Yes.”
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“Maybe you could make her something better.” Despite the talk they had
just had, her mother was not willing to accept everything about her daughter.
Gyan looked at Mirane and wondered if he was sweating. The thought of
having her fit for such tight garments left him dizzied with the most
inappropriate desire. Fortunately, he saw her sword and knew to think of other
things. He knew that she was his sister-in-law, that she was a professional guard,
that she was both married to one man and bound to another, so there was little
reason to believe he could know her in that way. To comfort himself from this
most assured rejection, if even just in his mind he reminded himself of his own
dear wife and his duty to not distract Mirane from her guard duty after all, he
was investing a lot into this trip and he did not want her to be distracted.
“Let‟s go.” Mirane stood and led them out. “We‟ll be back tomorrow.”
“Be safe.”
Mirane led them out to the street where Gyan had left the carriage with
the two very fine horses tethered to the fence. She examined the carriage and
saw that it was well made and small. There was a garment compartment
underneath the seat and it was closed with a lock she recognized to be the work
of Gorghu, one of her fellow captives. The horses, themselves, were very
gorgeous and even more expensive. She was surprised Gorghu had not advised
him against them. Any eastern raiders who came along with theft and raiding
on their mind would take one look at those animals and Gyan‟s life would mean
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nothing. For the price of the lessons learned with the Darung, she was
disappointed that Gorghu had forgotten what he had learned there.
Throughout the trip Mirane gave Gyan plenty of advice on how to secure
his wares and protect himself. Though he was interested he found that when
they arrived in Kaira he was just as relieved to hear it end. They had not met
any danger on the way. Gyan had not seen even a hint of trouble since the raid
that took Mirane years ago. That did not mean that where they lived on the
western front was safe or that anyone believed it was. Mirane had used the short
voyage to begin letting Gyan, as a villager, know what they could do to prevent
any future problems and to let him know that raiders were not the only danger.
Despite Mirane‟s good intentions Gyan could barely stand to listen. Her
horror stories put his teeth on edge. Her implication that he had forgotten that
raid was equally difficult to swallow, had he not lost his unborn child and nearly
his wife?
“Where is the buyer?” Mirane felt the cold that came with her words. The
air frosted in the winter air but it was her tone that sent Gyan to shivering.
“Not far,” he answered evenly.
Mirane went to the back of the carriage to make sure the lock was secure.
She sat on the back lip while Gyan drove through the city streets. Her long
sword was drawn across her lap earning her strange looks from the
townspeople. She was remembering.
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“Gyan!” shouted a man and Mirane swung down from the cart and faced
him. She looked down her nose at the man whose smile went from bright to
frightened.
“Mirane, this is my buyer, Sagnun.” Gyan introduced her as if only he
could hold back her fury and her strength. Mirane let him use her emotional
response to give drama and power to the meeting. “Sagnun, this is Mirane
Damaskoi.”
“It‟s nice to meet you.” Sagnun said to her extending a swollen hand
swathed in clothes that rivaled Sian garb. She thought of me and how I would
have desired his wares, especially the elaborately embroidered cuff at his wrist.
“It is my pleasure.” Mirane did not trust the man but made sure that he
did not sense that from her.
“I‟m so pleased Gyan could bring all this.” Gyan had opened the back of
the carriage and displayed the excellent pieces.
“It was not an easy task. The roads are dangerous to Kaira.” Mirane fell
into the role she was most comfortable with and was able to file away her
memories to the back of her mind.
“I know. I‟ve got to get them east.” Sagnun nodded in agreement as he
gently touched each garment. “Please, both of you come inside.”
Sagnun led them into a large room that was guarded inside and out. It
was set up as a warehouse and not meant for displaying garments. Mirane
looked around and saw clothes from all over the country and even further north
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and west. Some she had never seen, some with tiny shells sewn into armor and
some so fine they could pass through a ring. Mirane could not reconcile a
warehouse so far from places with any wealth.
“I import from across the ocean.” Sagnun added this as Mirane was
fingering the seams of a man‟s shirt. The stitches were nearly invisible and the
cloth was woven with more than one color thread, silver and white. She looked
through his collection interested in the exotic, particularly of the far north.
Instead she found her past.
“And west.” She said looking at open red skirts. Her tone was
unforgiving. Gyan came to her side to find out what she had found to be so
offensive. Mirane offered him no clue, she spun on her heal and looked straight
at Sagnun. “How did you get this?”
“What?” Sagnun‟s face was flushed and innocence was not even his to
pretend.
“You know.”
“I purchased it from a traveler.” Sagnun was lying but he was afraid for
his life.
“Gyan, this man gives you fair prices?”
“Very good.” Gyan nodded to Sagnun and the man laughed.
“It cannot be enough.”
“Why not?”
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“Is my brother the best?” Mirane asked Sagnun from a short hand span
from his face.
“Oh yes.”
“These garments make you extraordinarily wealthy.” Mirane touched the
exotic white tear drop pearls at his collar. Sagnun squirmed. “So wealthy that
you do not care that someone is hurt and abused in that skirt.”
“I do not hurt anyone.” Sagnun for half a moment believed he could
strike back at this woman.
“I do not believe that you do not know what I mean and I do not believe
that you are treating Gyan as fairly as you should.” Mirane noticed that several
guards were closing in on them. “I think that you are every bit as hurtful as the
ones who use those slyuisk dryeme. I believe that you take from everyone you
meet and I guess not even your guards receive the compensation you believe
your life to be worth. Now here is what I will tell you.”
“Tell me.” Sagnun reared up. He was not happy about being treated this
way but he knew that Gyan was an extensive enough part of his business that he
could not afford for a moment to entertain thoughts of angering him. He settled
himself down. “What will you tell me?”
“I expect much from you.”
“What do you want?”
“You figure that out.” Mirane did not know what she wanted from him,
she wanted to scare him, she wanted to hurt hime, but from him, she wanted
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nothing. So instead she bore down on him with dark eyes. “I will leave you to
make your negotiations and visit a friend of mine and when I return those skirts
will be wrapped up for me.” She turned to a guard. “You will do this and I will
hold you to it.”
“They did not come cheap…”Sagnun made his mistake.
“They were worth my life,” She drew her sword and touched it to a
vulnerable point at his throat. “Do not make them worth yours.” With that she
returned her blade to her scabbard and turned to the door. “Gyan if you are
displeased with this man‟s compensation for your excellent work we will
renegotiate. I imagine a twenty percent increase, minimum. Do you need my
assistance in arranging that?” As Mirane‟s sword was still at his throat the man
burst out, “Ten percent, of course.”
“Ten percent, is acceptable?” Mirane turned to Gyan.
“Quite.” Gyan appreciated the higher terms but he worried Sagnun
would cut him off entirely. He worried his work did not merit the raise. I wish I
had been there.
Once outside Mirane shook off all her tension and anger. She was too
close to the border now and too close to where her first life ended. There was
something in the land that smelled of blood. She seemed to feel each scar across
her body as they were originally inflicted. How could she have gone so long
without knowing that she hurt so badly? She took a deep breath and tried to
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force the pain away from her. She was thankful that so few knew what had
happened to her. Each mind that knew struck her with mortification. She was
especially grateful that I did not know her secrets.
This part of the city was mostly two and three story wood buildings. A
shop would occupy the street level and the shop owners would reside in or rent
out the other floors. Second stories overhung the sidewalk allowing the
pedestrian to keep his or her head dry, of course, that was little comfort to the
shopper covered in mud from the dirt streets. As she walked through the streets
she pushed her thoughts down inside her. She hid them in places of her mind
that were strong and would not release her secrets to her again. She
concentrated on the businesses she passed: cobbler, glazer, lender, messenger,
metal smith. She intended to visit Dazja but when she saw the messenger office
she realized there was still hope to save this trip.
She stepped into the same office and found the clerk. On his head was a
small hat and he sat squeezed into a chair that was too small for him. “Do you
send couriers?”
“Yes, but they‟re expensive.” He was trying to dismiss her.
“I have money,” she put more than enough coin on the counter and got
his attention. “I want a courier sent to Scolar, he is to find a man from the far
north and tell him to come to Kaira. The boy must be able to read him the
message and direct him to my village. “
“And this man will be in Scolar?”
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“Hopefully not. If he‟s not then the boy can return.”
“We are a relay, we do not just send on boy to find him, you know.”
“I do not care how you do it, I want this man to get this message.” Mirane
wrote out a few short sentences. If you have stubbornly stayed in Scolar there is little
I can do but to invite you to Kaira. When you have arrived please send a messenger to
me. I shall leave instructions with this courier service.
“Yes ma‟am.” The clerk took her money and her instructions and she had
no idea whether her missive was sent.
By the time she reached Dazja‟s gate she was clear headed and ready to
meet the happy and innocent people she worried most about. The guard led her
into the house and made small talk with her. “It is good to see you again,”
Mirane did not remember that he was the same guard but she nodded her head.
“It is good to return, I trust that Dazja is safe here.”
“Yes, indeed. I have held this post for five years. I apprehended four
attempted thieves my first year, there have been no other attempts made since.”
“Excellent.” Mirane said that as far as she was concerned having no need
to defend a place was its best defense.
“Thank you, I appreciate that, coming from you.”
“And why is that?”
“I know who you are, I even read your book, and it took me a month.” He
was shy and looked away.
“My book?”
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“Yes, about the code of the mercenary, I understand that.” He acted very
young but he was her senior by a decade. She did not have the heart to tell him
she had never written a book. She was saved when Dazja ran to her and
embraced her with kisses.
“I came to check on you.” Mirane teased and ruffled the woman‟s hair
like a child. Dazja responded to the affection and grabbed her hand to lead her
to her sitting room.
“How is your family?” Dazja asked holding Mirane‟s hand as it they were
just good friends.
“They are just how I remember them.” Mirane answered trying to lean
back in the chair.
“Eek.” Mirane had never heard anyone make that noise in her throat but
it quite accurately reflected how she felt about her return.
“Yes.” Mirane nodded.
“Did you get your invitation?”
“No, not yet.” Dazja produced a written invitation from a box. It did not
have her name on it. “Take this, just in case the messenger has lost it.”
“Thank you.”
The two women chatted the afternoon away and Mirane felt a tickle at the
back of her throat that she did not recognize at first and then suddenly realized it
was laughter. Not the same as when she laughed with me, but different. It was
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the laughter she found as a child, late into the night with Sabrine. By the time
she left she felt her scars cool and blend back into her body.
“You are coming?”
“Yes.” Mirane embraced the woman who seemed so innocent she was
childlike compared to Mirane, there was less than a decade between them in age.
“I‟m looking forward to it.”
“It will be good to have a friend among the guests.” Dazja whispered into
her cheek. Dazja was taller than Mirane had originally thought; they were nearly
the same height.
“Then I shall assure you I will be there on time and dressed.”
Dazja brightened up and smiled widely. “I am very glad.”
“Thank you for receiving me today,” Mirane smiled. There was
something appealing about Dazja. She was childlike and innocent. She was
open and unafraid. Every instinct Mirane had was split between protecting her
and shielding her from the outside world and educating her to protect herself.
“Good bye.” Dazja smiled and embraced her again.
“Good bye.” Mirane said and then walked out of the house into the dark
winter evening. She found her way back to the buyer‟s warehouse and entered
as the men were looking over some fabric. She looked Gyan straight in the eye.
“I am satisfied.” Gyan responded and put a bolt of cloth on the carriage.
“Excellent.”
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Mirane stood at attention for the remaining portion of their meeting. She
did not speak until they were outside and Gyan had told Sagnun that they
would depart in the morning. “I think that we can leave tonight.”
“In the dark.”
“That man has a small army, the less he knows about where we are the
better we are.”
“He is not our enemy.”
“Is he your friend?”
“No, he‟s just a buyer.”
“He buys from the enemy and he has everything to protect.”
“I have to deal with him, you will not always be here.”
“I know. Let‟s get home now and we can figure out what to do then.”
They traveled on the frozen winter road late until the night and when they
had reached the edge of the village and had come safely Gyan spoke for the first
time.
“I made four times as much as I should have.” He said this with a barely
contained excitement. “I owe you.”
“I hope I did not ruin your business.” Mirane smirked
“You are a godsend. I would put you on my payroll if I thought you
would let me, sister, I would like the opportunity to thank you as you deserve.”
“I do not need payment from you, brother.” She teased him and he
smiled. It is nice to have you around, he thought.
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“Would you tell me if there is anything you would like?”
“I will.” Mirane thought for a moment, she was reluctant to ask for such a
large favor.
Secrets and Illusions 202
Prevention
Mirane woke the next morning more tired than she had anticipated.
Regardless, she burst open her eyes and rigorously stretched out her muscles,
they were tense and knotted. She stood and dressed in the cold room. On the
table beside her were three envelopes, the invitation to Dazja‟s wedding she had
received the previous afternoon, a formal invitation delivered by messenger and
a note from Kyltan to meet him at the common house that evening. Mirane read
each and folded them back into their envelopes. Despite being dressed, Mirane
was still cold in the room and pulled a long crocheted shawl around her
shoulders. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She looked matronly.
She shuddered and was almost grateful that her life had not taken this path.
Regardless, she wrapped the shawl tightly around her arms and went to
the kitchen to join the family. Her mother sat at the table a scowl on her face.
“Good morning,” Sarah said coldly looking at Mirane very intently.
“Good morning,” Mirane shivered back and went to the stove to see if
anything was warm. There was nothing except water but the warmth was
enough of a reason to stay. She leaned up against the hard clay wall of the oven
and watched her mother. “It‟s so cold this morning,” she offered by some means
of reaching out.
“We had a messenger come this morning.”
“Yes, I saw it, Thank you.”
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“Are you in the habit of receiving missives by messenger?” Her mother‟s
voice cracked.
“No,” Mirane looked at her closely trying to read what was coming.
“You do not use messengers to communicate with people you know and
care for?” Sarah asked without letting Mirane out of her gaze.
“Mother,” Mirane took a step away from the warm stove.
“It just seems that you are so comfortable with it, you could have…” Her
mother put her face in her hands and Mirane watched her shoulders shudder.
Mirane said nothing. She could have. At the time she even wanted, to
especially in the beginning.
“You receive wedding invitations here and you have only been here a few
weeks. Who would invite you to a wedding that you have only met for a few
weeks.”
“I did not know her before I came here. I never came so close as Solari.”
Mirane felt her defense mechanisms forcefully dropping into place. “I brought
her here to marry, she invited me for that.”
“I could not believe the sight of your name on the envelope,” her mother‟s
words were not clear. Sarah had so much grief in her for her lost child. She had
so much anger and sorrow she could neither resolve them nor accept them.
Mirane could do nothing to help her mother. Perhaps inside her, Mirane wanted
to go to her, wanted to wrap her arms around her and absorb the shuddering
tears into her own body but she was not capable of doing so. All she could do
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was sit by her side and stare at her hands. She saw traces of the angry scars
around her wrists and she pulled her sleeves down over them. Sarah cried
herself out within a few moments and spoke again. “Who is the bride?”
“Dazja, I do not know her fiancé.” Sarah glanced at her daughter in
frustration and Mirane tried not to be hurt by her bright red eyes and wet cheeks.
“I‟ll get the invitation.”
Mirane returned within a moment, forgoing the temptation to close her
door and stay there until spring, with the invitation in her hand. She passed it to
her mother who looked at it with interest and then incredulity.
“You know this woman?”
“As I said, I escorted her to Kaira.”
“Did you know this is one of the most important weddings of the year?”
“No, I do not see why.”
“Of course you do not,” Sarah said absently and Mirane was taken
slightly aback. However, Sarah had tossed aside her grief for the more familiar
territory of mothering and dictating. “You have nothing to wear.”
“I‟ll wear this.”
“No, Gyan will make you something.”
“He has no time.”
“He will not mind.”
“There is no need.”
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“There is time.” Sarah looked at her with no doubt in her mind and spoke
from the very back of her throat. Sarah went to the door and pulled her long
berry-dyed woolen cloak over her shoulders. She passed Mirane Xylvan‟s cloak
and beckoned her to follow. Mirane did and they went directly to Gyan‟s.
Outside the air was crisp and clean smelling; the cold burned the back of
her nostrils like snow. They came to Gyan‟s workshop door and wordlessly and
without preamble, Sarah handed Gyan the invitation.
“For you?” he asked Mirane, he was neither impressed nor doubtful.
“Yes, I traveled with her recently.”
“Would you allow yourself to wear one of my dresses to the wedding?”
Gyan asked while he looked over her body for inspiration. Then he became self-
conscious of looking and looked back at his mother-in-law.
“Yes, of course.” Mirane knew that Gyan had established a reputation far
and wide and she knew the benefits of beauty. Within a few moments all was
decided and Mirane agreed to return another day for measurements and fittings,
things she did not understand.
“That was delicious.” Mirane said cleaning the corners of her mouth with
a clean cloth. Already her mother was busily clearing the table; Mirane had
tried to help at other meals and had proven to be offensively bad at it. She did
not know where dishes went or what could be stored and used for another meal.
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She had not tried again. Instead she pushed herself away from the table. “If you
will excuse me.”
“Where are you going?” her father asked casually.
“I need to go to the common house.” She replied.
“Alone!” Her mother exclaimed.
“No. I am meeting him there.”
“Larken can come and walk you there.”
“Not Larken, I‟m meeting…”
“You‟re not going.” Her mother interrupted.
“I need to meet…”
“It does not matter,” The woman put down the stack of plates and came
back into the room. She saw her daughter, she had forgotten the warrior. “Go.”
She said quietly. Mirane looked to her father for some confidence that her
mother was all right.
“Go ahead,” he said quietly. Mirane sighed and gathered her cape. She
stepped outside. It had begun to snow earlier and it was already pretty deep.
She lifted her face to the night sky; there was no sign of it abating. She pulled the
cape tighter around her. With regret she thought of me. She prayed that I was
somewhere warm and safe. She wished that I were here with her. I had a gift for
diplomacy for smoothing trouble out long after it should have erupted into
battle. That was how she felt here now. She was on the eve of battle; each word
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she spoke could have disastrous consequences, which she would have to deal
with.
The common house was on the other side of the village. By the time she
reached it she was already quite chilled. In her own clothes she would have
layers of protection from the cold. For that matter she would not be walking
across a village for it she would be ensconced in the room above it. If it were not
for the cape, my cape, she would have frozen half way here.
She chased her scattered thoughts away and tried to prepare herself for
this opportunity. She spotted Lord Kyltan at a table, he was sitting with some
other men and she hoped that she was not going to have to make a presentation
to the village council. Council, she laughed to herself. Forget it. She approached
Kyltan with a wide friendly smile that she showed warmly to the other men.
Kyltan stood taking his drink with him. “Excuse me, gentleman.” He turned to
her; “I have another table for us.”
Mirane followed him. “How are you?” He asked smiling. He must have
been here for a little while; he had no sign of snow on him.
“I‟m well; I have been spending a lot of time with my family.” Mirane was
sugar coating it, she knew.
“I imagine that is a little overwhelming.”
Mirane smiled and let out a little laugh. She relaxed and he smiled. “Yes,
I suppose it is.”
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“You wanted to speak with me?” Kyltan changed the topic and Mirane
respected a man who did not wish to linger on small talk, platitudes and
meaningless chatter.
“Yes. You know that part of what Xylvan and I do is travel the border.”
“Yes.” Kyltan nodded.
“We go from village to village setting up escape and survival plans.”
“Yes, I have heard,” he replied.
“I wanted to talk to you about doing the same things here. Walking the
village to see where people can hide, telling their children where to hide. That
sort of thing.” Kyltan took a sip of his drink.
“People here are very reluctant. I‟ve tried, they do not want to think it can
happen again,” Kyltan said.
“It can.” Mirage urged
“I know, but they do not talk of it, they do not want to remember.”
“This will help them survive.” Mirane pushed
“They survive. They, the village, will always survive.”
“No, These people, these hunters who took me, they destroy us. They are
scavengers and attackers. They do not value us, only what we have.”
“I would love to do this. But…”
“But what?”
“Mirane.” Kyltan raised his voice to matcher hers.
“Fine, we go across the village, you and I, we can start.”
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“Tonight?”
“We have to start somewhere, such as: Where could children hide?”
“Most of the children do not remember this ever happening.”
“How can that be?” Mirane asked.
“They do not. They‟re not afraid.”
“They need to be afraid, terrified.” She implored, if she could not convince
him she would not stand a chance against the apathetic village.
“Mirane, we will work on this.” Kyltan knew she was right, he knew that
they had the best opportunity they ever would and they needed to take
advantage. He could see that she was upset despite the coolness in her face. “In
the meantime, I brought you a gift.” Kyltan took a small package out from
beneath the table and placed it in front of her.
“What is it?” Kyltan watched her long lashed eyes look at the package and
then to him.
“Open it.”
Mirane hesitantly uncovered it and found a book bound in good leather.
She picked it up and leafed through it from the back page. When she came to the
front she paused as she saw her name, hers and mine, she read aloud, “Articles
concerning the coming and goings of Mirane the fighter and Xylvan the
illusionist along the Western border.”
“I thought you might be interested.”
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“Yes,” Mirane smiled and laughed. Then, incredulously asked, “Are they
true?”
“I do not know.” He shook his head and leaned back in his chair.
“I mean are they terribly exaggerated?”
“They are supposed to be fairly accurate.” Kyltan shrugged. The only
person who could know for certain was the woman sitting in front of him.
“Who is collecting the information?”
“Court. They‟ve been following after you, interviewing the folks you‟ve
worked for.”
“That is really something?” Mirane looked at the book and shook her head
in displeasure. “They‟re following us and not helping the people. Where are
their priorities?”
“They seem to be mostly interested in your Xylvan.”
“Why?”
“It is not in that book, but I‟ve heard rumor that he is very important. His
mother is a Queen. You do not meet a Queen‟s son everyday.”
“I suppose,” she answered, for in fact, she did meet a Queen‟s son
everyday and good or bad it was not the most impressive thing she had
accomplished.
“She has sent word that he is to come to no harm.”
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“Really. I had not heard. Sent word to who?” Of course, she was lying to
him; she had often ridiculed me for it. There was something unmercenary about
having your mother put out a legal mandate to not hurt her little boy.
“King Lioneff.” Kyltan leaned in as he said the name.
“So they are following us.”
“Not always following.”
“What do you mean?” Mirane‟s face went very stern and her voice cold.
“I do not know.” Kyltan was honest. “No one knew exactly how he met
up with you and became involved with this business of yours. Years ago, he was
touring the wealthy houses outside the capital and suddenly he disappears.
Months later, a kid appears at a school for the first time in years with stories
about the two of you and a message appears from Queen Tearisia.”
Mirane was quiet, how much political mechanations went on so far above
her head she did not know enough to look up to see it. She wondered if I knew.
She was angry that her king was fighting a war on in the east and sending
guards to watch me but that it was up to her to protect the western border. It
was not secret amongst us that if she ever were to have the privilege of meeting
the King that neither of them would live to tell the tale. “Why is Xylvan‟s life
worth more than the western border villages?” She posed the question
hypothetically.
“Just read the book.”
“Are you going to fill your colleagues in with what I tell you?”
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“Maybe, maybe it‟s a chance to get some of the King‟s support out here.”
“It is unlikely.” Mirane responded. “King Lionoff would no more send his
money out to the western border than his own child or even one soldier. King
Lionoff‟s kingdom ends about twenty marks east of here.”
“Funny, we still get taxed like it is his own kingdom.”
“Do not think I have not had this discussion up and down the western
border. I have. Many believe, as I do, that the only way to get Gryth soldiers out
here would be stop paying the taxes, but that is not something any one person
can do or even one village.”
“The entire western region would have to do it.”
“We would have to secede.”
“Perhaps,” Mirane shrugged. “We would have to mobilize an army and
fight a two front war.”
“Do you think that is possible?”
“No.” Mirane answered flatly.
“So we cannot change the king‟s mind, we cannot band together with
other villages. What other choices do we have?”
“We are just the buffer.”
“So we have to stop being the buffer?” Kyltan posed.
“That is it.” Mirane answered.
“How does that happen?”
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“Hopefully we recognize the opportunity when it arises, because I do not
know.” Mirane took a long drink. “Thanks.” She stood and left.
Secrets and Illusions 214
Fitting
Gyan was desperately trying not to think of Mirane as anything other than
a dressing model, as she stood on his chair and measured her for a gown. He
had promised to make it for her in exchange for her “bargaining” technique that
now guaranteed him a short respite from his own projects. However, he had
forgotten that she would be standing in front on him, his face so close to her
body, so close to her.
Mirane stood and endured her brother-in-laws leering glances. He had
neither been frightened nor intimidated by her display at Sagnun‟s warehouse
and since they had returned he had taken every opportunity to be with her. She
had known him since she was a child and she had been at the wedding that
joined Sabrine and him together. He was always so meek and pliable. Watching
Mirane had given him an assertiveness that as soon as his crush wore off would
be helpful to him. Until then she would endure his clumsy measurements and
his long looks.
As she stood there and he sweated, it suddenly occurred to her that he
could be of use to her. “Gyan?”
“Yes,” he looked at her and answered quickly.
“Do you believe in dissolving marriages?” Mirane did not elaborate she
just kept his eyes locked to hers and let him believe what he wanted.
Secrets and Illusions 215
“Mirane?” he was smart enough to wait before answering. “I believe that
if a marriage is not a true marriage than it should be dissolved.”
“So do I.” She paused and let him continue to sweat. “What are reasons
that a marriage is not true?”
“If a woman or a man does not feel a partnership with their husband or
wife.”
“What if they were too young?”
“We are always too young.”
“And to marry someone else.”
Gyan began to shake. “I love Sabrine.” He blurted this out and Mirane
had all she could do to prevent laughing out loud. Mirane stepped down from
the chair and looked at him.
“I know you do,” she said with far more seriousness than she thought she
was capable.
“What do you want to know?”
“I need your help.”
Gyan was not one to turn down a beautiful woman in distress. His inner
picture of himself always involved some sort of prince in shining armor. He now
felt honor bound to help her do anything she asked and all he could do was hope
that what she asked was not too far beyond him.
“I have been away for many years.”
“You have,”
Secrets and Illusions 216
“I have loved men, other men, than my husband.”
“You have?” Gyan was trying not to think of the wonderful life of
freedom she had. She could love other men and then move on and be a hero to
someone else. How he envied her.
“I have” she smirked, “but now I am love with one man.”
“You wish to marry him.” Gyan did not let this interrupt his fantasy of
freedom. He tried to think of it as romantic.
“I would. And I would like to dissolve my marriage with Larken.”
“I can see that.” Gyan and Sabrine had wondered about that. She still
stayed with her parents and she did not allow Larken to show her any affection.
All could see how he looked at her. He was possessive but he was not a partner.
They were strangers and they would never be more. “We need to do it in a way
that Larken can save his dignity in the village.”
“Yes.” Mirane understood that this was one of the most important details.
If he felt disgraced he would make it impossible to dissolve. To be honest, if it
did not go smoothly she thought it unlikely that she would stay and fight for it.
Xylvan would still love her despite her legal marriage and in Sian she was
probably free to marry him if it came to that. In her mind this was for Larken‟s
sake, despite, how horrible he has been, and for her family. She would not
disgrace them. “Is there anyone else who might be interested in wedding him?”
“No.” Gyan answered. “In the beginning there were young women who
thought of it and inquired but he refused them. They have all since married.”
Secrets and Illusions 217
“Maybe someone younger, then, or a widow.”
“Perhaps.”
“Larken is very affluent here.”
“Yes.”
“There might be a mother or two who would be interested in a marriage
to our family.” Gyan was quiet for a moment. “If they knew that Larken was
looking for a wife.”
“The whole village knows I‟ve returned.” Mirane felt that this would be a
deterrent to any marriage minded mothers. No mother would want to marry her
daughter to the husband of a sword-bearing fighter.
“But everyone, also, knows that you sleep at your mother‟s.”
Mirane had forgotten what a wonderful tool a particularly small town
could be. “I would not have to put out the first paper of dissolvement, quite
yet.” Mirane had already composed the document, which stated her reasons for
wishing the dissolvement and her intention to live apart from him. One copy
would be sent to the man who married them or his successor and one to Larken.
The second paper of dissolvement was publicly posted and the third was read at
the dissolvement ceremony. If she could get her intentions into the grapevine it
is possible that Larken would have potential suitors before he received the
inevitable news. It has been wrong to keep quiet about it.
“Confide in Theabe.” He said this as if it would be seem natural.
“I‟ve never done so, before.”
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“She‟ll tell her friend and her friend will guarantee it is discussed in the
group.”
“Then I shall try.”
“Good.” Gyan lifted up two bolts of fabric and showed them to her. One
was a shiny black silk with stitched designs on it while the other was thick and of
a midnight blue that seemed vivid in the light. He chose the second and smiled.
“Great.”
“Am I done?”
“Yes, speak to Theabe, I‟ll try to put the thought into some mothers.”
Gyan smiled. He had often been the target of this group of gossips. If even he
thought of going against a town vote they would rein him in. He had bowed to
them too often and now he could release Mirane and her strategic mind into their
ranks and use them for some good.
Gyan worked on the gown long after she left, exacting each stitch with
perfect precision. “Are you coming in the house at all today?” Sabrine surprised
him and he turned with a guilty face.
“Oh yes, I just wanted to get this done.”
“It‟s gorgeous, one of your best I think.” Sabrine said touching the fabric.
“You always think so.”
“You think that I have no discrimination.”
“I think you are supportive.”
“And forgiving?”
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“Yes.” Gyan looked up from the fabric. “Of course, you are.” His face
softened.
“My sister is very beautiful and strong, brave, adventurous,”
“Yes, you are all of these things too.”
“She is so different now.”
“So are we.” Gyan reached out for his wife‟s hands.
“She thinks no one remembers what happened or that we just moved
through it unaffected.”
“She might.” Gyan responded. “She was not here to see us after it all.”
“Our parent‟s grief,” she whispered.
“Our grief, our child, too.” Sabrine fell into her husband‟s arms it had
been so long since she had allowed herself to think of herself that night. She had
been so close to delivering her third child and then to have it born that night.
Born dead on the road, her mother nearly dead beside her. “My love.” Gyan
rocked gently with her tightly to his chest. Together they walked into the house
and gathered up their boys and held them.
Mirane returned to her home and sat with her mother for a short while.
She had not had an opportunity to tell her about the wedding after she got the
invitation and she thought her mother would be pleased with this sign of
domestication. Afterwards she went upstairs to read some of the books she had
borrowed.
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After she had read the biography23 of herself she returned it to Kyltan
with the list of things that were accurate. She had never in her whole life ever
ridden down a man on a giant gray beast I created out of magic. She had never
seen me use any true magic; everything I did was untouchable. She tried to
remember if one of my illusions had been of such a creature. She did not always
see them as her opponent did. Even if that were true she certainly never stood
between a mudslide and a village and saved it. That would not even have been
an illusion I would have used. They had no business in manipulating the
villages.
Some of the essays read like dreams; the most incredulous of all was one
where they have been called in to the town to slay a giant worm. It began as a
serpent beneath someone‟s house but grew large by eating animals and soon
children and the elderly. They could not stop its voracious appetite and the
parents of the children left town in grief. The worm burned down their homes.
The essayist here took everything the townspeople said at face value. She
remembered that town24. They were there for the winter and while they were
there were four house fires. All of the people were away from them at the time
but more importantly they had settled there only that very year from the Far
West. They did not speak the language and they practiced a different faith.
There were other families and they chose to be vocal about it. Mirane was
23
The biography referenced here was a contemporary one written for children Articles concerning the coming and
goings of Mirane the fighter and Xylvan the illusionist along the Eastern border”
24
See Biography part the second
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present the cold day that the westerners and the townspeople went head to head.
She did not do anything to interfere; she and I had agreed that neither party was
ready for a war in the town and that they were largely venting their suspicions.
But it was at this moment that one of the children screamed. She had been
peeking into a hole in one of the town‟s square house and saw the worm. It took
Mirane and several townspeople, including the westerners, to find the creature
and then to pull it out of the crawl space. It was a truly large animal and it had
fully reticulated around a support beam. They all wanted to kill it but I forbid
them to do so. I had seen these before and saw that it was slow and could not
defend itself. At what looked like a random choice to them, I approached a
young man and charged him with the duty of building a house for it and taking
it to the Sian forest flats. Of course, he was the arsonist. Hopefully, no one else
would be inclined to start more fires. There was much conflict in that village,
more than just that poor Sian worm. Even to this day, I wonder how it got so far
south, or more precisely why someone would have brought it so far south.
She also borrowed the journal of a man who had alleged to travel to Sian.
She knew enough about its people to know when the man was completely
wrong. However, she found the descriptions to be intriguing. The man was
apparently had seen a demonstration of battle illusionists and was
simultaneously repelled and enthralled by the practice. Her countrymen were
constantly engaged in warfare whether it be the formal battles on the east or
raiders on the west, few in her country reached adulthood without blood on their
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hands. The Sian system was representative. Very few illusionists ever died,
some became involved in the process to the point that madness set upon them
and it was impossible to extricate their minds, but there was no innocent
bloodshed. Mirane read through the narrative in search of any mention of me as
the book had been written so long ago and concerned a different Queensrealm.
The most the book could offer her was comfort and a reminder of me, so
she went and joined her family in the front room. Tonight they were having all
the children and grandchildren over for a community meal. Already Sabrine and
her boys had arrived and Gyan and Larken were sitting together in the far
corner. As Mirane came in Theabe and her girls came rushing through the front
door. Gyan nodded to Mirane in what she thought must be his attempt at
mystery. She smiled and made sure to greet Theabe she would speak to her later
in a more casual way.
Her opportunity came just after dinner when Theabe‟s daughter was
crying over a fight with Samyuel‟s oldest. They had been caught pulling each
other‟s hair and Theabe carried her away from the scene and close to where
Mirane was sitting with a warm drink.
“Do you not miss this?” Theabe said this with all sarcasm and Mirane
recognized this as her chance.
“You have such beautiful daughters, Theabe, do not wish them away.”
“I do not.” Theabe stroked the girl‟s hair and Mirane thought that she may
not reengage conversation.
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“So fortunate to have such a loving husband.” Mirane knew that Theabe‟s
husband was well considered to be a fine catch and very devoted.
“Your husband is loving.” Theabe teased her because it was now common
knowledge that Mirane wanted nothing to do with him. Theabe had not taken
Mirane‟s reunion quite as smoothly as the others had. Mirane was always
considered to be the favorite child and Theabe often felt that she had to compete
with her older sister. After Mirane had been gone long enough her parents
began to give more credit to what she contributed to the house even if Mirane‟s
name was raised up higher in her absence.
“But Larken and I never had a marriage like yours.” Mirane made eye
contact with Theabe‟s husband, Elhn, and smiled. He smiled and nodded back
and Theabe mistook it for her. “He is so wonderful and so deserves you.”
Theabe smiled. The thought that Mirane might envy her made her
exceptionally happy and even generous toward her poor sister.
“I do not think that Larken should be saddled with a wife like me.”
Mirane continued with a great deal of false modesty.
“No, perhaps you are right.” Theabe had always been fond of him, so
attractive and so grieved.
“But what can I do?” Mirane did her best to make it sound like a sincere
question.
“I do not know.” Theabe answered and thought of Larken with pity. You
could dissolve the marriage and never return, she thought. And then she
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thought that Mirane might then leave and she could return to family as adored.
Larken needed to believe that Mirane was an inappropriate wife. As a widower
he could protect her but now that she was here and all could see how she turned
out he could not save her name. With this, Theabe stood and resolved to get
Larken to marry another. “I‟ll see what I can do.”
“You do not have to do anything, Theabe.” Mirane implored, “I would not
want to inconvenience you.”
“Not at all.” Theabe left Mirane to her drink. Gyan looked up and saw
that wide cat smile across her teeth and knew what Mirane had set it into
motion. He thought of several young women still looking to marry and thought
he might visit with their fashion conscious mothers.
By the following night the village believed that she was ready to set the
dissolvement into action. She was trying on the gown that Gyan had finished for
her and hiding in her room from the waves of malicious gossip. She certainly
wanted to stay completely away from these conversations so that they appear
more natural. She sat in front of the mirror that she and Sabrine had played with
as children and admired the dress with its beaded starbursts and yards of blue.
The low squared off collar had a shimmering silver veil to wrap around her neck
and to tuck away in her bosom to hide the network of scars across her chest and
shoulders. She was pleased with it and the affect as she let loose the long waves
of chestnut hair.
Secrets and Illusions 225
As she looked at her reflection and mused about how this came about she
had the strangest feeling that I was close by, she looked around the room and it
was empty. It must be nothing she thought and continued to examine the glass.
Soon Larken‟s figure appeared in the top left-hand corner of the mirror and she
turned. He rushed to her and kissed her on the mouth and touched her.
“You look very beautiful.”
“Thank you, Gyan is very talented.”
“I want you to sleep at my home.” This was sudden, but she was
prepared.
“Why. We already agreed that I would stay here.” She said this firmly.
“We did not agree.” He was equally firm.
“Why the change.”
“I hear that you are filing dissolvement papers.”
“I will, but I have not, yet.” Mirane replied.
“Return with me, they‟ll stop speaking if they see you there.”
“I cannot.”
“Yes you can, you could be with me before.”
“That was a lifetime ago.” Mirane answered
“My lifetime. A lifetime of waiting.” Larken fumed with anger.
“Larken, please consider taking a new wife.”
“No.”
“I have taken other men.”
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“As if I did not know that.” He sneered.
“I have taken them of my own choice and I have given my heart to one.”
“It was not yours to give.” He replied coldly.
“It was.”
“This is your last chance to live as my wife. Come to my house now.”
“No,” she said just as strongly, her voice reflected the firmness of her
position and even her desperate husband was unable to change that. She sent a
prayer to God and hoped that I would be in Scolar when the messenger reached
it. Such guilt and regret that she wondered how one can slaughter a city and feel
no remorse but cry for the possible pain of one man‟s heart. It was absurd. She
looked Larken in the eye. “Leave now.”
Larken turned and left but his entire body was taut and tense.
Mirane soon went to bed feeling more alone than she had in years.
Secrets and Illusions 227
Union
Mirane arrived at Dazja‟s wedding on one of Gyan‟s tall horses that she
had told him were dangerously tempting to raiders. However, she had her
sword by her side and felt that she would be safe. She was met at the gate by
two guards.
“Lady, it is good to see you once again,” he took the bridle and passed it
to the young horse keep.
“May I take your cape?” requested the second.
“Please,” He removed the velvet cape.
“Thank you.” Then he noticed the blade that remained slung on her hip.
“Our hosts have requested that each guest go without her blade.” He attempted
to be diplomatic but he was clearly discomforted by the sword.
“Do you know who this is?” her guard friend said.
“There are many wealthy and powerful guests here tonight, I would wish
to comply with our hosts instructions.”
“Lady, would you relinquish your weapon to my safekeeping.” Mirane
looked from one to the other and back again.
“And each guest has been disarmed?”
“Yes.” He replied and the other looked at him and agreed.
“And where shall it be kept?”
Secrets and Illusions 228
“I shall keep it on my person it all times. It will be available to you,
immediately, if we should have any problems. Were a problem to arise I would
obey your every command.”
“That, I‟m sure will not be necessary.” Mirane looked them over again and
handed her sword to her admirer.
“May I escort you to the temple?”
“As I am unarmed, I shall need all the escorting I can get.” She smiled and
looked at him from beneath her eyelashes.
“Thank you, Lady.”
“Thank you.”
He escorted her through the temple25 and seated her in the second row of
benches. The room was not large but had a high ceiling with low beams. Each
beam was wrapped with green boughs and red winterberries. Candles hung
from them and threatened to ignite the evergreens but never did.
The ceremony began with the groom‟s family standing in a row at the
front and the bride‟s family clustered around her walking from the back of the
temple. Dazja‟s family would greet his family and then the fathers and mothers
and anyone else would find their own seats and leave Dazja and Justinian26 to
their vows. They knelt before one another and whispered their secrets to one
25
This temple still stands.
26
See Rogether’s Kaira Formal Register pages XVI-XIX.
Secrets and Illusions 229
another and then the cleric came to them and touched their heads. They agreed
to stay bound and to love one another and the cleric announced that they were
one creation. Everyone cheered boisterously. Mirane yelled just as loudly.
From that point, servants laid out dinner and the doors of the temple were
thrown open to the winter night. A large fire burned in several fire cradles in the
courtyard and musicians stood around them and played their instruments for
everyone to dance. A few snowflakes fell on them and Dazja caught one on her
tongue. All laughed. There were just a few flakes and the fire kept everyone
warm. Several men asked her to dance with them and she accepted a few. She
rarely danced; she almost forgot that she knew how. Soon with a little tripping
her feet remembered the steps and she had a wonderful time, she thought that
her cheeks might even be red. The country-dances she had learned at her
parent‟s hearth came to her and she fell into place with the other guests. She
bowed at the appropriate times and she was in step with the music. When the
first round of dances broke, Mirane left the group and went to the side of the
warm fire. “Mirane,” shouted Dazja waving her arm for her attention.
Mirane walked through the crowd to meet her and gave her a quick
embrace. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you, I‟m so excited.”
“You must be. “Mirane squeezed Dazja again and both women smiled.
“I almost did not recognize you, look at you.”
“This.” Mirane spun in front of Dazja to show off Gyan‟s handiwork.
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“It‟s lovely, it is beautiful.” Dazja was, of course, the more elaborately
dressed but for her it was such a treat to see this guardswoman in yards of skirts.
“And you have hair!” she teased and put her fingers in the long wavy locks. “It is
so gorgeous.”
“Thank you.” Mirane smiled and laughed. She did not quite realize the
moment when her beauty was taken for granted to when it became a surprise.
Someone should have said something, she thought. “But this is your night, your
parents seem so very happy.”
“Do you mean relieved?”
“No, I mean, happy.”
“I‟m so glad you came, it is good to have a friend here.” Mirane sensed a
depth and sincerity in the young woman and embraced her again. “Will you see
me again?”
“I will.” Mirane promised but then several other people were trying to
get the bride‟s attention so Mirane congratulated her again and retreated into the
crowd.
As the evening progressed, several gentlemen asked her name.
“Mirane Damaskoi,” she answered.
“Intriguing,” they replied, and Mirane knew they did not have an idea
who she was. They would know later, they would read it in one of their journals
and wonder how it was they had met her, but at the moment they just wanted to
hold her hand and kiss her cheek. They stroked her back and asked her to dance.
Secrets and Illusions 231
She accepted and answered their small questions. If they asked who made her
dress she told them and if they asked if she would come away with them she
smiled and declined. She partook in some of the most delicious food her lips
had ever tasted and the lightest spirits to ever go right to her head. Eventually, it
was time to go. She smiled her way to the gate and was met by the servant with
her cape and the guard with her mount and sword.
“I hope that we will be seeing you again, Lady Mirane.”
“I do believe that you will.”
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First and Second Sight
I found Kaira on the morning after a snowfall dusted over its streets and
after too many serpentine roads. When the main street emerged from the forest I
swore I had never seen a place more mythic and enchanting. From here I knew I
was just days away from finding her and that filled me with a hope I was fast
losing. The immediacy of finding her had subsided now, and more rational
thought had prevailed. I could not simply approach her until I knew what was
happening. These thoughts had come at a high price and had harassed me the
whole time here. I could speculate on any number of motives she might have
had for coming here, but the truth was, I knew very little.
First, I found an inn and stowed my gear there. I spent the day wandering
the town, watching people work and children playing. I saw with a pang of
sadness a couple kissing and a group of women decorating a church for a
wedding. I wondered if I should envy their lives and whether Mirane had left
me to seek this life. She had never expressed a desire for this domesticity and if
she had come here to join it now, even I was reluctant to pull her away.
However, had she ever desired this, I certainly would have happily provided it
for her. I would have provided anything she wanted and thought that I had.
She asked nothing of me but to be with her, to follow her, and I did.
I returned to the inn and joined the innkeeper for dinner. Soon several,
obviously, affluent townspeople, accompanied us. I looked at my plate for most
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of the meal until one of the guests, he was sporting an a-line jacket with silver
worked designs at the cuffs, piqued my interest. The man noticed my attention
and looked up at me.
“Gyan hired a female guard to bring me this jacket” The man said this in a
too casual tone that clearly meant something more.
“For that one jacket?” asked another incredulously.
“He brought the biggest shipment I‟ve ever received. “
“Anything for an innkeeper.” He laughed.
“A Gyan coat to serve beer,” said another who was dressed just as plainly.
“If he‟s hiring guards, Gyan will raise the prices.”
“This one was his sister.” The well-dressed man spoke again. “She was
no one to mess with.”
“What‟d she look like?” I asked and they all sent me a look to say, how
dare you interrupt us. I was simply unaffected by their regional snobbery. I sat up
taller and leaned back in my chair. I gave each of them a nice image of whom I
easily could be, an even more wealthy regional lord. I could have shown them
the truth but they would not have believed it then.
The man dressed in silver braid looked at me to discern if it was a
challenge but changed his demeanor. “She was dressed entirely in black and
stood a head and a half taller than me. The sword at her hand reached from one
arm to another and she was unafraid to draw my blood.”
“Dark hair, braided down her back?”
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“Yes, like a rope. Her eyes were darker than her dress. Light hit them
and was absorbed.” I smiled at this description, She had very light eyes that
toggled between green and blue. Often in battle, her opponents saw her eyes as
dark, saw her as dark.
“How long ago was she here?”
“Couple of days ago.” I looked back at his plate and scanned the man‟s
mind. I saw how he feared Mirane and how Mirane had drawn her sword to
his neck and humiliated him in front of his guards and his client, Gyan. Mirane
had stolen something from him that he deemed valuable and then paid Gyan
more than he had ever had to before. I stayed in his mind only long enough to
find out that they were from a village called Krahan, half a day south of town.
The man had sent out a guard to catch them the day of their departure but they
slipped by somehow. “Why so interested?”
“I am looking for her.” I replied with as much authority as possible.
“What for?” they laughed.
“Perhaps, none of you gentlemen are aware of quite who that woman is?”
“Gyan‟s sister? We do know who Gyan is, what else do we need to
know.”
“You are worldly,” I said with undetected irony, “Please, excuse me.”
I left them more and more curious and went to my room. I had asked for
a small room, it had only a bed and a narrow area to put my pack. I was hoping
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to save money by the smaller room and I did manage to get a fair price. I sat on
the narrow bed and blew out the lantern so that I had no distractions.
Now that I knew the direction to send my mind I had a chance of finding
her. I guided my thoughts south and honed it on what I guessed to be a village
from the amount of minds that were conscious. I „looked‟ for what seemed the
most familiar and it was not long before I found her. I had promised her many
things concerning my talents of intrusion, her words, but tracking her was not
one of them. I imagined that that was how she eluded me in the first place by
sleeping in those first critical hours. However, now she was awake and I was
able to attach my mind to her sight and to see what she saw. I could chose to see
or to hear but I chose to see because it was tied so closely to the way she feels.
At first the adjustment to human eyes, her human eyes, left me with a
clouded picture but soon it became as clear as they allowed and I was confronted
by her reflection. She was facing a mirror and dressed very finely in a dark blue
dress with crystal beads sewn to the fabric to catch each flicker of light. Her face
was softened and her long hair tumbled freely around her head and shoulders.
She was calm and seemed to be day dreaming at first and then her head perked
up and her jaw drew tense. A figure of a man appeared at the upper left corner
of the mirror and she turned suddenly to face him. I noticed that he was young
and attractive, dressed very simply but well. He leaned in and kissed her on the
mouth and she looked at his hand upon her waist. He looked annoyed and then
withdrew his hand. They spoke for a while and then he kissed her again. He left
Secrets and Illusions 236
and her eyes were red. I would not have been able to pick up many of her
thoughts but those directly related to me would create a connection between us.
She thought of how she loved me and regretted leaving me the way she did.
Then she thought of her husband and how I might respond to that, she reasoned
that I knew by now. She began to pray that I would be there on that spring night
and for a moment my connection to her was broken. No god I knew of liked to
have a third presence involved. Soon, I cut off my scan, I knew that I had broken
my promise to her but at least I knew where she was. I hoped it would be worth
it, if she were to ever learn of this. Of course, if any one blieved that the ends
justified the means, it was Mirane.
I woke up the next morning without any of the loneliness I had slept with
all that night. I spent the morning debating on whether to find her village or not
and eventually decided to spend another day in Kaira. I needed time to think. It
did not appear that she was reconciling with her husband. Nothing appeared to
be what I had expected.
I steadied my concerns by looking for a small gift for her. I would need an
excuse to approach her and her family when I saw them, if I had a gift, even the
most tenuous excuse could be forgiven. For a small town, particularly one on the
borderlands, this small town had quite a few merchants. Mirane would be
pleased, the businesses had uninformative signs and good security and the
houses had tall walls and metal spiked gates. Despite this, I did manage to find a
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metal smith who did fine work. I had learned about sword making from Mirane
and I knew a good one when I saw it. He was good and no doubt Mirane would
appreciate his work but I did not want to get another sword. I was, however,
half tempted to purchase one for myself in case I needed to defend myself.
Hopefully, not from Mirane.
“So, will I be selling you one of these today?‟
“They are very fine,”
“I have developed a technique that makes them even stronger then those
who could purchase in the city.”
“I was looking for a gift.”
“A sword makes a great gift.” He said with a wide smile and a salesman‟s
confidence.
“This is a gift for my lover.” I said.
“I do make a great sword, but perhaps your lover would like something
more delicate.”
“To be truthful, my lover would prefer the sword but I would like to give
her something less lethal, more decorative.”
“Please, may I show you?” The metal smith brought him over to a thick
table and brought out a tiny lacquered box. Inside there were more than a dozen
beautifully crafted golden rings. One quickly caught my attention, detailed knot-
work wrapped around the band interrupted by flecks of garnet surrounding a
very perfect bloodstone.
Secrets and Illusions 238
“How much are you asking for this one?” I asked holding it between my
fingers.
“Three hundred pieces, ten weight.”
“Alright.” There was no need for Mirane to know that I always had a little
extra coin27 in my pack. I handed over the coins.
“She is going to love that.”
“God willing,” I commented unsure that I would find her or she would
consent to accept me, “Thank you for it, though.”
It was nearly dark as I walked back to the inn. The town was settled in for
the night and eating their evening dinners. Most streets were quiet and I felt
lonely for that, too, company. For weeks I had wandered this country alone and
I was greatly relieved to be back in the company of others. As I passed one of the
streets I had explored the day before the shouting and laughter I heard reminded
me of those times. I stayed in the shadows as long as possible even as I walked
towards the merriment. Soon, however, lanterns were lit and there was a great
party being held beyond a gate. It was the wedding I had watched them
prepare. The happy couple must have said their vows by now. Guests were
dancing and eating. The couple could not be seen from where I stood but I
remained just to be near people. I watched, with an admiring eye, the array of
27
Mirane would not have considered this “a little extra coin”.
Secrets and Illusions 239
costumes that floated by me. I remembered, with fondness, the costumed events
my mother had held with great flair and style.
I watched for a long time, the dancing, and tried to learn a few steps from
them. I knew formal Sian dancing and that was all. The human steps seemed
random and unsynchronized. I did not believe I would ever be able to learn it
and though I loved human culture some things were not as good as their Sian
counterparts. My father had always taught me that there was a great deal of
value in both cultures but that just because you loved one or another did not
make all they had to offer without flaw.
Despite that, I was enjoying my voyeurism at that wedding. I veiled
myself in invisibility just to be close to the festivities. I have never been so
thankful that my desperation in this search had led me to such immoral
behavior. It was late when I caught a glimpse of something I could not have
expected. I saw yards of thick, dark, soft looking fabric encrusted with starlit
beading disappear behind a crowd of people. I looked through the crowd and
tried to pick up pieces of their minds that would present me a picture of her face.
Several saw her and she introduced herself. Mirane.
She was here, she was just a few feet from me, and if she turned she might
even see me. She might. Despite my veil, I retreated more into the shadows,
resisting the nearly overwhelming urge to leap the gates and hold her. I could
see the long dress she wore and the back of her head, she stubbornly did not turn
and I felt that we were waging some sort of battle of wills that she was not aware
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of and I could not prevent. Her hair was equally encrusted with starlit pins so
that her whole body seemed to glitter in the night. I imagined that Sian
cosmetics had been applied to her face and that they too glittered. I longed for
her to turn so that I may see her face.
She did not turn. Instead she was kissing the bride on her cheek and
bidding all these strangers such fond good-byes. She touched their hands and
bestowed upon them her wonderful smile. She was slowly extricating herself
from them and was met at the gate by a man who handed her the reign to a tall
and beautiful horse. Another man came with a long cape that I knew was hers.
Slowly, she began riding away from the ceremony.
I stood for a moment and listened to the beast‟s shoes upon the hard
street. Then, I left my place in the shadowed corner and ran quietly after her.
She left the town, slowly riding the horse and never pushing me beyond a walk.
I stayed far enough away that she not heard me but not so far that I would lose
her direction if she decided to travel faster.
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Reunion
Mirane thought of the beauty of the wedding the entire ride home. Dazja
had been so beautifully adorned and her new husband was so handsome and
kind. The temple was dressed as if for the highest holidays in green boughs.
Despite the cold and the late hour Mirane felt truly good. She‟d danced and been
admired without fear and she allowed herself to think of this life, the life she
protected for others.
The trip with Gyan‟s horse took considerably less time than the journey
weeks ago and she was home in just over a mark. The night was cold; her breath
froze in the air. The forest smelled icy and the sound of her horse‟s hooves
echoed out among the trees.
When she entered the village all the windows were dark, all except her
parent‟s windows, which were filled with a warm glow. They were waiting for
her to return home, Gyan was probably with them waiting for the return of his
gorgeous horse and the reviews of his dress from the guests.
She dismounted at the back and entered the house. She expected that they
would want to know all the details, these last few days they were unduly curious
about her invitation and how she knew this woman. Dazja‟s fiancé was a rather
important man in Kaira and her parents wanted all the details. Mirane had
hardly realized that she had attended a rather exclusive ceremony. She did not
pay much attention to the guests‟ names because she did not recognize any of
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them. That was probably what made her successful, she was not overly
impressed nor did she want to curry their favor.
“You are home,” her mother said standing, stretching and trying to look
casual. “How was the wedding?”
“It was beautiful…”Mirane started to speak.
“Who was there?” Gyan asked.
“Did you tell them who made the dress?” her mother asked.
“I told everyone. I‟m sure you will get multiple offers for it.” She smiled
to cover a yawn, trying to pretend she was not tired.
“What was for dinner?” Someone asked and Mirane answered all of their
questions with as much detail as she could. Soon, however, the late hour and the
excitement of the day caught up with her. “Please, I am so tired,”
“You are tired?” her father teased.
“Yes, father, I am.”
“Then, good night.” Her father stood up and kissed her forehead. She left
him there.
“Good night.” The household followed and Gyan slipped out of the house
to his own.
Mirane had only sleep on her mind when she entered her room. When
she saw the package on her bed she knew that she would not be able to close her
eyes. She had forgotten she had coerced the dress buyer into giving her the red
Secrets and Illusions 243
skirts, Gyan must have brought them that night. That they were now in front of
her was frustrating. They were a source of panic and shame. There was no way
she would be able to sleep with them in the house. They deserved only one fate.
She grabbed the package close to her and silently left the house still wearing the
dress Gyan had meticulously created, with little care for it, now. She went far
into the woodlands to the east of the village. She would have cut it down a long
time ago so the village would have a longer range of sight but did not. She
walked further and further, ignoring her exhaustion. Her body often paid the
price of her passion.
When she knew the village was far enough away she built a fire so strong
it burned hot and high. She took her cape off despite the winter night and hung
it on a low branch. The light of the fire cast a ring around her and left the
surrounding forest in a deeper darkness. She unwrapped the package, felt the
fabric and fingered the laces that would hold it closed. She touched the
decorative border on the open front; it bristled and stung. The buyer had not
purchased the apron, so little honor he had. She wanted desperately to throw it
upon the flames; she needed to see the flame eat up the weave but something
stayed her hand.
“Please.” It was voice a timbre she intimately knew but that could not be
here, certainly, of all times, now. Only the calm and familiarity of the voice
stopped her from grabbing her blade.
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“Please,” I said, I had not expected to confront her now. I had wanted to
identify which was her house and to return to Kaira. It had been hard to stay
behind her but once I saw the horse standing in the yard it was not hard to see
her slip out of the back door and run into the forest. The immense fire was my
unmistakable beacon to interfere. Whatever her intentions in coming here were,
there was more than that going on now and it had already gone too far. I
watched her crush what I believed was a dress in her hands and felt such pain
emanate from her. I did not search for it, it came unshielded from her head and
her chest, hotter that the fire and colder than this bitter night.
“Please,” I said wanting to comfort her. I wanted to hold her again and to
take this pain upon myself.
“You‟re here?” She said this turning and facing me, not able to really see
me. Red fabric tumbled from her hands like it was spun of blood.
I stepped into the ring of light and embraced her. “Mirane.” I kissed her
head and her tumbling hair.
“How did you find me so quickly?” She asked thinking of the messenger
who was dispatched only a few days ago.
“I love you.” So quickly, it seemed like months had gone by since I had
last seen her.
Neither of us said anything for quite awhile. We stood in each other‟s
embrace and felt the warmth of the fire. Between us were the skirts to be burned
and she thought suddenly, despite herself that they had probably always been
Secrets and Illusions 245
there. “Help me burn this?” Mirane looked at me, later she would remember the
fire was reflected in my golden eyes, later she might put this all together
differently, but tonight, I was a miracle, a dream, an impossibility.
“I will help.” I took the skirts from her fingers. “Will you tell me what it
is?” Mirane stood, tears dropped from her. I helped her throw it, my hand on
top of hers. We watched as each layer caught on fire. I caught each layer of her
thoughts as she revealed them to me. Together, wordlessly we watched the fire
burn out. I held her close to me. When the last embers died I stood and stomped
out the rest of it. Mirane took my hand and led me home.
Mirane hoped she was not mistaking the emotional upheaval of the day
for the sense of fate and enchantment she felt. Of course, I was not just any man,
was I? She and I walked to her house and crept together into the front room.
Practical decisions needed to be made about her marriage and her family to save
them from disgrace but not tonight. Dawn was a short time away and Mirane
knew that once the long rays of the sun pierced through the trees I would not be
just hers and she not mine. She kissed my mouth and salty tears that were
neither hers nor mine but born out of separation and the pain lovers cause one
another wet her lips and cheeks. She undressed me and felt my hands. Her
body ached for them and each electric touch reminded her of that.
I felt my body melt with hers. I loved her.
Secrets and Illusions 246
Family
Growing up, as I did so close to my mother and father, my brothers and
my sister, then coming to this country and meeting so many of my father‟s
family it had never seemed to me that being without your family was truly
possible. When I met Mirane it seemed she had sprung from some ancient
mythology rather than born of a mother. Of course, I had speculated, rather
enjoyably at what such a family would be like, some liaison between a godly
warrior father and a beautiful maid, perhaps. Mirane, so adamantly, kept all
details of her life before she met me a complete secret that the hope of ever
meeting her family had never raised in my heart. The revelation that she had a
mother and a father came with the solid knowledge that she also came with a
husband that even in my quest to find her I did not speculate on what would
happen when I met them. So I had not prepared for this moment, a rather
significant one, as I had planned for her to meet my own family. And so neither
had I planned on doing so having spent the night on their floor. An accute sense
of alarm and impropriety came over me in my state of half-sleep and I,
immediately, jolted to full wakefulness.
I could barely make out the features of the room in the pre-dawn
darkness. I shook Mirane. She slept solidly next to me. I could not remember
too many mornings when I woke before her and could watch her sleep. I stopped
and admired her long hair flowing unbraided across the hard wood floor; her
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naked body wrapped in a thick quilt sewn together of many colors. Beneath my
fingers, I could feel the tiny stitches that held the quilt together and the rough
human weave that had created the cloth. I lifted my hand to stroke her cheek
and her hair. She looked peaceful, a change from her usual fretful stirrings. I
touched my lips her ear, “Mirane?” I thanked God that she was with me again.
She stirred and pulled the quilt closer around her. I smiled but shook her
more firmly. “Get up.” I got up and pulled on my clothes. I had no intentions to
meet her family naked on their floor. Sleepily she complied. She opened her
eyes and closed them in the near darkness.
“It‟s early.” She moaned sweetly.
“We should appear to be decent.” I smiled and kissed her lips. She
moaned again. There was not much we could do about my midnight arrival
without a great deal of subterfuge. The less said, probably the better. I was sure
Mirane would agree.
“That‟s not what you want,” she said as she reached down to tease me.
She was still sleepy, content and safe in a way I had never seen her. She was
unafraid and relaxed. It was so very pleasant and I wanted to let her draw me in.
“We‟ll wake your family.”
“We did not last night.”
“They‟re probably already coming out of sleep.” I stood and pulled on
my clothes.
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Mirane groaned, “You‟re right, I‟ll be right back.” Mirane crept silently
away, leaving me alone in the room. I stood, uncertain, that I would not be
discovered. Would I put on an illusion, to look like Mirane instead, to be unseen,
to be something else entirely? I laughed to myself and took a seat on one of the
pretty benches around the wall. My hand traced the intricate carving on the lip
of the bench as my eyes wandered the room. Above on a high shelf were several
beautiful pots with the most luminescent color I had seen outside of Sian. I
wondered if they were the work of her husband. I had not prepared myself for
such displays of this other man‟s presence. I would not let him win her.
A few minutes later she returned. She was even less recognizable than
she had been at the wedding. She wore a long homespun skirt, a blouse and a
vest with a small amount of embroidery in a similar pattern to the carving on the
bench. She would have looked sweetly charming if it were not for the
strangeness of it. “I would prefer you say nothing,” she said unequivocally.
I stood up and approached her. I said nothing but I fingered the cloth, the
seams and the feminine details of it. Then, slowly, I said with a measured voice,
“I do not know how you expect me to say nothing.” I could barely contain my
laughter never mind the smile that cramped at the sides of my mouth. She was a
picture of bucolic loveliness; a picture of a milkmaid from the rural countryside
could not have been lovlier.
“I expect that you will refrain from thinking about this at all. Does not
your superior Sian education assure you know how to refrain from speaking?”
Secrets and Illusions 249
“No, I do not think it does.” I answered, amused and delighted. She took
me, tears of laughter swelling in my eyes, outside to discuss the battle plan. The
sky was lightening already and what little warmth the day promised seemed
already to have been reached with the gray sky. I held her as much from the
cold as fear that she could slip away again. She held me to reassure herself that
this was how this was supposed to happen.
“What has been happening here?” The question escaped before I could
stop it. Certainly Mirane would not answer such a personal question.
“You are difficult to read.” She looked straight at me, looking as it she
wished she could read my thoughts. “Your eyes betray nothing. My eyes reveal
it all but not yours, your body remains straight and strong without so much of a
hint of weariness or concern. I have tried these years to discover these signs
about you but there is nothing. ”
I could not have spoken had my life required it. Fortunately, she
continued. She spoke slowly and clearly as it she were deliberating on each
word. “I have come to believe that you learned to communicate almost
exclusively through your shared thoughts that all physical aspects of that
disappeared or never developed. I see myself in your eyes, molten strange eyes,
that I have loved since I first saw them. And I try so hard not to let my feelings
reflect as easily as my face does. So I do not know what it was that you saw last
night, I do not know what you know, now, that you did not know when we
parted, or yesterday. But I have lived in fear you would discover who I really
Secrets and Illusions 250
am? And when you did you would turn your beautiful eyes away from me and
never looked at me again.” Throughout our lives there were few moments of
softness or of vulnerability. Make no mistake here, she was a hard woman and it
I chose to remember these moments it is because I lived for them and they stand
out in my memory as the best times we had.
I looked at her, really looked at her, searched her for any sign that she
believed that. She did. She did at that moment and she would, at times,
throughout our lives. She possessed a sense of self loathing that beat her and
drove her, that I would never understand. I was choked, my gut was twisted. I
wanted to dismiss her concerns, I wanted to wave them away with a light and
witty remark. But I did not feel that lightness. I felt tormented. I had failed to
show her my devotion. I was not sure what I knew now, a little more, and she
was right, it had changed how I saw her but in no way I could identify. I spoke
with a halting deliberation equal to her own. “How can you not know that you
are all that I live for, that I would risk life and death to be near you, that I would
cross the world to find you? How can you not know that?” I wanted to move
closer to her and embrace her but I held my hand on her should bracing me from
her at an arm‟s length. “There is nothing that could be revealed that could
change that. You are who you are and because I am who I am, I can only love
you.”
Mirane came only to my chin height wise and I remember her looking
much smaller. Her eyes darted between my chest and my eyes. She started to
Secrets and Illusions 251
speak a few times with a soft breathy failed word. “I have lived a long time now
fearing that you would discover what you may have discovered last night. I am
ashamed by what you saw. I could not stand for you to think less of me.”
“There is nothing you could tell me that would change the way I feel for
you.” I repeated. I would say it all day. Someday I would fear she would learn
things about me that would justify her fears and raise doubt in her own heart.
“That is very romantic of you,” she smiled softly, then she looked me
directly in the eye, “but no one can promise that.”
“I can.” I replied and I meant it. I did not let our gaze drop, I would not
look away and I did not let her. “I love you with your secrets or without them.
Anything that you could tell me would only increase my regard for you.” If only
she would tell me. I should have known it would not be so easy.
She looked at me for a long moment. I thought that she might begin to
speak and to reveal her secrets, that she might divulge them to me. Instead she
spoke slowly. “I cannot, but please tell me what you know.” That was the
Mirane I knew already building up her steely exterior.
“You are married.” I said trying to keep any intonation of we’ve been
together for five years and at any time during those years, you could have mentioned
that, from my voice. Instead I smiled.
“Yes.” She breathed a sigh of relief. I wondered what she feared more
than that.
“That seems significant?” I prodded for more.
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She smiled as it I weight had been lifted from her. “No, not significant,
not really. Larken and I were not much more than children when we married, a
match made largely by my mother‟s will and perhaps some adolescent affection.
The night of our wedding, Darung raiders attacked this. They came in the dark
with deathly quiet stealth. Larken and I awoke to the horrifying reality of our
room ablaze. We gathered what we could and then rushed out. Like everyone
else we fought off with what we could, Larken and I working together. Larken
was knocked unconscious and I was grabbed from behind and taken away.” She
paused for a long time trapped in her thoughts, trying to choose what she would
reveal and what she would still keep to her. She left more than a little out.
“After my time with the Darung… and then, after I was free, I chose other lovers,
three to be precise and in the interest of honesty. You‟ve met Robideaux, he was
my lover before you. And before the others one, a guard in the King‟s outpost
and the other, a mercenary, I attached myself to early28. I thought less and less
about my husband. After I met you, I only thought of him with regret and then
when you declared your self, proposed marriage, he became a source of conflict
in my heart. ” She paused her stilted retelling and looked at me. This could be
my only opportunity to hear these truths. I wrapped my arm around her and
kissed her head.
“Please, go on.” I whispered.
28
Xylvan was aware of Robideaux, Neveth’s father, but not of any specifics of either man.
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“Yes, my husband, I had no idea that he even lived until you brought me
to Scolar. If I thought about him at all, it was with pity, it was with the hope that
I had been declared dead and that he could marry again. In the beginning, I had
considered returning to my home but I could not bring them my shame, and if I
were to return home there would be no more life for them. Then, I rarely
thought of them. In Scolar, I happened to see an inscription upon the wall; it
bade me to return. I came. It then became my intention to let my parents and
family know that I was alive and to legally dissolve my marriage to Larken. I
need to, legally, free him to marry another.” Mirane looked at me, challenging
me to say something. Her declaration stayed any other question.
“You would consider my proposal, then?”
“I have long considered it.” She replied with a small smile and sincere
eyes, “I have been considering it since the moment it was made, every time it
was made. I have known that you love me, that you follow me, that you weep
for me. I do not believe that I am your best choice, but I believe that you made
it.”
I was careful about my response. The proposal she spoke of initially
happened over four years ago. “I did not know you would take me, you said
nothing.”
“How could you not know?” She smiled. “I simply was not free to marry
another.” I schooled my thoughts, how I would have done things differently,
then, had I known this.
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“Is it possible that you will be free now?” I was not quite sure of Gryth
law. Sian dissolvement was rare and only under very specific conditions.
“Yes, quite, at this point I need to make three public postings of my
intentions and to participate in an unbinding ceremony. “
“And you want to do this?” I raised my eyebrow.
“Yes, very much.” Her smile was so warm and her eyes seemed to hold
such love, “But.”
“But?”
“But my husband has to live here and I will leave, so he has to be
subjected to as little humiliation as possible.”
“Ah.” I nodded. “What have you done already?”
“All the wrong things, I‟m sure.” Mirane answered. “I have started a
rumor about my dissolvement and I have set my brother-in-law to finding him a
wife. I have also told my parents and sister that I have intentions to marry
another.”
“You have?” I asked, that she had agreed to marry me after so many years
was still worming its way into my mind.
“I have mentioned you, but I have not elaborated.”
“What do they know?”
“That your father was a diplomat and that he works with wood.”
Summarizing this made Mirane laugh out loud. She never believed I would be
Secrets and Illusions 255
here. Despite how little she had planned for this, having me here was a factor
that never entered into any of her thoughts even after she sent the messenger.
“Works with wood?” I laughed as well. I remembered all the stories I had
told Mirane about my genealogy and my parents and of all those stories, many of
which would endear a mother to a future son-in-law, she had chosen “works
with wood”.
“Also that you are a battle-illusionist and that you travel with me.”
“Do they know that I am your lover?” I asked this as I burrowed my face
into her hair and kissed her neck.
“Some have come to that conclusion.” She smiled and kissed me back.
“So they know all the bad stuff. “ I seemed to think it would be easy now.
“All I have to explain, now, is that the my mother is a Queen and that I am a tall
dark prince from the far north ready to sweep their rough-hewn daughter away
to a life of royal luxury.”
“Sure.” Mirane imagined her very provincial parents taking one look at
eyes, like solid gold balls and hair twisted in black chain-knots or a morsel of
food slowly masticated on a purple tongue and could not think of a single thing
that could be said that would be acceptable. “That will work.”
“Do you want me to return to Kaira?” I offered with some sincerity. I
could wait there until she sent for me. I offered but I regretted it and prayed she
would not accept.
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“No.” The abruptness of her answer was rather warming. “Would you
want to?”
“No.” I smiled. I reached to her face and pulled her lips close to me
pressing mine against hers full, warm, and delicious. I felt a sense of my thirst
quenched in those lips.
She broke away and smiled. Then she continued with her thought, “I
never gave them time to prepare for me, what is one more surprise.”
“Mirane!” From inside the house her mother was shouting for her.
“Mirane? Did she leave? Where did she go? She did not sleep in her bed?”
There was unmistakable panic in her voice. I worried for her.
Mirane and I stood. “Are you ready?”
29“Yes. If it comes to violence, I‟ll mystify them with my illusions and slip
out the back.” I was trying to influse our sudden situation with humor, for
Mirane‟s sake. Together we walked towards the house, hand in hand.
“Let us keep that for our backup plan,” she whispered Then she shouted,
“Momma,” Mirane called out and her mother raced back into the kitchen. She
was relieved to hear her daughter‟s voice. She had seen her after the wedding,
not hours ago, but something always spoke at the back of her mind that this
child could be so easily taken away again, sword or no sword. She turned the
corner from the pantry and saw me standing with her. Our eyes met. She slowly
29
Though thought by many biographers to be apocryphal this first meeting made a major impression on
both Mirane and Xylvan and most assuredly happened.
Secrets and Illusions 257
wiped her hands on her apron and approached me. Mirane spoke but her
mother did not look at her. Her eyes were focused on me and every sense with
them. “Mother, this is my close friend, he has been traveling a long time to find
me.”
“Xylvan.” Her mother did not choke. “Xylvan?”
“Madam, it is a pleasure to meet you.” I grasped her hand so quickly and
gently she did not think to resist. I kissed her fingers and did not let her look
away from my eyes. She was enthralled. “I am dreadfully sorry for the surprise.
Mirane was not aware that I was searching for her. Else, she certainly would
have prepared you for my visit.”
“It‟s no surprise,” she lied.
“You are too polite.” I had a reserve of manners from my youth that every
now and then, were incredibly valuable. “I cannot even ask for your forgiveness
and I stay only at your leave.”
“Please stay.” Her mother was not experiencing one of my illusions so
Mirane refrained from interfering. Her hand covered her amused mouth. I
scanned her mother‟s mind. When she had heard of me from Mirane‟s older
sister, she had extrapolated a hybrid image of Mirane‟s rough exterior and
warrior wardrobe and some great and fearful picture of borderland masculinity.
With it came a rough mouth, dangerous ideas and atrocious manners. I was glad
that man did not walk in with us, I would have been no match at all for him in
combat over Mirane.
Secrets and Illusions 258
“Thank you.” I released her hand. She continued to stare at me. She
gingerly reached upward and touched my face. Mirane stood back a little and
did not prevent this either. I closed my eyes slowly and her mother withdrew
her hand once she had felt that my flesh was solid and clean-shaven at that.
“He is from a country called Sian.” Mirane touched my shoulder to show
her that I was safe.
“In the north?” her mother asked, she had heard about it.
“Yes.” I decided that I would field all questions about myself so that
Mirane was not put in the position of censoring what they knew. I was prepared
to answer any questions. “I am from Queensrealm Tearisian. That is a small
part of the country not too far from your northern border.”
“Tearisian?”
“Yes. The name comes from our Queen‟s name, Tearisia.”
“And you are like all men from Sian?” her mother asked. Mirane‟s
mother had tried to be subtle in her approach to her children and their families.
She had tried to learn things about them indirectly, but now, faced with me, a
man than she had never seen she felt that any danger needed to be confronted
directly. She did, secretly, wonder to herself if it were only a sense of danger that
made her so aware of me. She promised herself not to be too trusting, like
mother like daughter, I thought.
“No, I am only half Sian. My father is a Gryth man, a diplomat to our
Queensrealm and our country.”
Secrets and Illusions 259
“And your mother?”
“Is Queen Tearisia,” I decided she might respond well to this. If she
viewed me as a personal threat to her safety it might be allayed somehow.
“Did you find her?” Mirane heard her father coming down the stairs.
“She‟s here.” Mirane‟s mother‟s face revealed her own concern.
“Good morning, Mirane.” He called down to her but he had not emerged
in the kitchen yet.
“Papa, I‟d like you to meet someone.” She called this out before she
realized what she was doing and to her mother‟s complete consternation. Her
mother believed that her interview should continue without her husband‟s
knowledge and inevitable interference.
“I‟m coming down.” He set foot in the kitchen and looked at his wife, her
face somewhat guilty and then looked to his daughter searching her face for an
explanation. And lastly, he saw me. He looked me over, taking stock of my long
black hair and embroidered clothes. Then he nodded at me with approval.
“This is my partner, Xylvan.” Mirane introduced us, “Xylvan, this is my
father Jillhue.” The man was barely as tall as Mirane, his hair was thin at the top
and he had a sweet look in his green heavy-lidded eyes. He was the type of man
you wanted to make proud, he was the picture of fatherhood. He looked in
some ways like my own father. How my father must have looked at his sons
with bewilderment, so Sian we looked, so unlike himself.
Secrets and Illusions 260
“Xylvan,” her father extended his hand and refused to be surprised. He
smiled at his daughter. He had been overjoyed each morning to know that once
again she was under his roof and he was making it his personal mission to see
that she be neither taken nor driven away. He knew without a doubt that this
was the man his daughter had taken as her mate and he could see it between us
even now. He knew from Sabrine, another daughter that Mirane had left me in
the night and not told me where she had gone. He could reason then that I had
tracked her all this time and has now come. As a father, under these
circumstances, he did the only thing that he could. “You are welcome in my
home.”
“Thank you, sir.” I bowed my head in deference to the head of this
household and he reached out to grasp my hand.
“Will you join me for a walk, Xylvan?”
“Yes, sir.” I allowed the man to walk passed me and then he followed
him out the door. I felt Sarah‟s sense of loss, her husband had robbed her of her
something and left her with Mirane. When we were beyond the women‟s
hearing her father began.
“I have noticed that Mirane often does things rashly. She does not pay
much attention to the effect it will have.”
“She did not bring me here. I assure you I came on my own.”
“Oh yes, I am certain of that.” Jillhue put his arm around my shoulders.
“I wanted to apprise you of what having her back has meant to us. “
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“I have no intention of taking her away again.” I said.
“I‟m glad to hear it. We do know that we only have till spring,” he said
coolly, he did not expect to keep her longer than that. His only hope was that if
things went well for her while she visited she might be so inclined to visit them
again another year.
“Spring?”
“Yes, she said she would stay till spring and then return to Scolar.”
“Yes, she promised.”
“Maybe now she‟ll stay longer, now that you are here.”
“I do not know.” I answered. Jillhue knew then the way of things
between us and nodded.
“Did you arrive last night?” he asked.
“Yes, I saw her on the road.” I replied
“You keep an eye on her?” He said by way of a question
“I try, she‟s a hard one to keep up with.” I said, testing Jillhue‟s humor.
“Yes, she is. Not afraid of anything, it seems.”
“I think she is.” I had never seen Mirane quake in battle and here at home
all she has done is tremble.
“She‟s faced a lot. She‟s very brave to come here and be who she is.”
“Sir?”
“My wife takes those black clothes around and shows them to the
neighbors. The young women, even those who were friends to her, gossip
Secrets and Illusions 262
maliciously. My sons‟ wives will have nothing to do with her. They are afraid
their own daughters will get the wrong idea.”
“About Mirane.”
“They say she‟s ruined.”
“Does she know that?”
“Oh yes, but she just smiles. You know the way she does.”
“Like nothing hurts her and no one stands in judgement of her,” I said.
“Like a cat.” Jillhue retorted. “Perfectly content.”
“And the rest of the family?”
“My son-in law Gyan, thinks that she‟s a hero.” He smiled and I could see
Mirane in him. “My daughter, Theabe, thinks she‟s, at best, an inconvenience.
No one knows what to make of her.”
“She makes herself.”
“Yes, she does. You will protect her here?” he asked this, suddenly, and I
knew that this was the reason that he had asked him out here in the cold winter
morning. It had nothing to do with parental approval or a father‟s wishes for his
daughter. He had lost all his hopes and dreams for her years ago and now that
she was back, he just wanted her to stay, to be safe, to be…” His thoughts trailed
into a pain at the bottom of his stomach. How he loved her.
“Of course, I will.”
“You love her.”
Secrets and Illusions 263
“Oh yes. Sometimes, sir, I don‟t understand it, but when I think about it,
it is bigger than anything else I know.”
“Wait until you have children,” he mused. “You will be her ally here. It‟s
her against the village and if it is not yet, it will be.”
“And her husband?”
“With you here he will agree to the dissolvement.” Jillhue seemed relieved
and confident but also sorry for the young man. I could feel Jillhue‟s
attachement. He had taken the son when he had lost the daughter.
“Why now?”
“When he sees you, he‟ll give up.” Jillhue sounded more convinced of this
than anything so far.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Thank you.” Jillhue squeezed my arm and gave me another stern nod of
approval. He thought I was strong and frightening and was capable of holding
influence over of his daughter. “If my daughter permits you to become her
husband, I will be proud to call you son. Is it your desire to marry her?”
“It is my most ardent desire.” It shamed me to be her lover and not her
legal husband. A man with no legal connection could be set aside, his woman
may be asked to do that politically. That would hardly apply to the two of us but
I had long ago decided, I would never be my father. But I had followed his
footsteps this long, I could only hope I could have what he did not.
“Let‟s go in, it is cold.”
Secrets and Illusions 264
“Xylvan, do you eat eggs?” Mirane‟s mother had already put a feast in
front of me. Mirane could barely contain herself from laughing.
“I do. But there is already enough food here.” I replied. “Please join us.”
Mirane‟s mother sat and then stood again.
“Mirane never eats anything.”
“Momma, please sit.” Mirane implored and Sarah eventually complied.
To keep her seated Mirane pushed some food onto her plate.
“Thank you.”
“You are welcome.”
“What do the Sian people eat?” she asked popping a dumpling into her
mouth but not blinking, not allowing me a single unobserved second.
“Mostly the same things you do.” I replied truthfully before noting her
disappointment. “However, we have a tree, in the north, that yields a bitter fruit
and we cook it in a hot fire and mix its ashes with cream and it produces the
most succulent liquor.”
“Really.” Her eyes lit up and she longed to hear more.
“Oh yes.” I smiled. Mirane‟s mother was quite different than I would
have speculated. This is the woman who gave birth and raised the most
powerful and dangerous woman I had ever met, perhaps excluding my own
mother, and yet this woman was more like a doting country wife. “Call me
Sarah,” she had said, as if she were not someone deserving of far more respect.
Secrets and Illusions 265
“And there is tiny plant lives in the river with pink flesh. In my tongue is called
a Hyuinjuial.”
“This is not your first language.”
“No, it is my father‟s tongue, he taught it to me so that I could travel here
and meet his family.”
“You speak it very well.”
“Thank you, I have tried hard to learn. There is a different dialect here
than where my father was raised. Some words are still unclear to me.”
“Mirane has helped you?”
“Yes, she is a good teacher.” I smiled at the thought. One night, our first
winter together, she spent the entire night deliciously teaching me all the terms
for making love in the human tongue.
“Good.” Sarah said and looked approvingly at her daughter. Mirane
flashed me a look that I took to mean, how dare you enchant my mother.
“I did no such thing.” I replied. In Sian I would have said it between us.
“Did not do what?” Sarah asked.
“ Sarah, she believes that I have somehow altered your perception of me.
Please believe me, I have done no such thing. I shall not put you to the
inconvenience of describing what you see, so please do forgive Mirane if she
does.”
“I will not.” Mirane blurted out, she was mildly amused at my tactics with
her mother. She and I had often teamed together to defeat a common enemy, it
Secrets and Illusions 266
was the very basis of our life together, but rarely we sided against one another to
form trusting relationships with strangers who needed to be deceived. This was
the natural corollary to the adage, “if you are not with me you are against me,” if
you are against Mirane, then you are with me.
Sarah looked at me and waited a long time before she spoke, “Ah yes, I
know that you are another kind of man,” She was careful with her phrasing,
“and I know that you have strange ways, you do not look as I do, and you
worship a god I do not know and about whom my daughter will not say.” I was
surprised that she said this. No one speaks of god or even thinks of it, it is a rare
exception to our otherwise open society. It would be like discussing making love
I suppose. Making love is only discussed with the lover, of course, I truly
believed her next question would be about our sexual relations. I was equally
surprised that Mirane had mentioned it at all.
Sarah looked at me and the three of us sat quietly for a moment without
saying a word. And then she began to think the situation through. She thought:
“He is very handsome, regardless of that strange tongue and certainly good
enough. He is a prince and certainly that should be good enough for my
unsettled barbarian of a daughter. I must not let Mirane drive him away.” And
that was that. I had gone from a stranger to be feared to a prince, superior to her
own child. I wondered then how exactly my own mother would react to Mirane.
Or, for that matter, how would my sister, Helenestra, ever marry, would there be
anyone good enough for her?
Secrets and Illusions 267
After Mirane‟s mother made me speak in Sian so she could mimic me and
try a few words and after I had answered fifty questions, Mirane asked that we
might be excused. Sarah picked up the dishes and I began to help. I was shortly
shoo-ed away and we were allowed to leave the kitchen. “So what do we do
now?” I asked as we walked through the house.
“What would you like to do?” Mirane asked expectantly. I took her in my
arms and nuzzled her close.
“I want to kiss you, again, I want to run my fingers along your arms, your
face, your breasts.”
“That would not be seemly.” She teased but she did kiss my mouth.
When she pulled away, she smiled, later, tonight.
“Well then, what have you been doing here?”
“I have done some reading and I have visited my husband‟s workshop, I
have watched my sister‟s children, I have escorted my brother-in-law to Kaira, I
have attended a wedding, I have even had a birthday.”
“You have.” I had asked her when she was born and she had always said
she did not remember. Of course she must have remembered but I never pressed
her. In those years before this, I never pressed her. When I met Mirane she
seemed wild to me, so different from the women I had known, my regal mother,
my sophisticated lover, my genteel sister, my juvenile cousin and then Mirane.
The very day I met her I watched her remove the heads from three men and
Secrets and Illusions 268
deliver them to a fourth. She was dangerous and, please, reader, remember I
was a young man. Mirane‟s lithe body, large breasts, sculpted pink face and
chestnut hair were absolutely irresistible. It was during this time, that
everything changed for me.
“Yes, my sister came to tell me.”
“So do I dare ask, what is your age?”
“I am twenty-xix.” Mirane answered. I smiled, for I had always wondered
whether she were older, she had seemed to me to be older. “We are the same
age.”
“You knew that and never told me.”
“I never thought of it.”
“Then I have a gift.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the topaz
ring. I wished that I were able to put a spell on it so that if she were to ever be
away from me I would be able to know where she was and she, I. I wished there
were a cord strung between our hearts that we never be separated again. I held
her unadorned fingers in mine. “May I?”
“Yes, it is beautiful, I do not have anything like it.” Mirane did not know if
she had owned anything so exquisite with the exception of last night‟s gown.
“I found it in Kaira. I thought I might need an excuse to come and find
you.” I tried to smile with all my charm.
“It is very beautiful, thank you. I am awkward in such things, am I to
consider this a beautiful but mere gift or…”
Secrets and Illusions 269
“Or a token of our engagement?” I asked her. I looked at the ring and felt
equally awkward. I did not have a Sian sho’en’shy. I worred that this trinket was
insufficient. “I shall not ask a married women to marry me, and when I do ask
you, you shall have something far more suitable.” I was once asked how I could
not rail at her for this betrayal, how I could be so calm with her. It was clear, by
this time, I had explanations. She had only ever given me mystery and now
there was truth and with this truth there was action.
“Well, thank you.” I tried to discern if that was disappointment in her
eyes but she looked again at the ring. I do believe there was but I could do
nothing differently.
“Do you like it?”
“Very much, I do like jewelry.” She said as if she had said it a hundred
times.
“Then I should make sure you have more.”
“Yes, you should.” Mirane smiled and reached for my hand.
“And so how will we spend this winter.”
“You just arrived, take some time to enjoy the quiet.” If I had been wrong
about how she would be affected by jewelry I could understand that, but I was
certain that Mirane had never said that we should relax.
I laughed and agreed. “All right then.”
“Let us go to my room, after all.”
“What about your mother?”
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“I do not know.” Regardless, she led me upstairs with her hands and her
kisses. She closed the door and gathered me to her, pushing her against the
door. Her fingers unbuttoned my shirt and pulled back the Gryth linen over my
shoulders. She kissed them with hot hungry lips. She pushed my shirt down my
back tickling my spine with her fingertips. I unfastened the ties that held her
dress in place and pushed them off her shoulders and to her waist. Her scarred
body was just as beautiful as the first time I saw her. I traced my finger along the
line of her collarbone across her chest to the center of her throat and then slowly
to the valley of her breasts. I leaned in and kissed her throat, her chest and her
breasts, taking each nipple into my mouth. As scarred as she was about her
wrists, her back, her ankles, her abusers had left her face and breasts unmarred.
These scars represented torture and no aesthetic. She had told me once; they
were because she was a warrior. I had accepted it. Warriors have scars. I knew I
had mine.
I lifted her breasts to my mouth and then lifted her to me. Those who hear
stories of her remember her as taller with broad muscled shoulders but she was
easily a head shorter than I. I lifted her up to my face and she wrapped her legs
around my waist, her village skirt fell around her in all directions. She counter-
balanced our weights and tumbled me to the bed. She unfastened my trousers
and took me into her mouth. “Love,” I growled and pulled her up to me. We
had a very pleasant afternoon, completely undisturbed.
Secrets and Illusions 271
Sarah‟s Feast
Almost as soon as we had disappeared upstairs, Sarah had made up her
mind. She left the house to our use and went to the home of her eldest daughter
Sabrine. From there Sabrine‟s three sons were dispatched to the homes of her
twin sons and her youngest daughter.
“And Larken?” Sabrine asked.
“He is away.” Sarah said with a twinge of guilt. There was no doubt in
her mind that she was replacing one son with another. Moreover, as wrong as,
she felt that might be, she knew there was no other choice. “And the prince is
here.”
“The Prince?”
“The Prince, Xylvan.” Sarah smiled as Sabrine‟s jaw slackened.
“When?”
“Last night.”
“But we all saw her last night.”
“He came after her, he tracked her here.”
“And what is he like?”
“He is completely unbelievable.”
“Do you like him?”
“It does not matter.”
“Of course it does.”
Secrets and Illusions 272
“Mirane likes him.”
“Yes…?”Sabrine responded.
“He likes her. He followed her here.”
“What else do you know, have you spoken with him, tell me more.”
“Yes, I have spoken with him. Tonight you will know more. We shall
feast for him tonight.”
“Why not now?
“They are not here.”
“How can she hide him?”
“They are reacquainting themselves.” Sarah was not as uncomfortable as
Sabrine would have thought. Sabrine looked at her mother. “I‟ll see you
tonight.” Sarah collected herself and swished out of Sabrine‟s house with a
satisfied turn of her skirt. It was good to occasionally have information Sabrine
did not have.
That evening Sabrine was the first to arrive with her three sons, Jothy,
Kale and Miro. Immediately, they were clashing wooden swords and making
enough noise to draw Mirane and I downstairs. Mirane looked around with a
suspicious eye. Before she could back us up the stairs one of the most beautiful
women I had ever seen caught my eye. She was so clearly Mirane‟s blood,
shorter but with her long chestnut hair. Her eyes were bright blue on a perfect
human complexion. She and I locked eyes. This could be no other than a sister.
Secrets and Illusions 273
Mirane, once a loner with no history, now stood not four hands from a sister.
Sabrine raised her hand to acknowledge me without looking away.
Mirane looked back and forth between us. She took a breath and steeled
herself. She reached behind her for my hand. Together we joined Sabrine‟s
family.
“Sabrine, This is Prince Xylvan.” Sarah flew forward and introduced me.
“Xylvan, this is my oldest daughter Sabrine.”
We nodded heads to one another and Sabrine flashed me a smile so like
her sister‟s I caught myself leaning towards her. “And these are her sons, Jothry,
Kale and Miro, named for his prodigal aunt. Sarah put her hands on each of her
grandson‟s heads. Her pride in them was clear. “Everyone is coming tonight,
my sons, daughters and grand children. Please make yourselves comfortable.”
She said before she took herself back to the kitchen.
“They are such handsome boys, Sabrine.” I told her. She smiled and I
sensed a wave of loss from her that did not surprise her, it was just part of who
she was.
“Thank you.” I nodded to her with respect but felt I could not address
her, without addressing her sadness and her grief. I wondered how her family
lived with it, did they see it.
Secrets and Illusions 274
:Achem des-ett hun jumin jenpaleh, ceridwin des-ev shy’isiah30.: I sent her an
unspoken prayer of Sian comfort, she did not understand the words but she
recovered from her sadness and smiled.
“They are my pride and joy.”
“Where is Gyan?” Mirane asked rather obstinately not seeing her sister‟s
grief.
“He‟ll be along shortly, he is…” before she could finish her sentence
another sister arrived. This one was even shorter than Sabrine. Her Krahan
chestnut hair was evident but thin and cropped short. She was too thin and
severe; she had neither Mirane‟s muscled body nor Sabrine‟s luxurious curves.
By her side stood a tired looking young man and on each of their hips perched a
little girl.
Sarah stormed out of the kitchen to make the introductions. “Xylvan, this
is my daughter, Theabe, her husband, Lome and their daughters, Terah and
Linna.”
“Hello, Grandma.” Linna, said and reached out for Sarah.
“Hello.” Sarah smiled.
“Xylvan,” Theabe looked at me harshly. She was a spiteful little woman.
“It is a pleasure to meet you.” I lied.
“Yes. Are we to call you brother?” Theabe said with spite and derision in
her voice. Mirane shot her sister a murderous glance.
30
It is of no comfort, I know, but your daughter is with God
Secrets and Illusions 275
“You may call him, Prince Jimerateal of Queensrealm Tearisia.” Mirane‟s
voice, when she wanted, was sharper than her sword.
“And what sort of place is that?”
“My mother, Queen Tearisia‟s, Queensrealm.” I, deliberately, spoke
slowly to make her think, that I thought she was slow. Then I filled her mind
with visions of my mother‟s palace.
“Well that is fine then, welcome brother.” Her entire family was watching
and she felt compelled to conform to them.
“Please, there is no need of that, Xylvan shall suffice,” I said with a
charming smile. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“Indeed.”
While Mirane finished speaking with her youngest sister, the house was
once again filled with guest as two additional families entered. Theabe retreated
from her sisters and joined her brothers near the door. “These are my brothers,
Sam and Amach and their wives Avsha and Andray and their children.” Mirane
waved her hand in their direction. “I do not know their names.”
“Perhaps we should introduce ourselves to them.”
“We will find no allies among them.”
Had I not just met that Theabe, I would have had a hard time believing
that her whole family was not overjoyed for her return. I imagined how it would
be if one of my brothers were to leave for so long, there would not be a single one
of us who would not embrace him and welcome him back home. But then,
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again, it was not just one of my brothers who had left, it was me. I hoped that I
would receive a more receptive homecoming than my love received here.
“How do you know?” I whispered.
“A short skirmish with the business end of an ax left little question of their
filiality.”
The fear that my own Sian return be met as coldly and the idea that her
own family insulted and rejected her had me across the room to meet these
brazen, judgmental young boys. I was there before Sarah or Mirane could cross.
“Come in, come in.” I said neglecting to introduce myself.
“Boys.” Sarah said, ignoring all evidence to the contrary. One of the
identical men glowered down at her and she glared right back into his eyes.
“Sam, I‟ve heard enough from you already.”
“Where‟s my brother?” Sam said.
“Beside you.” Sarah gritted her teeth daring him to push the subject.
“Who is this?” Sam looked at me and his twin measured me with his eyes.
I was taller but they were each broader and heavier. They were very serious
young men with no obvious sense of humor or lightness. I was considerably
under impressed with each one.
“Goodness,” I said extending my hand. “I‟m Xylvan. I thought you might
have known.”
“Why would I know you?” Amach spat at me. Sam was the leader of the
two of them but Amach would clearly put in a derisive comment if he were
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confident his brother would approve. Regardless, I was brought up in a civilized
court of Sian. I certainly could parry their amateur slights if I wished. There was
no need to as I sent him an image of his sister giving me quite an inviting glance.
The man scowled. “He is her lover.” „Lover‟, had never sounded quite so vile to
me.
“Her affíanced.” I corrected.
“Not possible,” Sam replied with such arrogance I was embarrassed for
his wife and children. “She is still wed to our brother, Larken.” Sam said
Larken‟s name as if the man were a saint, a model husband, and a hero.
“It is true.” I was unconcerned. I had been assured the dissolvement
would be easy to procure and I had little doubt of Mirane‟s love. “I look forward
to meeting him. I wish to discuss our mutual dilemma. It is my understanding
that he is away and will be for at least a few days.”
“If she were my wife I would not leave at all.” The twins looked at one
another in agreement and skepticism in Larken‟s judgement. I scanned their
thoughts and neither was pleased with Larken‟s patience and complacency.
Both believed if you wanted something or someone you just took them.
:Is that not the way our Mirane was taken on her wedding night, just
taken?: I said into their minds. I had not realized it but every one in the room
was watching us. We had said nothing in several seconds but had locked eyes
and showed no sign of relenting control.
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“What are you?” Sam said derisively, as if I were an animal and he a
civilized man.
“I am partner to Mirane and I am a Prince of Sian. I am someone of whom
two young cubs should be wary.”
“Do not threaten us.” Amach said.
“I‟ve never failed to win any battle I began, I have received the best
education and training money can buy, I‟ve traveled for years with the greatest
fighter Gryth and the borderlands have or have ever had and I do not make
threats.”
Before these arrogant boys could say another word, I turned to our
hostess. “I cannot believe you have put together such a feast. I am honored to be
among you. I do not wish to cause any conflict in your home. Please forgive me
for defending my love‟s honor.”
Sarah had secretly, always wanted a man for Mirane who would be her
protector, someone who loved her as unconditionally as her parents had and as
passionately as a lover, regardless, of how difficult and different she was. She
flashed a look of shame to her sons, which each of their wives made sure they
saw.
I looked across the room to where Mirane and Sabrine were watching.
Sabrine released Mirane‟s hand and Mirane strode across the room to my side. If
her brothers had anything else they wished to say, the sight of Mirane changed
their minds. Mirane wrapped her arm around my waist and turned me around.
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“What, „never failed to win in a battle I began.‟”
“Please, have you ever seen me bested in battle?”
“Never,” she smiled and kissed me. It meant little that she had never seen
me in a physical battle.
Although they had been shamed and humiliated, Sam, Amach, and
families stayed for the feast and made themselves comfortable in the great room
with Theabe and her husband.
The worst the evening had to offer had happened in those first
introductions. Sarah‟s feast was delicious and a line had been drawn through the
table and it was clear who supported Mirane and who did not.
Then just as we were sitting down, one more joined us. He was a small
thin man with neatly cut hair, shaved face, and quick smart hands. “Ah, Prince
Xylvan,” said Sarah as if she were conducting a royal affair. “Allow me to
present our genius, Gyan Ciarov, the tailor.”
I stood to welcome him. I was in disbelief, certainly there was no way that
I would be sitting at the same table as Gyan Ciarov of Gryth. “Is Ciarov a
common name?” I asked awkwardly.
“Why, no, why?” Mirane asked motioning for Gyan to come closer. She
began to suspect that the only person I would hold in any esteem would be the
gifted tailor. She was more than amused with her revelation.
“Why are you laughing?” Sarah asked annoyed with Mirane.
“Because, my love may just leave me for my sister‟s husband.”
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“Mirane, that is inappropriate.” Sarah clucked at her. Mirane continued to
laugh even as her brothers threw down their forks and glared at her.
“Mirane?” I said.
“Xylvan, this is Gyan Ciarov,” she turned to Gyan, “every time he sees
your name somewhere he either buys something and sends it north or he covets
it for himself. I do not understand Sian clothes worship but you very well may
be a god to them.”
“Now blasphemy, I‟ve had enough.” Sam shouted.
“Quiet down,” Sarah chided off handedly. “We do have quite an
assembly of a family, heroes, Princes, and famous artists.” She smiled widely and
with such pride her sons had reservations that it did not include them.
“Gyan, it is a great honor to meet you.” I reached across the space
between us and took his hand. Gyan knew that his clothes traveled widely and
that there was sometimes a demand he could not meet, but he was humbled that
I would know him.
“Thank you, it is an honor to meet you as well.”
“Ah, I am no one, I am but Mirane‟s shadow.”
“And I am but her dresser.” The two of us looked at each other and smiled
at our shared connection. Sam was not happy. But nobody noticed that. Gyan
took his seat by his wife and they shifted imperceptibly closer to one another like
two plump ducks.
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Training
Mirane‟s brothers‟ beds were short and hard. Hard headboards must
have bound them in their sleep for the years between their first growth spurt and
the time they took their wives to other houses. Clearly, their moods had not
improved since. I was sure they reposed in huge beds with no footboards.
However, since I would not disrespect my hosts by suggesting I should return to
their daughter‟s bed, I was in this room for the duration.
When morning came with the first appearance of gray light in the narrow
eave window, I creaked from the bed and dressed beneath the low gable. Then I
went to the highest point in the room and stood as tall as possible. There had to
be a better way for this room to be. I moved the two small beds together and
pushed them into the gable. Then I could sleep diagonally across them, I could
get a little more space that way for the nights and I could stand in the middle of
the room. This did also make for an unexpected discovery. Beneath one of the
twin‟s beds was a set of wooden practice blades. I pulled them out. They were a
good weight for me, although I did think Mirane would scoff at them.
Regardless, she and I had talked of training me for years, perhaps this would be
a chance to do so.
I laid them across the bed and went into the hallway. Mirane‟s door was
still closed and I looked at it for a long time, tempted to slip inside, to slip inside
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her bed and her body. I wanted to watch her sleep. I wanted to wake her.
Instead I went downstairs and joined her parents at their table.
Their house was very charming. Two large rooms occupied the first floor
each running from the front of the house to the back. Toward the back of the east
room was a large table for meals, a large cooking hearth and beautifully carved
cabinets. The front of the room had built in benches and shelves; I had spent my
first night there. I believed there were bedrooms or storage rooms beyond the
wall. Upstairs, of course, were three small bedrooms.
“Is Mirane still asleep?”
“I believe so, I did not look in on her.”
“Jill, perhaps you should find a project for her.” Sarah said looking at her
husband. “I‟ve tried to interest her in work around the house but I do not think
she understands.” I never thought I would be so grateful to have non-readers
near me. The absurdity of anyone trying to coax Mirane into housework was
more than I would have been able to shield.
“Why does she need a project?” Jillhue asked.
“Is she going to spend the entire winter sleeping, pubbing, reading,
and…” she looked at me with a mother‟s eye and my cheeks blushed?
Jillhue looked at me and then taunted his wife with a: “Why not?”
Sarah gave him a hard look, “Because it is unseemly, a young woman
should have things that she is doing.”
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“She is, she…”Jillhue knew that there must have been something but they
were not coming to the top of his mind.
“What does she do during the rest of the year?” Sarah turned to me,
surely she had spoken to them of her work.
“Winter is our fallow season, if you will. In the winter we set up contracts
for paid jobs. Some of which can be done in the winter but most are done in the
spring. In the early spring we work our way towards the western border, several
hundred marks north of here, I suppose. Then we travel north along the
settlement borderlands throughout the summer. We travel to about eighty
towns, villages and settlements in this area. Mirane reviews their progress from
last year, she advises them of their next phase of building and she makes a case
for why this is important. I interview survivors, speak with witnesses about any
recent attacks and try to discover patterns that we can defend against. I also help
to distance survivors‟ memories so they can be a little easier to bear. This takes
us through the early fall, we start moving south east again to make paid
contracts to support next summer.”
“So what would Mirane be doing now?”
“Sleeping, eating, reading, and…”I joked but Sarah did not see the humor.
Jillhue looked away and smiled. Mirane had clearly gotten her smile from her
father. I could see a lot of the child in the man. I made a promise to spend more
time with him, perhaps I could learn about her.
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Mirane chose this moment to enter the room. She was dressed in her
regional apparel and was fresh faced. Her long hair was wound around her
head in a continuous braid. No sign of last night‟s adventures showed on her
face. “Good morning.”
“What are you going to do today?” Her mother shot at her.
Mirane looked at me and to her mother and father. Her mother was
waiting for an answer. Mirane looked at her, I could see Mirane‟s mind
discarding a long line of nasty retorts and sharp replies to find one that was
appropriate or at least, speakable.
“Mirane, perhaps today is a good day to begin our arms training. I found
practice blades under the beds.” Mirane looked at me with genuine gratitude.
“Training.” Her voice was velvety and kind despite the many unkind
thoughts that had gone through it. “Did you have something else planned for
me?”
“What do you mean by training?”
“Xylvan relies too heavily on his hocus pocus, I think he should know
how to carry and use a blade.”
“He does not!” Sarah exclaimed.
“No.”
“And you drag him through the borderlands, unarmed.” Sarah‟s position
seemed to flash around faster that Mirane‟s sword.
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“Training begins today!” Her mother declared. As much charm and
intelligence she had received from her father, her authority came from her
mother. “Upstairs with you both, I want to see you both down here in old
clothes you can work in.”
And up we went.
Mirane lifted her wooden sword and I lifted mine. “You‟re ready for
this?” Mirane said this as she rushed at me with the practice staff. I had no time
to block, so I deftly stepped out of the way. She was smart and did not loose her
balance. Instead she shifted her weight and spun around low catching my leg
with the weapon.
Despite the shooting pain in my leg I squared off with her again and
leaned forward to attack her. I thought of creating an image of myself, one that
was considerably more adept at this. Had I not promised her I would use no
illusions, I may have done just that. Last winter we had discussed my learning
to fight but we had not done it. As I watched her come at me with her staff I
could not help think that I was hoping I could put this off indefinitely. I just
barely evaded her blow before launching my own.
I brought my blade down with all my weight and she deflected it and
unbalanced me entirely. I rolled on the ground and wretched my shoulder. I
stood up and squared with her again. She was giving me no verbal instruction;
she expected that I would watch her and learn. I wondered if she planned on
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beating it into me herself. Already her staff was poised for smashing my body
into much smaller pieces. I avoided again by stepping to the side and she caught
me in the waist. I could not beat her or best her, my only hope of maintaining
any dignity was to avoid moaning and crying out.
It seemed a long time that we smashed weapons together, that is, she
smashed weapons against me. She was glad that I had agreed to learn. As she
fought she worried about me and whether I was safe. If I had some skills she
could concentrate more on her own battle. She had great faith in my illusions
and knew they had saved her on many occasions, however, in her mind they
were no substitute for iron.
“How are you doing?”
“Not good.” I smiled and held my side. “Is this how you teach?”
“It‟s better than the way I learned.”
“That is little comfort.” I was still gasping for the breath she had hit out of
my lungs.
“Had enough?” Mirane put down her blade and stretched her limbs out.
She did not have a lot of room to move around it with the tight bodice but she
did not want her body to be any less limber.
“I think that is enough for today.”
“Fine.” Mirane collected my weapon and we went back in the house.
Inside her mother had put out some warm water for them to wash.
“Mirane?” her mother said softly with her hand on my arm.
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“Yes.” Mirane had splashed the water on her face and her neck with no
regard for her dress or hair.
“You were so hard on him.” Mirane and I shot each other a look of great
surprise and mixed feelings of comfort and danger.
“Madam,” I began.
“Sarah.” She corrected.
“Sarah, Mirane has learned to fight in a way that fighting is used. She
knows, I know that it is not pretty or choreographed.”
“But she struck you.”
“I should not have let her.”
“Are you alright?”
I ignored the spreading bruises I knew were under my coat and lied.
“Yes.”
“Mirane, why do not you let Xylvan have the warm water and you can
wash out back.” Her mother had just punished her and she cast me a helpless
look.
“Sarah, I need to learn to do this.”
“I can see that.” Sarah replied and grasped Mirane‟s wrist and led her out
of the room.
“Can you not start slower, he‟s never done this.”
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“Xylvan is a grown man.” Mirane replied. She needed to dispel any
protectiveness her mother had concerning me if we were to accomplish anything
here at all.
“Does that mean you can pummel him with your sword.”
“It was a practice staff.”
“You do not want him to leave you, do you?”
“He will not leave. Look how far he has come.”
“Exactly, how much can a man take?”
“He is not leaving.”
“Just go upstairs and change your dress. That one needs to be aired out.”
“Mother.”
“Go.” Her mother was very firm with her and she chose not to argue.
She climbed the stairs to her room and chose one of the dresses that the villagers
had made for her. They were all basically the same with the notable exclusion of
Gyan‟s gift. She pulled the dress, a dark green one with a bit of trim at the collar,
over her head and straightened it along her curves. It was intended to fit tightly
and it did. She took a deep breath and secured the laces. She unbraided her hair
and ran a brush through it several times. If her mother were going to exile her to
her room she would take her time there. When her hair was free of tangles she
wrapped it and pinned it to her head in the style she had noted the ladies at the
wedding had used.
“Are you pouting?” I asked as I pushed the door ajar.
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“No, come in.” Mirane stood gestured to open the door for me.
“I think we should find somewhere else to practice.” I sat down on her
bed and pulled her into my lap.
“I think you are right.” Mirane touched my head and I closed my eyes so
she would stroke it. “I‟ll brush out your hair.”
“Really?” I had never heard her ask. So different she was after this time at
home. In winter she was always softer and more affectionate but the thought of
spring kept her focused on finding work. Here she could not have a thought
further from her mind.
“Yes.” She reached for the brush and kneeled behind me. I had it chain-
knotted only a few times, which she undid and watched the hair puddle onto the
coverlet. Her mother made the bed for her while she was gone. She pulled out
any knots. “Are you dreadfully injured?”
“No, your mother has never seen this, I would guess.”
“I do not know what she‟s seen.” Mirane stroked my head and I
practically purred my enjoyment. As she brushed she kissed my head. We
spoke about small things, comforting words in their ordinary way. She brushed
my long hair until it shown glossy and silky. I loved the attention, I loved the
feel, I loved the intimacy of it.
“Stand!” she said after a long while and I complied. She gave the length
of my hair one last stroke and then folded it up and tethered it at my neck. “Let
me cut this?” She teased.
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“Cut my hair?”
“How can you stand it?” She asked
“Yours is as long.” I retorted.
“But it is up out of the way.” She gestured to its neat pinnings
“It is not in my way.” It was not. That would be like saying why not go
naked, these clothes are in the way.
She plunged her fingers into it. “I would not mind that.”
“If I went home without it, no one would recognize me.” I replied.
“There is something to be said about being unrecognizable when you go
home.”
“There is?” I pulled her into my arms and brought her close to my chest.
“We all change too much to go home.”
“But here you are.” I said.
“Here I am.” She repeated.
“And all is better than you could have expected?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that it took you so much to get here, there must have been
something to be afraid of, and yet here we are, together under your own parent‟s
roof. It is miraculous to me. What can happen now?”
“Mirane,” her mother called up the stairs. “Miro came over while you
were out back and asked if you would go out there.” Mirane rolled her eyes at
her mother‟s intrusion.
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“Thank you,” she called back.
“Are you going?” Mirane could hear her mother on the steps.
“Did he say why?”
“No.” Her mother stood in the doorway.
“Did he say if it‟s an emergency?”
“Oh no, he came out for preserves”
“And…”
“He saw you beating up Xylvan and wanted you to show him how.”
Mirane smiled and avoided letting her irritation show through her face. “I
would like to visit your sister again. We did not get to speak at the feast.” I
offered
“Xylvan does not need to go if he does not want to.” Her mother wished I
would stay. I smiled and shrugged my apology. “I‟ll get your cloak.” Sarah said
and disappeared.
“You did not …”Mirane saw her mother‟s disappointment. Mirane
turned to me and started to ask.
“Of course not.” I shrugged. “Perhaps she has your exquisite taste in
men.”
Mirane kissed me and then grasped my hand. “Let‟s go.”
“You are not going to beat up those boys are you?”
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“Mother!” Mirane‟s shock came through in her voice. Her mother looked
to me with a countenance of apology for her unruly daughter. Mirane did not
try to remedy it, she just left and I followed her. “I just might.”
“Just think. When we go to Sian my father may fawn over you and tell me
I‟m being a total oaf.”
“We will see.” Mirane may have just promised to go to Sian with me,
however, I did doubt it.
“Where does your sister live?”
“Not far.” I looked around the village and knew that no one lived very far.
Mirane pointed to the house with the quaint little white washed fences and
curtains in all of its glass windows. The same house that had a small herd of
little boys was running around it. They saw us and ran toward us.
“Aunt Mirane!” one or more boy shouted at them and they broke through
the gate and onto the frozen road. They stopped suddenly when they saw me up
close. They huddled closer together but no one left.
“Miro said he saw you with your sword,” said one boy nudging his little
brother. All were waiting for her to answer yes.
“Can you show us?” called another boy and Mirane noticed a few of the
boys were girls and they were shouting just as loudly. She looked around and
saw that curtains were being pulled aside and prying eyes were peeking around
to see what all the noise was about.
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“Let us go back to your mother‟s house.” She touched the top of one
Kale‟s head and led them to her sister‟s back yard where the garden was frozen
over and only a thin layer of snow dappled the ground. Once there she kneeled
down next to them and I went to the back of the group.
“Show us.” They shouted but Mirane‟s serious face sobered them. She
looked up over their heads and made eye contact with me. I tried to decide
which images they could be shown with as much impact as possible.
“It is not a game and you need to be very careful when practicing that you
do not seriously hurt your opponent. Fighting has only one purpose and so do
swords. That is killing. If you draw your blade your enemy has to make a
decision, kill you or be killed.” This was an exaggeration certainly but she felt
the distinction did not need to be made now to these boys. I used one of the
illusions I had used in Damal and began to set in motion in the center of the
boys. They watched, engrossed, as the two fighters squared off with such anger
in their eyes. Their exceedingly long blades were drawn and they clashed loudly
in the boy‟s ears. One of them got in a good swing and produced a terrible gash
in his opponent‟s leg and blood started to flow on the snow. If there was blood
in an illusion, I usually tried to put in snow too. Of course, snow is a Gryth
phenomenon, it is cold and terrifying, but it also makes the perfect white
backdrop to pools of blood. The boys were cheering and I knew that it was time
to escalate the illusion. When I was done and the boys‟ faces were completely
pale. They looked to Mirane. “That could not happen here,” they said.
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“It happened here when you were babies.” She replied and they turned
their lost faces to her. So she gave them a short lecture on how to protect their
village and their parents and never had this village ever seen such an attentive
group of school children. The girls hidden among the crowd asked very pointed
questions and all the children agreed to go home and talk to their parents about
an evacuation plan. Each child would have a place to hide until their parents
came to collect them. Even the older boys agreed to these terms.
After this the boys scattered back into the village and the few girls
remained with a few more questions. Mirane found it harder to allay their fears.
“Alright.” She said. “If your mother‟s let me know it‟s alright, I will show
you how to protect yourselves.”
“Will you talk to them?” The girls were scared and Mirane wondered how
she was going to convince these women, most of who were her brother‟s wives
or their friends, to let the girls learn this. Mirane then realized they would never
consent so she spent the rest of the afternoon showing the girls how to hide and
how to remain very still. She taught them how to recognize possible weapons
around them and where to hit an enemy to cause maximum pain with minimal
danger. When she was done she knew that she would be making a lot of
apologies and that her mother would have more than a few choice words for her.
Even though Sabrine had come out and listened to the lesson she knew it would
not be enough. It would be made more complicated that she was not sorry.
Those girls now knew better than any one in the village and if they were attacked
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those girls would be safer than just about anyone else. That is if they
remembered what to do and if they realized that dying was the worst thing. She
charged them to find several hiding spaces in the village and just outside of it
and she told them to practice. “If any others want to know tell them or send
them to me.”
The girls thanked us both she and I and then returned home just before
dark. “Do you think I will be lynched?” she asked light heartedly.
“Maybe, I saw that illusion and watched the boys run away. “
“It could happen.” Mirane replied.
“It has.” Sabrine said quietly. She wished her own boys had stayed as
long as the girls. She was glad that Mirane decided to teach first and ask
permission later.
“Sabrine, it is a pleasure to see you again.” I took her hand in mine and
squeezed it. Her resemblance to Mirane was irresistible.
“Thank you, it is good to see you. I thought perhaps, you would like your
own evacuation plan from mother‟s.”
“Yes, it is going to be a long winter.”
“I wish it to be long, a long winter is all we have.” Sabrine looked sadly at
her sister. Sabrine loved her sister deeply and was the most moved by her
return.
“So how do you think other mothers will feel about our teaching this
afternoon.” Sabrine looked at her straight in the eye.
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“I do not care. It keeps my sister alive and teaches my little ones the
gravity of where they live and how to stay alive themselves. I love it.” Sabrine
was very serious she had not thought that there were tangible things she could
teach the little ones and she lived in fear that she would loose them in front of
her eyes like last time. “Please come inside, it is so cold here.”
“Yes. Thank you.” I was the first one in the house. Already I had endured
this frozen winter day too long.
“Are you expected back for dinner?” Sabrine asked as she set plates out
on the table.
“I believe we are. Mother barely relinquished him to come here.”
“Then sit, I will make tea and we shall all enjoy the time we have.”
Sabrine was desperate to hold onto her sister. She was desperate to mother her
and confide in her, to befriend her and teach her. She was mourning the sister
she knew and affirming the Mirane who returned. She had no time for her
sibling‟s foolishness or her mother‟s fretting. She had serious things to do. For
Sabrine, serious things happened in the afternoon, around the hearth, with a cup
of tea. Mirane took my hand and squeezed. I held her shoulder and massaged
the tense muscles beneath the skin.
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Accusation
“You are not going up there,” was the first sound that woke Mirane a few
mornings later. Each of us bolted upright when we heard the shouting. Mirane
hoped it had not disturbed me as she recognized Larken‟s voice. We each stood
and dressed. She met me out in the hall and we went down the stairs together.
Her parents barely held Larken back from barging up to us.
“Larken.” Mirane‟s steely voice had stopped some of the most dangerous
men we had ever encountered; it had stopped drunken men, crazed desperate
men, cruel women and worse. It was unmistakable and very effective.
“Mirane! This is too much. How dare you allow the whole village to
believe we are going to dissolve our marriage and then bring in this man?”
Larken was too busy shouting to look at me.
“Larken, lower your voice.” Mirane said very firmly. Her voice had no
affect on him.
“I will not lower my voice. These are your parents. We have no secrets
from them.”
“Lower your voice, sir.” I put my hand on Larken‟s shoulder and let him
feel the weight of it. I was a stair above him and attempted to look as foreign
and as dangerous as possible.
“Take your hand off of me!” he shouted. He shoved me hard and then
pulled out a knife from his trousers. Mirane did not wait to see whether I lost
my balance or not, she clutched his neck, disarmed him and pushed him down
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the stairs to a bench in the kitchen in what seemed to her parents to be one fluid
action.
“You will not lay a hand on my guest in my home.” Mirane‟s frozen voice
gave Larken more reason to fear her. She removed her hand and he stayed
where he was, constrained by fear, angry and humiliation.
“Who is this?” Larken pointed to me. Slo, I walked over to him and stood
at his knees looking down on him. I glamoured a little more height and size than
I, naturally, possessed. This man was no rival, he was not worth Mirane‟s
meticulous efforts to maintain his pride.
“My name is Prince Jimareteal, Xylvan.” Larken seethed with anger, his
body vibrated with rage. Venomous thoughts spiked in his mind unsaid by
some miracle. I did not recoil. I stood taller.
“Please leave our home, Larken.” Jillhue said this without regret. He had
now seen enough, more than enough. “You will receive your dissolvement
paper today. Tomorrow I shall post it and we shall begin to assemble the formal
ceremony. In three days this shall be over.”
“Papa.” Larken bleached at Jillhue‟s announcement.
“Consider yourself no longer a member of this family.”
Larken stood and stumbled to the door. “You cannot mean this.”
“Please, Larken,” her father‟s voice was suddenly gentle and he reached
out to hold the door for Larken. Jillhue put his hand on Larken‟s shoulder, “Do
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not make me choose between you and my child.” Larken looked back at me and
I could feel the heat of his hatred us. Then he left quietly.
“Father,” Mirane‟s eyes were wide and she could hardly believe what he
had done. She did not want to say he had gone too far. This was the start of
something dangerous.
“It is done.” Her father was sad to lose Larken who had been a friend to
him and had helped him shoulder the burden of his shame and grief. He missed
that Larken and not the Larken who came to his steps to threaten his daughter.
Certainly, if Larken proves himself more hospitable and kind he will return to
Jillhue‟s good graces and will be welcome at his hearth again. “Go back to sleep,
its over.”
“No, we are up.” Mirane went to the kitchen and I followed. No one was
hungry but they prepared a small meal for Jillhue to take with him to his
workshop. No one spoke and a silence hung on the house all morning.
By afternoon, however, a sly humor had begun to creep into the house
again. Mirane and I trained in the yard. She, using her brutal style of attack and
I with my desperate method of defense. A few curious onlookers stood nearby
so Mirane took the opportunity to discuss with me all of the nearby objects that
could be used for defensive or offensive maneuvers. I had had this discussion
with her, probably fifty other times. She like to have it in common rooms, in
temples,weddings, namings, or really any where she was that there were people
gathered around her.
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After we trained and pointed out the eighteen ways a garden hoe can
maim an enemy, we rested on the back steps. Winter had always been relaxed
for us. It was always when I could enjoy her humor, her unintended glances, or
peace; this winter especially so. She was almost completely unguarded. Her
laughter came quickly and naturally, her smile, decidedly more genuine. She
even seemed, if I might say, young. We were together and we were enjoying
being together, not partners on a missions, but friends.
That evening the events of the morning were all but forgotten. Sarah
made a delicious meal and afterwards we sat on Mirane‟s parent‟s comfortable
furniture and watched the crackling fire; a thoroughly enjoyable way to pass an
evening. I wondered why the Sian never did that, but then, again, perhaps they
did when they got older, I remembered thinking.
“Mira,” Jillhue said as if he suddenly remembered something. “Would
you be willing to play the…”
“Mirane looked up, knowing where he was going with that thought. I
haven‟t in over a decade. I haven‟t even touched one.”
“What is it?” I was curious.
“She was a brilliant Caladesh player.” Jillhue said proudly, proud of her,
proud that he could tell me something I did not know. “Had she not gotten
married, I wanted to send her to music school.”
“You never said that to me.” Sarah looked up, disappointed, herself, as if
she were to blame.
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“When a man has a child as gifted as this, he wants everything for her.”
Jillhue said. I felt such a profound sense of loss emanating from him. She was
his favorite child taken, she was his greatest achievement, destroyed and the
memory of what she had been, what she could have been was raw in him. I
returned to him, images of her heroics, of lives she ahd saved, little children she
had saved. He looked at me, his eyes filled with untold pain and untold thanks.
He gave me a strange smile to say that he did not understand how, but he had
received my gift. Then he turned back to his daughter. “Would you try? I still
have your instrument.” Jillhue rose from his seat and went to one of the storage
benches on the other side of the room. He withdrew a tiny instrument that
looked like a long thin cylinder with a series of valves and buttons. He handed it
to her with hope and reverence.
Mirane took the sweet little instrument to her mouth and gave a tentative
trial blow. The air pushed through the Calendesh with a pure sweet base.
Mirane pulled it away from her lips and looked at it. She wrapped her fingers
around it and loosened the valves and her own joints, letting however many
years of practice return to her fingers. She drew the instrument up once more
and played a simple, elegant melody. Her talent and technique mesmerized me.
Her parents watched her with pride. Despite the beauty of it, I could hardly
reconcile the strangness of it, as if I had just seen my mother walking on her
hands, or flying for that matter. Something so extraordinary was happening that
I could not quite believe it. I could have listened to her play all night. I leaned
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back in my chair and closed my eyes, my greatest fear was that the song would
end and the silence would be deathly. Instead, a harsh knocking at the door
interrupted the sweet song. We all sat up and Mirane broke off the music
abruptly.
“Are you expecting anyone?” Jillhue asked, to no one in particular.
“Who knocks?” Sarah replied, by way of response, “All the kids have
keys.”
Jillhue stood and went to the door. We could not see who was out there,
from where we three stood, but we stood still and listened. “How can I help you
tonight?” Jillhue asked.
“I‟m here on business.” The voice said. Mirane stood up and rushed to
the door.
“What is it?” Mirane was poised to fight.
“May I come in?” The man asked.
“Of course.” Mirane and Jillhue replied together and then stepped aside
for the visitors to enter.
A large very large, well-dressed man entered with three younger copies
behind him. He looked around the room and saw me. He nodded his head and
then looked back and forth between Mirane and her father. He did not speak
and he avoided meeting anyone‟s eyes.
“What is it, Kyltan?” Mirane did not want to wait for him. He looked
down at his feet.
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“As I said, I am here on business. I take no pleasure in carrying out this
duty.” He briefly looked up and then to the ground again. He was decidedly
nervous, his entire mind and body reverberated it. “There is no way to say it but
to say it. I spent a considereable amount of time today with Larken Damal. He
has formally pressed charges against Mirane for adultery.” Sarah gasped with
utter horror.
“Certainly…” Jillhue started to speak but he said nothing.
“He came this morning, he would not accept the papers.” Mirane said. I
went to take them from the mantel.
“It would not have done any good. He is charging from the first.”
“And what man is the first?” Mirane narrowed her eyes and dared Kyltan
to name the man. I had seen Mirane‟s face change from beauty to danger many
times but never had I seen such ferocity in it. Enemies are easy to hate and
desire a certain amount of hatred and scorn before they can be dispatched. But
for Mirane, a friend that had betrayed her, the vein runs deeper, it plunged to
someplace in her gut and elicited from her a horrible fury which she revealed
only in her eyes. A long tense moment set between them.
“Larken need not identify individuals to press his case. He has sufficient
evidence to proceed with a trial.”
“And you are going to arrest me.” Mirane challenged him. Although, I
now stood directly behind her, I did not touch her. Every muscle in her body
was taut to the breaking point.
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“You are not taking my daughter!” Sarah erupted as if she had been
bracing for this inevitability ever since Mirane reappeared.
“Sarah, please, I have no…”Kyltan tried to calm the fierce Sarah.
“No sense, no compassion, no right.” Sarah spewed her accusations
through teary eyes and failing voice.
“Sarah, Jillhue, Mirane‟s return has meant a great deal to me. I regret,
more than you know that she was taken, that I could not find her, that I could not
save her, that I do not stand here granting her her lawful dissolvement and
celebrating with you all. But the law has put me in this position, your inactions
have put me here and the only thing that can be done about this is to do this by
that law. Mirane Damaskoi you are, hereby, under arrest for a charge of
adultery. Prince Xylvan you are, hereby, under arrest for unlawful relations with
Mirane Damaskaya. We are here to escort you both to the accommodations
prepared for you above the common room to await your trial in the morning.
“Then arrest me.” Mirane said flatly. She changed her stance and I stood
beside her trying to look dangerous. Kyltan‟s three sons were not looking
forward to trying to take us by force.
“Having said that,” Kyltan started again. “I am executing this warrant
exclusively under the law. I‟ve no desire to forcefully take either of you. At this
point my intention is to give Larken a fair trial in the mornig and to give you a
public hearing of defense. This town has been lining up behind one of you or
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another, rampant with half-truths, gossips, and moral speculating. Tomorrow
we will see the end of this.”
“The end of this, you‟ll see my daughter on a stake to „see the end of
this‟.”
“Sarah, I have no such desire.” Kyltan turned his gaze back to us. “Will
you submit to arrest?” Kyltan met Mirane‟s eyes and held them for several long
seconds.”
“I will have an opportunity speak to the village?” Mirane asked, her face
betraying her busy thoughtful mind.
“Yes.” Kyltan replied meeting her gaze.
“What are you doing?” Sarah grasped Mirane‟s sleeve, tugging her
towards her.
Mirane did not look at her but turned to me. “Xylvan, I do believe we are
under arrest.” I looked at her, sure she wished me to submit to this. I was a law-
abiding person with a natural respect for authority, yet, I could not fathom
allowing them to lock us up and try us.
I looked at the men just as Mirane had, trying to decipher the
configuration of their faces and the integrity of their eyes and thereby discover
their earnestness and trustworthiness. Such an effort could have taken a very
long time and never met with any success. Instead of pursuing it, I scanned their
minds. Each was ready to best us and hope that we submitted quietly so they
not be defeated, or worse. These men had combined their memories of Mirane as
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a student with what they had read of us and were not certain they could best her
or me. Kyltan‟s thoughts seethed with Larken‟s hatred and humiliation, they
combated his love of the law with his respect and regret for Mirane, and they
prayed for a civilized resolution. He looked to us to be that civilized ending, that
answer to his conflict. He intended to try us and by trying us, exonerate us.
Beneath his romantic thoughts was the one frightening ideas this it might not
work, that the town would turn against him and, again, we would be his
solution. “We are willing to accompany you,” I said holding Kyltan‟s gaze.
The six of us walked silently across the dark village. Kyltan led the way,
and his sons encircled us. I reached for her hand and she gave it. It was warmth
against the freezing night. All around us the smell of fires and the glow of
yellow windows reminded us of home and of family, and of how we were
decidedly outside of both.
At the commonhouse a crew of men I had not met were moving the tables
and the chairs, creating a primitive court. Mirane walked through with all eyes
on her. She looked back at them with an unveiled challenge. Some looked away
sooner than others. The things she had seen and done had long ago taught her to
disregard the moral postulating of others. She lived by her own code and her
own faith. She answered to God alone. She raised her chin and shook out her
long hair sending chestnut ripples through it. Her face let them know, they were
not fit to stand in judgement of her.
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One man approached us; hatred filled his mind. “Lord Kyltan, shall we
erect the pyre?” Kyltan flashed him a dangerous look but it was Mirane who
spoke. She slipped out of our escort and took the man by the neck.
“You erect a pyre for me. I‟ll nail your cowardly, dastardly, shriveled
balls to it and set it alight.” I helped her colorful words strike their intended fear
with this man. Already his responses were dying on his tongue. Kyltan‟s sons
were trying to pull her off but her lock on the man‟s throat and her own solid
strength made her unmovable until she chose to move.
Kyltan looked at us in fear for the first time. He had imagined Mirane as
educated in his own house, stolen, and in that time, annealed into a righteous
fighter, campaigning for safety and defense on the western front. He had cast
her as the virtuous heroine aloft on pedestals. He saw, then, she was not this, she
had been pounded into a warrior and virtuous defensive traits had been equally
bronzed into her character as those dangerous, fierce and frightening qualities I
had seen my first day.
“Please take us to our room. “Mirane said and silently we all walked
upstairs. The room itself was an ordinary commonhouse room. The bed
occupied the center of the room and, besides a small table and chair, was the
primary furnishing.
“My sons will each take shifts outside your door that you may sleep
tonight. Although, I will be serving as the moderator in tomorrow‟s proceeding I
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cannot guarantee what will actually happen. “ Kyltan had never said anything
more true. “I shall leave you both, tonight, to work out your strategy.”
“Thank you.” Mirane said as he turned. “ Oh yes, Kyltan, regardless of
what might happen to me, I must make you aware that Prince Xylvan has
diplomatic immunity. He will walk away.”
“Yes, Mirane, I am aware. And Mirane, you will both walk away.”
Kyltan closed the door behind him and left us alone.
“And so,” I asked, “May I presume you have a reason and a strategy for
this detour.” I was angry. Mirane walked over to me and touched my arm. Her
forehead was so close to my lips, I could smell her hair.
“Xylvan, do you not see what an opportunity this is?” She stroked my
arm and then my chest. “Everything I have to accomplish here can be
accomplished with one pass.”
“You intended to be arrested and I followed to be declared your whore.” I
snapped.
She continued to stroke me until I relaxed my tense body. She led me
over to sit on the bed and then closely against me. “This trial, if we play this
properly will grant my dissolvement, it will remind the village of the danger it is
in, it will focus their minds on defense, it will quell the gossip that follows me
and, ultimately, it will clear our names.”
“It can do all that?”
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“There is the chance, there,” she replied. “You and I could bust out of
here right now, we‟ve escaped more difficult situations, but then, I would have
none of those victories. I would still be married to Larken and none of us would
be free to marry again. I would lose the family I have just refound, this village
would be at just the same level of danger and my name, your name will be
destroyed here. How would we continue our work with these charges over our
heads?”
I wanted to say, let us go to Sian. The events in this backwater-nowhere
would be inconsequential there. But she was right, this needed to be done, and it
would be done with a trial.
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Adultery
Neither of us had gotten any sleep and by morning the entire village knew
what had happened. Their opinions ran the gamut from outrage to
righteousness. Mirane‟s supporters came from places she did not know and her
detractors from her own family. The village was waiting outside when the sun
came up and Mirane could see them shivering as they waited for the opportunity
to see her face her crimes.
“Are you up for this today?” I asked as she brushed her skirt clean of dust
and stood to stretch.
“I am.” She looked directly into my eyes as she stretched her long
cramped arms to the low ceiling.
“And what are we going to do?”
“Kyltan is a man of the law, I believe that this will be our opportunity. If
it is not, if the town turns against us, well then, I do not know. You create an
illusion of us running out the back door and while they chase us down and
evacuate the building, we stay in one place and sneak out later.”
“Is that your plan or your perverse sense of humor?” I reached out to
touch her stomach. Beneath the tightly pleated bodice her body was solid
muscle.
“Xylvan, have you not learned, when all of your plans fail, all you have is
your perverse sense of humor.”
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“That may have been the most revealing thing you have ever said.”
“Well, keep your eyes open today, who knows what you‟ll learn.”
Just then the lock jiggled and the door opened.
The Lord‟s sons were there to escort us downstairs. They were wordless.
They emerged in the common room to see that most of the village had been
admitted. Kyltan sat at the front and there was a place to the right of him where
they would sit. At the tables sat her family closest to her. She knew they had
drawn their lines in the sand. Her parents, Sabrine and Gyan sat close to the
right of the room to be close to them. At the far end were Theabe and her
brothers‟ wives. Her brothers were nowhere to be seen. Larken was on the left
side of the room.
I scanned the thoughts of some of the villagers and picked up a general
consensus. I intrigued them. They were there just as much to see me as to see
Mirane. When they saw me they knew that she had fornicated with me. They all
had a wide range of images that they unknowingly broadcast at me. Most were
anxious about this trial, if she were to be killed for being with me they could
reluctantly approve of it but they had gotten word of previous charges.
“Settle.” Kyltan had spent an extraordinarily restless night and he was not
prepared to be gentle or patient with this village. He turned to us and spoke
more kindly, “Please sit.” We complied and he began to list the charges.
“Mirane, you are accused of having adulterous and lascivious relations with men
not your husband while in the company of the western enemy. You have
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admitted to having three other relationships with men after you left them
including the man seated with you. Because family is the very foundation of the
way we live, because adultery is not tolerated in our society, these charges are so
grave and so serious, you must be made aware that they carry with them the
price of your life. Do you understand these charges, you will have a chance to
defend yourself shortly?”
“I understand these charges.” Mirane‟s voice had neither humor nor
warmth.
“Xylvan, you are accused of fornicating with this woman, the wife of
another man. This conviction also carries the price of your life. Do you
understand this charge, you will have a chance to defend yourself?”
“I understand.” I answered, calmly, taking Mirane‟s lead.
“I have every intention of concluding this hearing today.” Kyltan did not
want this to carry on and he had no intention of putting us to death. “It is within
my rights and responsibilities to hear testimony and to pass judgment both
within the written law and the spirit of the law. Do you understand? I am also
your arbiter of justice, my verdict must be respected by this community or I shall
dismiss these charges immediately.” Kyltan addressed the audience but did not
give them a chance to answer. “The accuser, Larken Damask, shall testify first.”
Larken stood and gave testimony to all he knew.
“Ten years ago I came to this village, I was just a boy, a young man. I
came with my father, we had been traveling through all the villages in the south,
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but there was something different about Krahan. Within moments of arriving, I
met Sarah. She bought one of my most elaborate pitchers and asked me to hold
it. My father winked at me, this had happened before.” Larken smiled and
shuffled his feet. “She disappeared for just under half a mark. When she
returned a perfectly ordinary encounter became extraordinary. Standing beside
my mother-in-law, stood Mirane, and I knew she would be my wife. Perhaps
some of you remember my wife when she was a young woman. She was
beautiful. She was incredible.”
Although I was not projecting his words, I was certainly reading them
from his mind. She was very beautiful. Her long chestnut hair was similar to
how it was that day but far more wild with gently wisps. She was tall and thin
but her body was more curves than lean. Her dress was cinched tightly at the
waist and the bosom so her young breasts rose up from the fine fabric. She was
everything about herself but innocent, unscarred, optimistic and soft. She was
the picture of Gryth beauty. There was a murmur of consensus from the crowd.
“That night, despite my father‟s advice to the contrary, I began to court
her. She prepared the most delicious meal that night for her family, her cooking
so like her mother‟s.” I did not laugh and Mirane did not flinch to the untruth of
it. “I remember so clearly the feelings that flickered between us, smiles and
glances. I loved her. She accepted my proposal. Many of you were at that
wedding. You saw us wed, legally.” The villagers again murmured. “I need not
say what there is in the bond between a man and a woman on the night of their
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wedding. I need not tell you what happens then, the beginning of a lifetime
love.” Larken paused.
“I was more asleep and content than I had ever been before or since when
Mirane woke me. Our building, this building was on fire. She roused me
throwing our cloaks over our bodies before leaving. Mirane wore only the
nightdress Gyan had made for her and out we went. All around us our friends
and family were in chaos, armed men on horses were slicing through us. The
village had exploded. Mirane was passing me burning wood to defend us from
them until something hit me in the head and I went down.
When I woke the raiders were gone, thirteen members of our village were
gone including my new bride. My father and hers broke the news to me gently
but you all know how I grieved. That morning I left with the men to follow the
raiders. How it is after two weeks of tracking and searching and running and
riding that we did not find them, as if they had disappeared into thin air, I do not
know. I wished to hell I did. Exhausted and out of options I returned to the
village and grieved. Many of you told me to forget her. Jillhue, a man I now
called my father, gave me dissolvement papers. But I had married her, I loved
her, I grieved her and if there were any chance that she were alive I would not
dissolve my marriage to her.” Larken stopped for a moment and wiped his face.
Tears and sweat had covered it. I felt sick with him, so strong was his pain.
“My father strongly suggested I leave with him and forget her but I did
not. I set up shop in this destroyed village. I helped rebuild. I tried to be a good
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son to my wife‟s family and I waited. Almost ten years, ten sweaven years! I
waited and loved and remembered and protected her memory.
“So what choice is there for me, she returns and rejects me. She returns
and brings a new man, an alien stranger man to take my place. She swove the
men who took her, she took other lovers and she brings to my home
sweaven…”Larken did not finish his sentence. We were all frozen by his ranting
and his screaming and unable to step in to stop him. Only when he fell to the
ground on his knees weeping did any of us move.
I began to truly believe that we would not escape this. I feared that we
would be fighting our way out of this village and I was not convinced that
Mirane would be able to kill these people. Larken‟s testimony, I knew,
convinced several in the village as to our guilt.
“Mirane Damaskaya do you have any questions from this witness?”
Kyltan asked.
“I do not.” I looked at her but said nothing.
After Larken several others stepped forward to testify. Kyltan dismissed
them. He tried to dismiss Drayan but Larken insisted he had the most relevant
evidence. “If his story is to be included in my decision then he shall tell it. Is he
here?”
“Yes.” The man stood up and was trembling.
“Come to the front.”
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“Yes, constable.”
“You will be required to tell the truth and Mirane will have a chance to
ask you questions if necessary. You will answer all honestly.”
“Yes sir.”
“State your name.”
“I am Drayan Rylk.”
The man told his story the very same way that he had told Larken. I
listened and felt sorry for the torture he had endured. He said that he had seen
Mirane dance on one occasion and on two others having sex with men from the
raiding mission. I watched Mirane throughout the telling and wished that I
could touch her mind to comfort her. She looked forward and said nothing, her
face was an icy countenance. She said nothing. No hint of pain touched her
perfect mask of composure. When he was done he stood and waited for Mirane
to tear him to pieces.
Mirane stood. She had considered several questions and wondered how
best to preserve his dignity. All her strategies were now focused on preserving
her life and mine. “She did not look at the villagers or her family. “You were
taken with me?” she asked.
“Yes, that same night.”
“I do not remember seeing you.” The man looked stunned. “It does not
matter though because I do not need to know that to know what you went
through.” Mirane paused and began to unlace her dress. “You were burned and
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you were stabbed with sticks that were so hot you thought you would scream
out?”
“Yes.”
“You still bear those marks, do you not?”
“Yes,” His voice was soft, ashamed.
“You were cut and you learned what they wanted you to, yes?”
“I was burned and cut. Yes”
“Did you speak their language?‟
“No.”
“Did they order you to work?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know what they wanted you to do?”
“Yes.”
“How?‟
“If I did it wrong I felt a blade or a whip.” The man trembled and Mirane‟s
heart was cold to him. He knew what it was all about and he had said these
things about her.
She finished unlacing the top of her dress and slowly began to pull it off
her shoulders. “How long were you with them?” Listen closely, she had told
me, who knows what you‟ll learn. I knew those scars and now I knew those
wounds.
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“A couple of moons.” He was distinctly uncomfortable as Mirane
disrobed in front of him. Those sitting in the court were equally discomforted
but were as persuaded by her argument as they had been with her husband‟s.
“You learned quickly though?”
“Yes.”
“What did you do for them?”
“Anything they asked.”
She dropped her dress to the ground and revealed the network of criss-
crossed scars that told the story more clearly than anyone had wanted it said. “I
learned slowly. I held onto what I could of my dignity and my modesty.”
Mirane turned around to show that those same scars covered equally front and
back, shoulders to ankles. I was familiar and comfortable with them as a part of
her physicality. Those in the assembly gasped. I looked to her family, her
mother had buried her face in her hands and was weeping. Her father‟s face was
solidly looking at her, taking inventory of each mark to emblazon it upon his
own soul. His jaw was locked against a single show of emotion, he knew that
others were looking at him, desperate for him to react. He refused. He refused
to be ashamed of her. He refused to look away. Mirane turned back to her
witness, her bare back, buttocks and legs to the audience.
“How did you escape?”
“I do not remember. I ran.” The man was clearly unsure.
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“You were not shackled to a ring in the floor?” Mirane gestured to the
scars at her ankles, there scars banded around her bones again and again. I
shook there in my seat. I was riveted by her performance there but slowly I
knew it was the truth I had been waiting for. I had never formed the thought in
my mind, I had brushed away suspicions. She had been a sex slave. More
horrible than being married, such was her relief.
“No.” The man stood completely shaken. “I‟m so sorry.” Now, several
members of the audience were crying.
“You may sit.” Kyltan felt such a rage towards Larken. Mirane slowly
pulled on her dress and pulled the laces back together so that she seemed before
them completely modest. She stood to the side and watched Kyltan.
“This does not explain why she did not come back and why she took these
other men to her bed.” Larken‟s shouting did little to help him win sympathy.
“Do you have proof that she has taken other lovers?”
“Sabrine said.” Larken raved.
“That is not proof.” Kyltan was veritably pressing him with his heavy
gaze.
“She confessed it to our sister, Sabrine.”
“Sabrine, is this true?” Kyltan asked. Sabrine looked away but answered.
She did not want to be her sister‟s betrayer.
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“She told me that Xylvan wished to marry her.” Sabrine felt this was the
best of what she could tell. Kyltan did not press he was sure that Mirane had
taken me as a lover and he did not need Sabrine to testify to that.
“And other lovers?”
“Only her confession.” Larken answered sadly. “When she told me that
she had known other men and that she would not be a wife to me.”
“Before we hear Mirane‟s defense I think it appropriate that Xylvan give
his testimony. Are you prepared to answer my questions?” I was not. My whole
world had just shifted. My heart was broken. Mirane had not yet looked at me.
I could not show it. Mirane‟s fears would not find fertile ground in my heart.
“Yes sir.” I cast him a look that said clearly, do not play games with me.
“How long have you been Mirane‟s partner?”
“Five years.”
“Have you ever been to Krahan before?”
“No, not until I joined her here.” I replied.
“Where were you born?”
“Queensrealm Tearisian Sian.”
“Did Mirane ever tell you she had been married for one night and stolen
on that same night.”
“No.”
“Did she tell you she was married?” Larken shouted across the room but
one of Kyltan‟s sons quieted him and pushed him firmly into his seat.
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“Did you take her to your own bed? Please answer precisely.” Kyltan was
broadcasting: please never have taken her to your own bed, in Sian.
“No.” I answered his strange question, fighting my instinct to say nothing
more.
“Did you ask her to marry you?”
“Yes, but she declined.”
“Did she say why?”
“No.” These people did not know her at all.
“Is there anything else you would like to add?” I scanned his mind and I
knew immediately that this man had no intention of convicting us. This was for
the town.
“No.”
“Very well, then.”
“Mirane?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you come here?”
“I found a note on a wall in Scolar from Larken to return. I came to see
my family and to dissolve my marriage.”
“Why did you not do it sooner?”
“Before I came here, I did not even know he was alive and unmarried and
since because I was hoping he would realize it on his own. I wanted to spare his
feelings.”
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“His feelings?”
“His dignity.” Mirane said
“Then we shall adjourn for the day and I shall give my decision
tomorrow.”
“Ask her if she was with him!” Larken screamed. Mirane and I were
escorted back to our room. Neither of us saw Kyltan‟s boys wrestle Larken to the
ground or Kyltan approach him and tell him he had received what he had asked
for within the parameters of the written law.
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Attack
“He‟s going to release us tomorrow.” I said once we were locked inside
the room, again.
“I guessed as much, that was merely a show trial.” She fell back on the
bed and closed her eyes for a moment.
“And you gave them a show.”
Mirane sat up and looked at me, searching for a hint as to my meaning,
suspicious.
“I do not disparage you, Mirane, no.” I reached out and held her.
“This is what I do, this is the vow I made before God, and you know that.”
“Your vow was that no one would experience this, they would be
educated and prepared.”
“These people, this village that raised me, that saw me grow and wed, this
village is putting you and I on trial. It will take more than just taking them into a
meeting hall and pointing out the escape routes.” Mirane smiled at her joke.
“When you and I go into a village we make an impression, you and I, for what
we do and what they see. Here, they remember me as a something between a
little girl and a depraved whore. Either way, I am not making an impression that
will save their lives.”
“This is not just any village.”
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“I know that. I felt that that was the best way to make that impression, to
get their attention to make my case in this insane trial.” Mirane paced the room.
“You made an impression,” I said.
“My parents?” Mirane bit her lip.
“Your father, particularly.”
“He needed to know these things.”
“I did not know these things.”
“Of course, you did.” Mirane said. But I do not believe I did, not until
later, much later. Mirane looked at me with sadness and fatigue in her face. In
her eyes it was clear that she would not speak of this more.
“No, I did not.” I wanted her to know that I had never thought of her that
way.
“And now you do.” Her eyes were downcast and she walked to the
window.
“Will we ever speak of it?”
“What more would you know?”
“I would want to lessen your burden, to carry this alone…”
“It is mine to carry.”
“Damn it.” I swore low and took a seat. It was a long time before either of
us said another word. This was the secret and now it was known there would be
no more spoken of it. I needed more. I knew I would need to wait.
“So what do we do?” I finally spoke, changing the subject.
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“We just stay until tomorrow.”
“That is all?”
“That is all.” Mirane sat down on the bed and I joined her.
“Do you think they‟ll bother us until then?” I leaned in and kissed her.
“I do not know. But that would be something.” Mirane laughed aloud
taking me into her arms. “So when we go to Sian, do you think that we‟ll be
arrested?”
“I do not think so,” I said absently as I kissed her, “what, and when are we
going to Sian?” She was smiling.
“After this fiasco, we will go next winter.”
“I love you.” I embraced her and pushed her to the bed. “So what did you
say you were thinking.
“Well, what if this does not go our way?” Mirane asked.
“I do not even want to think about it.”
“Can you imagine what will happen? A Prince of Sian killed for
pummeling a village wench. How Sian history would record that.”
I tried not to laugh. “I have no intention of dying in this town you call
home.”
“I have no intention of letting you.” She smiled broadly with that familiar
look of desire in her face.
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Later, long after the night had filled the forest and had blanketed the
village, Mirane woke up with a feeling of dread and alertness. She remained in
the narrow bed by the wall and she lay perfectly still. Her senses were
completely aware and sharp. She sat up quietly and went to the window. In the
forest she saw dark figures moving slowly. She woke me and I knew
immediately to keep silent. I stood, dressed and went to the window and saw
the same figures. There were too many to count.
“Who are they?” I turned and asked but by her face I knew exactly who
they were. “Darung.”
“I‟ve come full circle in this village.” She said as she searched the room for
anything that could be used as a weapon. “It is going to kill us one way or
another.”
I began to scan their minds to pick up the most superficial of their desires.
They were starving and cold, exhausted and fearful. They believed that this
village would have enough for them to take back to their families and they were
ready to kill for it. I sensed over fifty adult male minds approaching.
“We are the first building and we are most likely the only ones who know
yet.” Mirane set her battle face and voice in place.
“Here, use this to pry the door.” She broke the bed at the joint and
handed me a board.
One of Kyltan‟s sons had his blade raised to us, “Stop!”
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Mirane steeled her jaw and looked at him with such cool, clear, ferocity
that he looked to her. “You will stand down,” Mirane gave him directions like
he was one of her own soldiers and he responded. “Look out that window. Do
you see those men?” He nodded. “They are going to try to kill us all.”
Mirane reached and took his sword. “Follow me.”
The three of us went down the stairs and the young man broke away to
wake his father. Mirane knew that we did not have a long. I had fear in my
belly. I remember feeling sick with it. I hated fighting.
“Xylvan,” Mirane took each of my arms in her hands and looked me in the
eye. “We have been teaching and practicing this for years. This is the time
anything we have ever done is going to matter, really matter. This is our test.
This is my home. Any moment houses will be set ablaze and chaos will break.”
“I have a plan.” I said.
“Do it.” She looked at me with such confidence. “Please, first go to
Sabrine‟s and wake them. Tell them to escape. I will find them when it is safe.” I
went and let Mirane go to her parent‟s where her sword was. “Here take this.”
I held the blade she had taken from the young man and ran to Sabrine‟s
house. I found the door open and burst through. I found them in their beds and
shook them. I gave them a mental image of what was happening, it was so much
faster than explaining. I watched them leave and followed their evacuation as I
returned to Mirane. She had her sword and she was going to the center of the
village. Her father was nearby and he ran to the small temple to sound the
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alarm. Mirane and I crept back to the common house and turned the corner just
in time to see a dozen mounted raiders burnishing torches and holding thick
blades.
I opened up a dual-styled illusion, both in their minds and outside, of a
chasm for them to fall into. I made it clear for the horses and their riders. Those
first riders stumbled into the deep hole before they knew what they were not
seeing. I built a wall of fire for the others and they paused believing they could
feel the heat on their faces. Others continued to come. They went around the
illusionary flame. By now the alarm was ringing and disoriented villagers were
fleeing their homes. Small children were leading them away from the center and
into the woods. Mirane knew that the raiders would look there, too, if she did
not destroy them.
She found that one of the horses had stood and wandered through the
flame. She grabbed it by the neck and flung herself up on its back. Her sword
was held high above her head and rode hard into the crowd of them. She sliced
through their unarmored bodies so easily. She had done this before. Blood
splashed across her face and her clothes.
Several saw what she had done and turned their attention to her. I saw
them swing clumsy swords at her. Immediately, I created a dozen illusionary
Miranes to fight them. They splintered away to fight them. Their tired minds
were easily molded to believe these illusions and I found that I was able to bring
most of them into the fold. I targeted the leaders and those closest to them, for
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their pleasure I set all the houses of the village ablaze. Some of the invaders
stopped dead in their tracks and tried to make sense of it. I wanted them to see
illusions of their comrades down on the ground but I did not wish to stretch their
credibility. Naturally, once one, otherwise unexplainable, occurrence is
discredited the others may be as well.
While I did this, Mirane, the real Mirane continued to kill these Darung.
She had lost count of the bodies she sliced open and that she forced this poor
animal to trample. She kept a sideways glance on the villagers to see that some
of them believed their homes were on fire and others could not imagine what
they had seen. She had lost track of me and hoped that I had lit those fires, she
wished she knew for sure.
The sky was just showing signs of brightening and Mirane wondered how
many hours or mere minutes she had fought. Her first opponents had fallen in
the first moments of battle and others since had come when Xylvan had led them
to corners and paralyzed their minds. She was still amazed that their comrades
had not decided to retreat. As her training and instincts governed her motions
her brilliant mind kept close watch on those around her. The children and wives
of the villagers were in hiding at this point. The men who felt they could fight
had joined us and were using everything they could put their hands on to fight
of the Darung. Kyltan and his sons, among the few genuinely armed had taken
down some of them as well. It seemed that we would be done with the battle
soon.
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“Gruh akh rent.” Screamed one and Mirane turned to see which man was
marked for death. I saw her face ashen before I saw that two of the Darung had
singled me out. Two raiders had backed me up to one of the burning houses.
They did not know how I was doing it but they knew, without a doubt, that if
they could defeat me that they could turn this around for themselves.
Mirane rode up behind them and sliced one of them before the other
turned to her. “Tryiz Skat?” her voice was icy and the man could hardly believe
she had spoken, particularly that she had spoken in his own language, I could
read through him that she asked him if he wanted to live. She was completely
sluiced with blood and he was sickened to realize it was not hers, it was that of
his fallen comrades and that it would soon be of his, too.
I took the sword he had not let go of and crashed it into the man‟s back.
As he fell dying I picked up from his mind his last few thoughts. All concerned
the tale of a massacred city.
“How many of the dead are real” Mirane asked me as she touched my
shoulder.
“All,” I replied looking the back of her horse to a mounted man riding on
us very hard. His beast rode beneath him, his legs wrapped around its muscled
body. The Darung attacker had a long bow in his hands, an arrow already
notched in place and aimed at Mirane. He had confidence in his ability. He had
her. My eyes went, in an instant from him to her and back again. Before I could
think of anything to do, I slapped her horse and it startled forward. The arrow
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sliced through the air, missing its target and flying over my head. Mirane heard
it hiss and turned back to see me. She smiled such a look of love and victory.
And in that fraction of time, that sliver of a second neither of us saw the
second arrow leave the bow of the attacker. It was all in an instant that Mirane
smiled at me and then turned her ride towards the Darung but that sister arrow
left the bow before she could reach him. I felt the shaft go through my abdomen
and heard it emerge on the other side. Mirane‟s face bleached beneath the sheath
of blood and she turned again on the man attacker. The man had loaded a third
arrow and Mirane was galloping hard towards him. Her blade was high and she
was screaming for blood. The bow, arrow and head fell to the ground with a
solid thud before his body crumbled.
The fires began to disappear and everyone could now see that they had
not been real at all. Villagers that had stood in the center awaiting the slaughter
disappeared in the same way. I was not able to keep this up. I felt my body
losing more and more blood each moment I stood. I stumbled to the ground.
The sky was brighter even now and she could see around her who stood. There
were not many left and the man she had just decapitated, apparently, was a
leader to them. She rode to the remaining men and paused the beast in front of
them.
“None of you will live.” She said and they began to run. The adrenaline
ran hotter in her veins than her own blood. She sliced them down like so much
tall grass and when the sun burned on the treetops so many were dead. She
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stopped and looked far to the west. Her heart was still pumping with bloodlust
but she did not ride after them.
The villagers started to approach her to talk her down from the animal.
The blood on her face frightened them. “Find your children and account for
your families.” She ordered and noted that the village had taken miraculously
little damage and except for the strewn bodies, it might not have been more than
a winter storm. She scanned the village for any other invaders and then
dismounted. She went directly to me. There would be time to follow the
escapees and kill them later, she thought.
When she got to me, I was barely able move. “Xyl?” She kneeled beside
me and kissed my mouth.
“I‟m alright.” I offered
“You are cold, are you dizzy?”
“No,” I answered but she did not believe me. She forced me to open my
eyes and looked at them wondering what she should see there, they were
unchanged and unrevealing. She rolled me over to my side and examined the
wound. The Darung arrow had cut completely through me. If it had hit a vital
organ, I would need the best Sian healer and even then, I probably would not
have survived the night.
“This is going to hurt,” she said. She may have torn a piece of her own
clothing to apply to the wound but there was not a single unblood soaked inch of
her. “Take off your shirt!” I heard her growl at someone, “now!”
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“Hurt?” I groaned, I was barely holding onto consciousness.
“Yes.” She then, in one quick motion broke the arrowhead off. With that
gone she pulled the shaft out of me. As she had expected, blood soaked the
cloth. Unfazed, she pushed it harder against my back. I moaned and clenched
my teeth. Mirane felt my blood all over her hands. She pressed against the front
of the wound with her hand as if she could force the blood to stay in my veins.
“This is not right, you must stay safe, that is all that is asked of you,” I had never
been injured like this. She hurt for me. She thought, her own gut was twisted
and any thought she had of chasing the deserters had escaped her. Her only
concern was for me. I knew that even as my blood pressure dropped and I lost
consciousness.
Even more tentatively, a few of the villagers began to approach us. No
one had been killed. Between what the villagers saw during the battle and what
they saw now they could barely reconcile how it was they were unharmed. But
they did know why and they were, for a time, indebted. When Mirane could see
them out of the corner her eye she lowered me to the ground and slowly reached
for her blade. She was still full of bloodlust and she did not trust them.
“Mirane, honey,” it was Sabrine‟s voice cooing at her sister. Knowing
Sabrine, as I have come to know her, I know that it was no small thing for her to
approach Mirane on that morning. Her hair, clothes and face were covered with
blood. Mirane‟s sword was sluiced with the blood and flesh of the enemy. But it
was her eyes that were too wide, too focused on the far off enemy that struck the
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most fear into Sabrine‟s heart. But she knew she must ignore the sword and
avoid her sister‟s horrifying gaze and approach. Mirane gave her a warning
glance but let her proceed. “We need to get him to the safest place and bind that
up.” Sabrine said this slowly and softly. Her voice was filled with love, pure and
warm.
“Do it.” Mirane said through gritted teeth.
“Can we move him?” Sabrine was asking permission. Two men behind
her had a blanket; they were waiting for Mirane‟s agreement. Without it, there
was no guarantee she would not slice them down, too.
“Yes,” Mirane stood but held her blade. The two men, whom she had
known all her life but could not, in that moment, remember anything about,
spread the blanket on the ground behind me and then gently rolled me onto it. I
was bleeding still and my face was completely ashen. Mirane followed them
wordlessly like a windahx31. They entered Sabrine‟s house and lay me down on
one of her boys‟ beds.
“Where are your children?”
“Gyan has them, they are safe.”
Wordlessly, Mirane squeezed her sister‟s hand and stood watching the life
bleed out of me. She went to my bedside and stripped off my shirt so she could
apply more pressure to the bandages. Soon she realized that the bleeding had
31
Windhahx folklore varies greatly but the story Xylvan would have been most familiar with would have
described Windahx’ as mindless artificial warriors scultpted to kill but given no other purpose. Bereft of
purpose, without reason, windahxes would follow their creator like a curse.
Secrets and Illusions 335
slowed. My heart still beat and tiny breaths still escaped my mouth. She kissed
my mouth and cried.
Sabrine brought her a basin of water and a change of clothes. “Let me
take these,” she said, gently tugging on Mirane‟s blood soaked clothing.
“I will not leave him to you.” Sabrine bore the insult and motioned behind
her. Their mother and father stood there, ready to approach.
“I will stay with him, I will watch him.” Jillhue said stepping forward.
“You can trust us, we have not hurt you. We love him.” Sabrine stroked
Mirane‟s cheek, blood rubbed off on Sabrine‟s hand. Sarah took the clothes and
water from Sabrine so that she could continue to stroke and guide Mirane away.
“I will not leave him!” She shouted.
“You do not have to leave.” Sabrine said, stroking her sister‟s hair, “We
are here, you are here, he is here.” Mirane‟s eyes never left me.
Soon after that Jillhue, Sarah and Sabrine left us alone. The village, too,
left her alone with me and she believed that they were busy accounting for
families. But it was not true, they were too afraid to disturb her. Kyltan,
eventually decided it was necessary to break in on us. He looked over to the bed
and saw I was still without senses or consciousness. I was stripped to the waist
and Kyltan could see my bandages covered in dried blood.
“Has the bleeding stopped?”
“Yes, I want to be sure before I remove them. It needs air.” Mirane said
without looking up.
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“Good.” Kyltan watched us hurting. He had read about us and about
what we had done for villages along the western frontier. He had followed our
exploits through correspondence with friends in the north. We were legend to
him, he never expected to have to watch us fight and to die. He wanted to help
us but he needed our help even more. “Mirane.”
“Yes.”
“We have accounted for everyone, miraculously, all are safe. The stories of
heroic children are going to be told for generations32.”
“Good.” Mirane looked up at him for one instance and then returned her
eyes to me.
“We counted twenty-nine dead, and four wounded now sitting gibbering
in our prison.” Mirane thought of the nice room she had spent the night before in
and thought it too good for them.
“There were more.” Mirane said flatly, Her strategic mind starting again.
“Yes.” Kyltan responded
“You need to take action.”
“Yes. What would you suggest?” he asked honestly. She would know
exactly what was best.
“Send word to Kaira for reinforcements. Send a party to go after the
deserters and kill them. The village may need to evacuate if it is possible but that
is a last resort. In the meantime, a full census needs to be taken of survivors.”
32
See Children of Damal
Secrets and Illusions 337
“We all survived.”
“You must ensure that. Then lock down the village, post patrols at each
entrance and when the Kaira guard arrive complete a perimeter around the outer
lands. Wash down all homes and buildings in water, I do not want a single
spark to be simmering somewhere. Gather the bodies and begin to dispose of
them.” Mirane answered soullessly. Only her depth of knowledge and
experience allowed her to answer at all. She had thought that the worst had
happened to her years ago, how could these Darungs hurt her or hers again.
“Word has been sent to Kaira, my own sons went. I shall begin
everything.”
“Good.”
“Do you think they will return?”
“No.” Mirane said solemnly.
“Is it possible?”
“It is.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“No.” her voice was soft.
“And what of the wounded survivors?”
“They can go to Hell!” She stood up and yelled louder and more frenzied
than anyone in the room had expected. “Please, leave us.” She said this softly,
ashamed perhaps. But not likely Mirane, did not feel shame like other people.
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“Yes, Lady.” Kyltan wanted to thank her for saving the village and all the
lives. He knew that she had instructed the children to find hiding places and
that had saved them. He felt he could represent the town‟s joy at being safe but
he could not thank her. He could not trade all those lives to her while my life,
her love, still hung in the balance.
“Thank you.” Mirane said and Kyltan closed the door behind him.
Mirane slid beside my body. It was still very warm and she was relieved
it was not feverish. She stroked my cheeks, my hair, and my chest anywhere she
could touch without fear of hurting me. “Xylvan. Wake up! It‟s time to get up.
We have too much to do.”
Mirane just wanted to speak to me. Maybe my body could forget its pain
and my mind could wake up. “Xylvan, I do not have the time for this, get up.”
Mirane had woken me up this way, many mornings. It angered and frustrated
her that I stubbornly refused to wake up on this morning. I would have if I
could have.
By the following nightfall the village was filled with the Kaira militia.
Their uniform tents were staked into the frozen center of town and Mirane
watched as they encamped. She was told that one of the commanders wanted to
speak with her but that he was turned away at the door. Sabrine could be very
fierce. I still showed no signs of waking and Mirane refused to leave me. She
stood at the window and watched the militia. A mounted patrol prepared to
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leave and she watched as they armed themselves and left the village. She was
not tempted to go with them or to give any more to the village. She had slain
twenty-nine and she had sacrificed me. This is what she told herself as she
watched the young untried men leave the village and head into the night. They
were ill-equipped and inexperienced. They were already dead. And that was
when I, once again, regained my mind.
“Is it still dark?” I asked. My voice was scratchy and weak. It made her
spin on her heel.
“It is dark again.” She responded. Her whole body fought the outpouring
of emotion.
“We are alive.” I murmured, half a statement of surprise and half a
question.
“Yes, we live.” She whispered this like a prayer, “we live, you live.”
“We live.” I repeated with a heavy head.
“How do you feel?”
“Sore.” I struggled to sit up. Mirane held my shoulder and whispered for
me to stay still. “Are we safe?”
“Yes.”
“My hero does it again. Another village safe for families and trials.” I
could not help my sarcasm. It helped me focus on something other than my
foggy brain and throbbing body and the slow burning gash in my back.
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“You did it.” She lay beside me. Tiny kisses spread over his body as she
attempted to impress on her mind the whole of my life. “You made it possible.”
“Yeah.” My voice betrayed my lack of cohesion and thought.
“Yeah.” She continued to touch and kiss me. “Is there war in Sian?”
“Yes, my mother, she starts it.” I was mumbling.
“Oh,” Mirane laughed in spite of herself.
“I‟m tired.”
“Alright.”
“Can I go to sleep?” I leaned forward for another one of her kisses.
“Do you promise to wake up?”
“Yes.” The fog in my mind cleared.
“Promise?” Mirane sat up to look him in the eyes. Liquid eyes promised
her that I would wake. “I will be here when you do.”
“I promise, how badly am I hurt?”
“It depends on what is in that gut of yours.”
I groaned something unintelligible, but she just touched me and
continued.
“Good.” She kissed me. “Let me take a look at your gouge.”
“Alright.” I answered trying to see in the dark. She pulled the bandage
away. It was still a very dangerous wound but had avoided all my organs.
Unfortunately, with a wound like this it needed to be constantly cleaned and
allowed to air.
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“No more stopping arrows,” she said as she pulled a blanket over us both.
Secrets and Illusions 342
Reinforcing
“Do not wake them,” whispered Sabrine.
“Should we not check on them?” Kyltan replied. He was half-glad Sabrine
was holding him back.
“They look alright,” Sabrine hesitated to say. Both stepped closer, to the
very edge of our bed.
“I just want to look at that wound.” Kyltan approached, anxiously, and
lifted the corner of the blanket. I shifted and moaned. Mirane woke up.
“Good morning.” Kyltan offered, still holding the blanket and revealing
my torso to the cold.
Mirane stood up and took the blanket from him. “It is fine. I washed it
out several times in the night.” Some time in the night the analytical part of
Mirane‟s mind began to run through what happened and what could have been
done to prevent it. Each scenario she ran through told her the same thing and
held the same man responsible. Mirane had little sense of fairness, it was
Kyltan‟s fault, fair or not. Her voice displayed her anger and her unwillingness
to give him access to me. Of everyone in the village she believed that Kyltan was
most responsible for this. He did not drill the village over the last years and he
locked her up on the eve of the attack. He might as have just ordered the attack
himself.
“Clean?”
“Yes.”
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“Did he regain consciousness?”
“Yes.” I said opening my eyes. I tried to sit. “He did.”
“Thank the Heavens.” Sabrine said looking in that direction.
“What‟s going on this morning?” I wanted Kyltan to recap everything we
had missed.
“Everything is fine.” Sabrine said quickly but Kyltan passed Mirane a look
and we both knew that that was a lie.
“What‟s happened?” I repeated. Mirane was tempted to go along with
Sabrine‟s collusion but felt it was being kept from her, as well.
“What‟s happened?”
“Mirane, Xylvan, one of the advanced scouts came in about half a mark
ago.” Kyltan did not want to burden us with this.
“And?”
“As far as he knows he‟s the only one alive. The traveled hard all night.
About seven hours from here they encountered a city of tents.” They were
ambushed by some of the perimeter guards but were killed.”
“Except this man?”
“Yes.”
“How many did you send?” I asked.
“Ten.” Kyltan bowed his head as if it had been his decision.
“Kaira is sending reinforcements?” Mirane poised this as a question but
one to which she would only accept one answer.
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“Yes, but it is going to take a couple of days.”
“I see.” Mirane felt terribly for the men who had gone out there to die in
the forest. Mirane felt nothing but complete disgust with the way this was being
handled and with Kyltan.
“Do you think we have that long?” Sabrine asked.
“I do not know. This is no mere raiding party if they have migrated the
city. These people are far more desperate than an ordinary raid.”
“Should we leave?” Sabrine ventured.
“I would say yes, but,” Mirane paused, “they may be watching the roads
to Kaira. East you would stand the best chance.” Sabrine bit her lip in concern
for her family.
“Where could they go if they went east?” I asked pulling himself up on his
hands.
“Nowhere, really,” answered Kyltan. “A few villages but none could hold
off an attack.”
“Will they attack?” Sabrine asked.
“Essentially, that is the only reason they are here.” Mirane answered her
eyes focused beyond the room to the village outside.
“They are desperate, most of them are starving.” I said and Mirane
nodded in agreement.
“Why cannot they just save summer stock for winter?” Sabrine did not
understand their desperation.
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“They cannot, they do not farm and they trade only with one city far to
the west.”
“They could trade with us.” Sabrine suggested.
“It does not work that way. They would rather kill us and owe us
nothing.”
“We have plenty.” Sabrine pushed.
“They are not like us.” Mirane said icily and Sabrine refrained from
speaking again.
“What can we do?”
“I‟ll go and take care of this.” Mirane stood and started for the door.
“What do you intend?” I asked. I could not say that the idea of peaceably
trading did not appeal to me as a reasonable solution, certainly worth
exploration. I looked at Mirane if there were any sign in her face that she agreed.
“I‟ll burn the city.” Her voice was deadened. I closed my eyes and leaned
back again not realizing how tired I was.
“Would that not make them more desperate?” Sabrine asked quietly.
“They will not be alive to starve, or retaliate.” Mirane was attempting to
stare us all down and we were careful about voicing our opinions.
“Mirane, we would have to stay forever, killing them will just make others
come.” I said, they would never be safe.
“Not necessarily.”
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“Let us try to see what they need?” Kyltan, who had been listening and
trying to decide the best course of action.
“Sure, let us just march ourselves out there, hand them our children and
prepare to die.” Mirane was barely in control of her temper or her tongue.
“I‟m not suggesting that.” Kyltan defended. “I said they were starving.
Certainly we can come up with some food. What else do they need?”
“Are you intending that we allow them live and so close at that? Only one
scout came back, what about the other nine that did not. Do you know what
happened to them?”
“How far do you want to take this? Do you want to go and slay them?”
Kyltan was not prepared for her trying and failing. Kyltan was a gentle man. He
was not prepared to issue that order.
“Mirane, I really believe we ought to consider this option.” I was not
afraid of her anger. I knew that she hated them and I knew that she would have
no problem slaying them all for the town, or slaying them for her own reasons.
“What do they make that would be useful here?”
“Nothing, they create nothing.” Her tone was poisonous. Everyone in the
room stepped back.
“That cannot be true.”
“They steal, they rape, they murder they do not create.”
“What do they trade among themselves?” I pursued.
“Nothing.”
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“Please, Mirane.” I was not above using my diminished state to gain her
sympathy. “They must have something worthwhile.”
“No, there is nothing, let them starve, let them die.” Mirane looked at all
of us with deep unease. Did we think she was mad? We did, but we all thought,
she was entitled to this madness. Finally, she spat out, “Textiles. Cloth. They
weave.” Her answer came from clenched teeth.
“They weave?”
“Yes.” Mirane knew what few people knew, that their weaving was some
of the finest in the world and it was treasured among them. It was very rarely
given away. One could discern the entire lineage of a weaver by looking at his or
her piece. Each tribe had a different technique they had developed for centuries.
“Very fine quality, they make everything they wear or live within, it is a currency
among them.”
“Certainly the village could use that and sell it to other villages and
Kaira.” Kyltan suggested.
“They will not part with it.” Mirane looked at us like we were wasting
precious slaughter time.
“Not even for food?” Sabrine asked.
“Why should they?” Mirane said, “They can get anything they want by
stealing it. They can do that by killing us, why give us something if it is easier to
kill us. This is how they think, you do not know.”
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“But they cannot get all that they need,” I replied. “They are not getting
anything here.”
“They are not done yet. If they have a city this close, this village is going
to be a constant target. And not just this village, every village within days of
here will be in danger. Even if they agree to trade we are still going to be a
target.”
“So are you saying that the only way out of this is to kill every last one of
them?” I tried to exaggerate to get Mirane to realize the outrageousness of her
thoughts. I wanted her to see the absurdity of it, the inevitable escalation of it.
“Yes.” Her reply was colder than I could have predicted. I had spent time
with her, teaching villages to protect themselves but I had never faced the
Darungs themselves, with her. I always knew that she despised them but never
had I experienced the totality of that dark hatred, I suspected then that I would
never experience it but I might see the devastating results of it.
“Mirane.” Kyltan was not surprised by her total hate. He had seen those
marks on her body and could only guess at the severity of the pain she had
endured. He knew that she was a warrior and that she was paid to kill.
However, he did not wish to have all of these deaths on his head, the bodies
stacked outside sickened him. Kyltan‟s conflicted heart reverberated throughout
the room. I did not envy his position.
“May I remind you, they attacked us, we did not hunt them on their land,
we did not put knives to the bodies of their children, we did not brandish flames
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in the dead of night. They came here.” Mirane looked at each of us, her eyes
staying with us until each one of us looked away. “Why are we even considering
opening ourselves to this level of danger?”
“We are not thinking about the immediate. We have to start thinking
about this as a pattern. They have done this to us for generations. Long ago we
should have thought of a solution.” Kyltan argued. He was the elected leader of
this village and he was not bound to make his case to her, but he felt that she was
the only one who could offer any advise at all. Ultimately what she said would
be their best course of action. But, if he could convince her, then she would make
it possible.
“Do you want to pursue this?” Mirane looked to me again. Her eyes were
hard and serious. I wanted to break my vow to her. I wanted to see what was
behind the blackness of her eyes.
“I want to know more.” I replied. I knew only that these people were
desperate. They may be willing. “If this were a viable course, I would pursue
it?”
“How well are you feeling? Their arrow went through you.” Mirane said.
“Indeed it has.” My hand went to touch the snug bandage that covered
that gaping wound. “But we are the more civilized people.”
Mirane looked at me for a long time searching my face for some answer.
She had come close to losing me, too close, for her mind. It has raised my value
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to her considerably, I thought. I was willing to use that to save lives. “You feel
this is what we should do.”
“The peaceful solution is always better.”
“I do not agree”
“But if it could work, do you know how many villages we could save.”
“How can you ask this?” She looked at all of us like we were now the
enemy. “How can any of you ask this?”
“I can ask it, no one was hurt,” I said.
“You were hurt.” Mirane‟s face softened for a moment, “You were
hurt…” her voice trailed away leaving my heart lurching for its final words.
“I will recover. This is the right thing. This is what you were meant to
do.” I said trying to think like Mirane, trying to say the things that would sway
her mind.
“This is what you want.”
“Yes,”
Sabrine, Kyltan and I watched her and perhaps innumerable thoughts and
one difficult choice worked their way through her mind as we stood there trying
to discern her progress. A long moment went by before she looked each of us in
the eyes. “We shall take first steps.” Her voice left one unmistakable thought in
all of us, she will cooperate but this will be on her terms.
“What do you have in mind?” Kyltan asked. I will accept your command.
“Where are the prisoners?”
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“They are under guard.” Kyltan responded.
“Here is the deal, so far. “ Mirane was putting this in no uncertain terms.
She would keep this village alive, she would not bargain with their lives and she
would not hesitate to kill as many of these raiders as she could reach by sword.
“Yes?”
“Xylvan and I will interview two of the prisoners. Surely the guards have
determined who, if any, are the leaders among them. I speak their tongue and
Xylvan will monitor their thought for deception and desperation. If both of the
men are receptive to the idea of trading, if their thoughts reflect that their fellows
will also be receptive. If their thoughts do not betray a desire to kill us then we
shall put together a small amount of food. Xylvan, if he is able, Kyltan, and I will
go to the city and we shall trade with them. If either of these men feel that killing
my family is more important than their own families living through this winter, I
will slay the entire group of them.”
Kyltan hated to admit it but this would be the best he would get. He did
not want to walk a line of danger with these people. “Xylvan, can you walk?”
“I can try.” I swung my legs to the side of the bed and tried to stand.
Sabrine averted her eyes from my nakedness. “I can stand.” It was painful,
excruciating, but I forced myself to do it.
“Then if you would excuse us for a few moments we will prepare.”
Mirane dismissed Kyltan and Sabrine.
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“I cannot let you go to that city alone.” I leaned forward to grab my
clothes. The wound shot painful burst through me and I stopped. If my words
had any power or influence I felt them gone with the appearance of my
weakness. Her voice had the tiniest almost imperceptible softness.
“I have not said I am going?”
“No, but I fear that you will.”
“I want you to be there, but I cannot risk your getting hurt again.” She
touched the wound in my gut and I winced as the pain shot through me. She
reached for my shoulders to steady me. Her anger at the Darungs flared in her
cheeks. I touched her. There was nothing I could say. If I could touch her mind
then I would have comforted it, I would have opened up my pain to her so she
could see it was not as great as those she has borne herself. Instead, I could only
touch her face and keep her focused.
“Do you think there is a chance they will take the trade?”
“It will depend on these men.”
“Who is back at that camp?”
“Mostly women and children, I would say. Usually the men go out at half
force so that the other half will be fresh for the next raid. However, if they are
desperate enough to bring the entire city down, they may have gone out
stronger.”
“So you‟re likely to face another fifty.”
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“I think so, another fifty men, at least one hundred women, not so many
children if they were starving.”
“Tell me, would you kill children?” I asked before I thought of whether I
wanted to know the answer. I knew that the mission God had given her
required her to do things that I could not conceive of, or understand, and yet it
was hard for me to know the darkness and bloodshed of which she was capable.
It was harder for Sabrine.
“They killed mine.” I saw a moment of deep sadness and then I saw her
push it away. She was exhausted and weakened. Always so good at concealing
her emotions, and protecting her thoughts, it was hard for her to keep such
sorrow from her face under such duress. This disclosure hit me like a punch.
Those children suddenly felt like mine. She had mentioned this to me on
isolated and rare occasions and as many times as we had lain together no child
ever formed in her womb. Despite this, I never truly believed it was true. Even
then I believed we were in some sort of prelude to our lives, Mirane who had
lived so much in so little time had not lived yet at all. I would rather believe that
someday there would be children. I did not tell her that, instead I reached out
and held her hand.
“I have a procedure that will force them to tell the truth. Do you think that
that could be of any value?‟
“Of course, but for this interview I want to know more what they are
thinking and less about what they perceive to be the truth.”
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“I will describe what they are thinking to you.” I suggested.
“I do not know if this is possible, but could you project their thoughts to
me, visually, as they happen. Not for their eyes.”
“I can illustrate their thoughts to you directly of course, or I could project
it so you and Kyltan can see it just as is.”
“Alright. Are you sure you are strong enough?”
“Yes.” I drew her face to me and kissed her. I pushed my hands into her
hair and held her close to me. I could not lose her any more than she could me.
Against his better judgment, Kyltan accompanied Mirane and me over to
the common house where the prisoners were being kept. He asked the guards
which two had taken leadership roles while in custody and those men were
selected. Heavily tethered they were brought down to the common room. Both
were visibly anxious and fearful. Both men were older than Mirane and I but not
by much. Their bodies were built for fighting and perhaps each man had once
been a powerful warrior but extended malnutrition and starvation had stretched
their sallow skin across their massive bones. Broad faces had sunken cheeks and
dark circles beneath wrinkled eyes. These men had shaved the sides of their
heads and wore the hair on the top of their head in a black top knot wrapped in
silken threads. None of the prisoners were allowed to wash and blood splatter
covered their clothes and face. As Mirane entered the room their cavernous faces
grew dark and haunted. I was tempted to soothe their fears but the look on
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Mirane‟s face clearly told me that their fear was in their own best interest. Two
chairs were put in the middle of the room and they were tied to them. Kyltan,
Mirane and I stood in front of these men and looked down on them.
“Kak faz yublai33.” Mirane began asking them for their names. I watched
them closely and began to create the images of their thoughts behind them.
Mirane watched as the events of the raid played out. At first the men were
triumphant and then it all went wrong and everyone was afraid, scrambling to
escape. “Why did you attack us?” She asked.
“Hyhban,” began the man who called himself Scrazt, “Hyhban ordered
the attack.” The man was telling the truth but not all of it. He was surprised the
woman knew their language and was not sure what kind of a test this was. He
wanted to keep as much unsaid as possible. “Giving credit to Hyhban would be
good for the tribe regardless of what happens here.” Mirane told us.
“What did he want here?”
“Animals and food.”
“We have both.”
“Yes, we saw.”
“Are you hungry, now?”
“Yes.” Scrazt avoided answering but this companion, Uime, blurted his
response.
“Are you married, Uime?”
33
Tense used is derogatory.
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“I have only two wives.” Uime thought of them and two very thin women
appeared behind him, they were crying and ashamed. Of course, this did not
mean that they were crying or ashamed but that Uime imagined that they were.
“Would you like to stay here?” Mirane said this seductively but Uime‟s
thoughts went only to his wives. It was very clear to me, that he was fond of
them.
“What would you give to go home?”
Uime‟s mind went blank and tears ran from his eyes over the dried blood.
I felt very sorry for the man who was sure that he was going to die. That did not
bother him but the thought that his wives would have to marry other men
bothered him, he sensed a loyalty to the women and the value they had as his
wives in addition to genuine affection. He formed an image of giving his own
life for theirs.
“And you Scraszt? What would you lose?” This man had no wife, she was
already dead and he believed he was, too. “What would you give to live?”
It was Uime who started to look at Mirane differently. Behind him a wall
of flame appeared accompanied by the most horrific smell of burning hair and
flesh. The potency of the sensation caused me to gasp and choke. I stumbled.
“What‟s happening?” Mirane wrapped her arm around me.
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“I‟m fine,” I lied, still choking. I forced myself to stand and as I did, I
caught Uime‟s vision. From the wall of flame, from the stench of death emerged:
the silhouette of a woman. Uime believed it was Mirane.
These men had cast her in the story of a massacre, a bloody devastating
massacre that filled them with such fear and disgust. In those first five years, I
vicariously, experienced many reactions to Mirane from condescension to
irrelevance to desire, lust and arrogance but I had never experienced anything as
instantly intense and specific. Her presence was horrifying to them. It was
revolting to them in the way of nightmares.
Mirane looked away from the men and to the illusion that stood in back.
Clear to Kyltan, Mirane and I, was the massacre. Mirane, or a woman who
looked remarkable like her stood in front of a burning tent city. It was early in
the dawn but the fire and the smoke rose high and black. Behind her were dead
and blackened bodies. The woman did not look back. She strode very
confidently away from the fire, her hair blew behind her, her face and clothes
streaked with blood and ash.
“What is this?” Mirane demanded of Uime and she forced his body to
turn and look at the image. For a frozen moment he looked at the image, then
screamed and turned back to her to beg for forgiveness. He struggled against his
bindings to fall to his knees. He pleaded for his life in a rapid tumbling of trilled
syllables flew from his mouth.
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Mirane grabbed him by the throat, “What is this, who is that?” Despite
everything she was, everything Sians will come to believe of her, she was not
prone to a sudden temper. Kyltan and I stood back as Mirane lifted the man by
his neck and demanded that he answer.
“The Seraflegh,” he answered collapsing to the floor. Mirane looked at
him for a long time.
“What is a Seraflegh?” Kyltan asked.
“It is a legend.” Mirane answered distractedly. Later, so much later, I
would learn what and who the Seraflegh was, but Mirane knew at that moment.
Her demeanor changed immediately.
Mirane lunged across the room again and grabbed Uime by his neck.
Scraszt reached for her but the guards held him bak; I had not though Kyltan‟s
sons could move that quickly.
“You miserable bastard, Faze wirdin fukdanto,” she switched effortlessly to
Darung. Before last night I had never heard her whisper a word of it. “Jup en faz
lintieng.” Uime looked at her and suddenly there was not a single breath in the
room. “These men, Prince Jimerateal of Sian and Lord Kyltan of Gryth
Territories, these important Diamon Dren, have come to speak to you wirdin
fukadantoo, listen.” Mirane dropped her hand and both Scrazt and Uime sat up
and looked to us. Mirane turned to me with a perfectly calm face, “Would you
like me to translate?”
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“Yes, if you would.” I replied unsure if it was safe to reject her offer and
trying to seem as important as she had made me out to be.
“Yes, of course.”
“We would like to propose a joint trading venture between this village
and your tribe.”
Mirane spoke harshly for several minutes, far longer than any translation
should take. I could see their reactions and images she put into their minds.
Mirane‟s colorful translation was probably the least diplomatic statement I‟d
hear in my life, short of, „If you want to know what your own liver tastes like,
then may I suggest you continue to hassle me over the price.‟ Which by no
coincidence was also Mirane‟s negotiating style, the previous year. We did not
get that contract.
The men had not thought trade would be possible and no one in their
tribe had ever suggested it. There was a group in the north that sold their
tapestries to a city and received enough food and fuel to live on throughout the
year. They were too ashamed to come to the festivals and were considered to
have very low prestige.
“If trade kept you all alive would you do it?”
“Yes.” Uime answered with embarrassment. His thoughts went to a tiny
scrap of food.
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“Mirane, I think this interview is over.” I touched her shoulder. I knew
that she was desperate for any excuse to destroy them but there was not reason
here. Kyltan took the men away.
“They are desperate.” I began, “and they were very frightened of you.”
“Of course, they watched me butcher their tribesmen last night.”
“More than that, they knew who you were.”
“What do you mean?”
“They know that you have taken their blood before.”
“What are you talking about?”
“That legend, they suspect and they believe. They associate you with a
myth about a woman of flame and beauty who betrayed them some time in their
history.”
“That is an old legend, a bogeyman, a finger woman, it means nothing
unless it helps us.”
“Are we going to try to trade?” I asked bluntly.
“We will continue onto the next step but I do not know how far we will
get. How are you doing?”
“I think I need to rest.”
“Of course.” Mirane felt my forehead. I should not even have been
walking at this time but I could not let Mirane conduct these interviews on her
own. I believed that she was capable of killing our prisoners. I could not let her
do that. Strange that I could follow her for years, helping her with her quest
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against these people and yet so loathe the idea of what she might do to them and
so confident I would protect them. “You are warm, let us go to Sabrine‟s.”
Mirane wrapped her arm around my waist and helped me to the door.
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Proposal
Mirane slipped from my warm arms and put her feet to the cold floor.
Outside the village was dark with the still night. The militia had arrived late last
night and had settled in on the green. Most of them were asleep; however, they
had posted guards around the perimeter. These men were on the watch for the
raiders and would not notice one villager leaving.
She dressed in darkness, her clothes were black and thick, and her boots
were wound with black wool and her cape tied close to her body. She left the
room we shared and crept silently to Sabrine and Gyan‟s common room. She
went to the fireplace and smeared black ash on her hands and face. She left her
long hair clean and tucked it all up within her cap. She pulled a long bow across
her body, tied long unfinished arrows to her back, and tucked her sword into its
familiar place at her side.
Once outside the house she borrowed one of Gyan‟s horses and filled its
packs with food. Earlier she had composed instructions for Kyltan and given
them to Sabrine‟s youngest son to give to Kyltan or Sabrine the next day. Those
plans outlined what they should prepare within that day. The boy was sworn on
his honor and his not insignificant crush on his famous aunt. When she stepped
outside, Mirane looked at their fresh tents and knew that underneath them slept
shop keepers, new dads, young husbands, over grown boys who‟d all signed up
to be volunteer warriors and spontaneous heroes and as such, were the most
unqualified for it. It had to be her; there was no way she would let these boys do
Secrets and Illusions 363
her work. Of course, if she failed, it would fall to them. “God save us from
that,” she thought. The militia must be prepared to attack the Tent City if she
did not return within three days. She would be back in two if she lived.
It was just as easy to slip through the holes in the militia‟s perimeter as she
thought it would be. She entered the western forest unseen and was riding hard
through the predawn darkness. She was not tired but she rested occasionally for
the poor animal that had been drafted into her service. It was the same fine beast
that had borne her to the wedding and it was not accustomed to such hardship.
In the early morning light she could see that they had both sustained rips and
tears from the thorns around them. The animal looked at her pleadingly to stop
but she explained to him that it was necessary for them to do this. Despite being
unappeased the horse allowed her to remount.
It was hours before the first sign of the Tent City confronted the delicate
nose of this decorative horse. Mirane prayed that the horse remain quiet until
they could get close enough. It was not even an hour later that Mirane got a
sight of the sprawling group of tents. The tribe that had held by always
clustered their tents and quality that made it easy to kill them. This group either
had learned from that mistake or felt there was no danger here. Their tents were
spread further than she was used to. They were brightly dyed in reds and
violets, against the winter plain below. The forest was behind her and she hoped
that she melted into it still. She had approached from a flank that gave her a
good vantage but would be difficult to approach with an army. They had backed
Secrets and Illusions 364
their camp against its steep rise. She looked at it and knew that she could ride
her mount down it even though it would be slow going.
She crouched down and watched the group. It was already midday but
there seemed to be little activity. By now they must be aware that the original
attack had failed, especially since the Kaira group had come after the deserters.
They were not quite in the state of confusion they might be. She hoped that the
boy had given Kyltan his instructions because there might be danger if they have
already sent the second group of raiders. It would be a terrible thing for the
village but even worse for this city. She had not seen any sign on the way that
they had already come through but they might have gone a different route.
She stayed perched until she counted as many as twenty different males
still in the city. She looked around her; she needed something to get their
attention. She went deeper in the wood so they would not see her, then built a
small fire. She used the ash to darken her face again in case it had lost its
blackness and then set two arrows on fire. She hurried back to the ridge and
struck both arrows into the air. She watched as the first and then the second lit a
tent each on fire. Its inhabitants ran screaming outside and were soon joined by
others alerted by the noise. They had not figured out what happened, no one
had seen the arrows and she was flat against the earth.
Now that she had a third of the city out in the cold she prepared two more
arrows for flight. To one she attached a small packet of salted meats. She knew
that they considered this to be a great treat. This arrow landed in front of them
Secrets and Illusions 365
and she stood up to deliver it. Half of the group was staring at her and the other
at her gift. She tore her cap off her head and released her mane of fire hair. She
knew that the men had associated her with their legend and she knew better than
I that they could not be more correct. As they stared up at her she could almost
taste their fear and their confusion. The horse was close enough for her to catch
its reigns and pull it to the edge.
Below her, she could she that some of the fighters had grabbed swords
and long bows. Archers were already pointing their arrows at her. She mounted
the animal without fear; she sensed from them that they would not shoot unless
she did anything else dangerous. She prayed she could trust her instincts on
this. She held the animal tightly in her thighs and forced it to begin its trek down
to the plain. It took each step hesitantly and very slowly, that did not matter to
her. She still had one arrow poised on her bow and aimed at the city. It was not
alight but they still respected it.
When the horse reached the floor of the plain it was shaking and nervous.
She whispered sweet soft words to it to comfort it; she had already pushed it
farther than she believed she could have. Together they walked into the city.
She saw around her that they were starving, their bodies were emaciated and
tired. The food that she had shot at them was gone, she had not seen anyone
take it or eat it but it had been moved away from the group. Each step the horse
took the more room they gave her until they completely surrounded her.
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“Darung” she began addressing them in their own word for themselves.
She had not thought of that word in a long time. She was so comfortable with
“raiders”, and “enemy,” that this word for people pronounced so softly
discomforted her. “You know who I am.”
They were silent; one woman grabbed for a small child near her and
hugged it close to her. The child itself seemed sexless, it had on ripped clothes
that seemed to have no warmth, and its hair was cut short. The woman had all
her hair, but her own clothes were lacking the fineness that she should have had.
“Are you here to kill us, too?” asked one man finally.
“Yes.” She answered coldly. Weapons were still raised against her but
none were being used. Did they believe that she was not killable? Had she
passed into some popular legend as an immortal or a demon? “But I will not.”
They stopped screaming and wailing and looked at her for reasons.
“What are you here to do?”
“Why did you come to my village the other night?”
“Because my children are starving, because my wife is dead,” yelled one
man who picked up two small babies and hoisted them up at her.
“Why my village, why attack, why kill?”
“There is only so much food in the world. Your village grows fat with it,
when is our turn?” Mirane had heard this argument before but never so
impassioned. Largely it was a joke and the thinnest veiling of an excuse. Mirane
nearly killed him for that but she retained her calm and her temper.
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“I am able to offer you all life.” Mirane looked at all of them at once, she
made eye contact with the men who had spoken up and forced their eyes to look
away. “It comes at a price.”
“What price, anything.” Several Darung mumbled this and one woman
shouted, pleadingly.
“My village has food, more than enough, all of it good, none of it rotten.
They will exchange it with you for something.”
“A trade. We have nothing.”
“You have your weaving, your tents, your clothes, we will take only these.
We will not take anything that you have stolen from other villages only the items
you have made.”
“That is all, food for these rags?”
“This year.”
“And next?”
“Next year we will want finer things made. You will all be busy
throughout the summer creating these things while we grow food from the
ground. Then you will travel back to this place and meet us.”
“We shall need time to consider your terms,” this was spoken by the
oldest Darung woman she had ever seen. The woman wore very fine garments
and walked with the aid of a long staff, though she too was starving.
“There is no time.”
“There is always time,” replied the woman.
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“Not this time, I have left instructions that an army will come in two days.
They are three hundred strong and they are prepared to kill you all, down to the
smallest babe. Do you believe me?”
“Yes.” The woman was knowledgeable and powerful; one did not reach
that age by being anything but.
“I will be returning to my village with your answer this very day. If you
agree you will send five of your strongest people to this spot with ten horses.
Each animal will have all the extra fabric, garments and canvas you can spare
this winter. Two of these people will be Uime‟s wives, Caliopp and Miysh. We
five will return to my village to make a fair exchange. In addition, I want all
your red skirts.”
“No red skirts, we have none. And if we decline?”
“Then you have two days to move this city as far you can from this spot as
you can before the most massive army you‟ve ever seen has been amassed and
tracks you down by my sword. Now go, speak among yourselves.”
“And if we kill you.” One man came from behind and screamed. She
turned easily and sliced him. He fell to the ground bleeding and screaming.
“Do any of you want to starve trying to kill me? I have lived among you, I
know starving. I‟m not too tired to kill you all with my own blade. I know you
believe that I can. Those who do not should rethink that.”
Secrets and Illusions 369
The decision that would change the history of their tribe was made in less
than a mark34. It was often said among the Darung that decisions were always
made as a choice between two equal evils. The members of this city felt that this
was the only choice they could live with and it was.
Women she presumed to be Caliopp and Miysh were the first to arrive at
the designated spot. They came dressed in red, the color of birth, of
menstruation, of bloody death, and the color of blood. They believed they were
a being led to the sacrifice. Mirane did not care. The three other representatives
came with their animals soon after and Mirane descended to the plain again.
They met her with averted eyes and fear. She believed that was the best she
could hope for. She checked them all for weapons, especially the two women.
None of them had so much as a cutting wheel on them. The old woman was
very wise.
Before they left friends and family bid them tearful farewells and Mirane
made them pull away. She did not comfort any of their unspoken fears. “If there
is even the slightest threat to my life all of you will die. I shall tether you high in
the trees and let the birds pick you apart.” To illustrate her point Mirane looked
up at those same high branches. She was so far satisfied with this expedition and
even more relieved that I was not with her. I would be a comfort to them and
showing them my illusions to help communicate with them. She spoke their
34
See Borderland Relations in the South by Walte Grumche
Secrets and Illusions 370
language and she knew of what they were capable. They were already
desperate; a little fear would not force them into a riot.
The hours back to the crawled as slowly as the captives moved. Mirane
did not speak. She thought that if she spoke even a word she would betray the
extent of her growing exhaustion. She kept her mind focused on getting home
alive and handing these representative traders over to Kyltan who could handle
it from there. She hoped he would be wise enough to have the militia escort
them back and on their way. It would be in the best interest of Kaira for the
militia to patrol that area for a short time to insure they did not return until the
designated trading time.
When she saw the first set of perimeter guards she felt all her muscles
relax. She forced herself to stay rigid upon her mount. The guard that first saw
them had already called over several others and they were ready to greet these
newcomers. Mirane had not met these particular men before.
“What is your name?” the first said to her with authority.
“My name is Mirane Damaskoi.”
“What is your business?” Her name meant nothing to her interrogator.
“Did you not get your assignment to be at this post from Kyltan?”
“Ma‟am you are running out of time. What is your business?”
“I‟m here to deliver these prisoners to Lord Kyltan.”
“Prisoners?”
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“Yes, I have five Darung prisoners for Kyltan.”
“I‟m going to need you to dismount.” The young soldier had been poorly
briefed and Mirane was in no mood for his officiousness. As far as she was
concerned the army did nothing to prevent these attacks and yet had the nerve to
subject her to their protocol.
Mirane nudged the animal forward. She stood up taller and her hand
went decidedly to her large sword. “I‟m going to need to speak with your
commander.”
“Lady, I‟m going to need you to dismount.” He repeated. And Mirane
did. Faster than any of the young soldiers had ever seen someone move she had
dismounted and pulled him down to the ground. She disarmed him simply and
while the other two were dismounting she pulled them off their animals and
pushed them to the ground. The first stood up on his knees, at face level with
Mirane‟s extended blade.
“I need to speak with your commander, what is his name?”
“I am his commander.” Kyltan walked up behind the downed men all
kept down by Mirane‟s sword and force of will.
“Did you get my message?”
“Yes, I did.” Kyltan looked at the three young soldiers with a mix of
disdain and frustration. He had no choice but to call them in to protect this
village but they could be brought down by one of the villagers, a villager he
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could not control. So instead of the plan going as planned he had Mirane going
rogue and his soldiers causing her additional trouble. He scowled.
“I have the first representatives of your ground breaking trading treaty.”
Kyltan looked away from the soldiers and away from Mirane and to the four
frightened Darungs.
“Welcome,” he said and approached them with open arms.
“They will not understand you.”
Kyltan shot her a quick displeased look.
“I did not ask for this to happen. I did not wish to pursue this plan but I
am supporting it, I am the only one who could have gotten them here, do not
look at me that way.”
“Mirane,” he said but she did not let him finish his sentence.
“Lord Kyltan, take them to the common house, that woman is Uime‟s
wife, I do not see that they should not be reunited. I need to clean up and sleep,
then Xylvan and I will join you to help with translation.” Mirane‟s voice was icy
and allowed no room for Kyltan to speak again. Mirane stalked away.
Angry, exhausted, and self-righteous, Mirane left Kyltan and returned
directly to Sabrine‟s house. Some part of me, at the time, wished that I were not
there, that she would have to seek me out. But I was waiting for her there. It
soon became clear to me that her leaving me now for this second time was less
surprising than that she had not done it at all during the first five years. When
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Mirane stepped into the bedroom we shared she found me just as angry,
exhausted and self-righteous as she was. I was standing, my wound from the
other night bandaged and I was packing to go.
I never wish to know what would have happened had she given me
enough time or opportunity to leave.
“Good morning,” she smiled sleepily as she closed the door behind her
quietly.
“Mirane,” my face was stern and my voice icy.
“Are you alright, are you in pain?” Mirane kept her eyes on me and had
not yet seen my pack. She was dressed head to toe in black, her face covered in
sweat streaked ash. Her hair was loose and tangled around her. Looking at her
made it harder to do what I intended. She stepped forward and tried to pull
apart my clothes.
“No, I‟m fine.”
“You are dressed, where are you going.”
“I assume you succeeded.” I changed the subject. I wanted to yell at her
for leaving, I wanted to make her understand that she could not run away and be
the hero. She had Kyltan and his army surely she could have thought of some
way of using these resources. Why did she feel she needed to run ahead and
take care of it all herself. She could have been killed, should have been killed, the
odds were inexorably stacked against her.
“Well, we‟ll see.”
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“What do you mean?”
“I brought back, with me, five young people and ten horses. They
brought their trade for the year. I left it up to Kyltan and the village how to
arrange the matter but I made sure the Darungs knew that they would be
moving their city much farther west.”
“They agreed to the trade.”
“They were forced to agree.”
“By you?” I gave her a hard look trying to see her, really see her.
“By it being the right thing to do for them.” Mirane was too exhausted to
argue or defend against unspoken accusations. She stripped off her leggings and
washed in the cold basin. The ash sluiced from her face and hands and darkened
the water. She promised herself a much better bath later that day and pulled a
long dress over her head and tied the laces loosely. She looked back to me and a
look of betrayal had settled in thin hollow cheeks. “What is it?”
“I am leaving.”
“Yes, I asked you where you were going.” Mirane no longer looked like
she was ignoring what was plain and obvious between us. She was carefully
controlling difficult feelings and a quickly growing fury.
“Home. I‟m going home.”
“Home to Sian.”
“Yes.” We looked at each other for a long moment. It hung behind us
with a sense of finality. If I could reach out to her mind, if I knew what she was
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thinking, if I could feel her perhaps it would all end differently. Mirane was no
more than she had always been. She was impatient and hasty. She thought of no
one but herself and her need to save everyone single handedly. She was not a
part of my soul as I had spent these last years believing. She was the love of my
life but she had no love. Even as I thought this I knew it was a harsh assessment.
She had loves, she must, but she was unwilling to share them. She had left me
behind in Scolar and I dutifully followed believing I had crossed her for not
staying behind. She wanted me to follow her because that was how our lives
went. She led and I followed blindly sometimes. I now wanted those blinders to
be removed.
“I see.” She said and pushed back her exhaustion to somewhere else in her
mind. “When are you leaving?”
“Today.”
“You are going to travel in the winter?”
“Damn it, I traveled here through this frozen hell of a winter to get here.”
“And why the hell did you do that?”
“I do not know.”
“And for that matter, how did you do that, it took me three times as long.”
“It took me even longer than that. I tracked you from the day you left.”
“I told you to stay, I told you to go to Sian and now that is exactly what
you are threatening. You want to leave me, you cannot stand for me to leave
you.”
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“That is it, Mirane. That is exactly it. It is so easy for you to leave me as if
I am nothing to you. You live, you plow through the world and I revolve around
you waiting for your next inspiration, instruction, whim, decision, passion
whatever it is that you plow to next and I can keep up or be left behind, unless it
is your wish that I be left behind.”
“I would have wanted you there today.”
“You are lying.”
“Yes, I am. I did not want you there. I needed to play on a myth, they did
not believe I was human, they did not try to kill me out of pure fear. Pure fear.
Fear that is in their skin, fear that controls their brains against making any other
decision from the decision I wanted them to make. You saw that when we spoke
to them. If you had been there they might not have made that connection, I
would not have had fear on my side. If I had that militia they would have not
thought twice about throwing themselves on our swords. I followed the plan
that you had advocated, I brought representatives back for a trade and I left
written instructions as to what to do while I was gone in order to prepare for my
failure.”
“But you left without a word. You could have gone alone even if Kyltan
and I knew that you were going.”
“Of course, I could not.” She pictured Larken and Kyltan stopping her,
her family protesting and my asking her to reconsider. “And even if I could then
I would not have had the power I had.”
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“And what power was that.”
“I was willing to kill them.”
“I cannot live like this, Mirane,” I growled.
“Like how?” She asked her voice filled with her own anger restrained only
by the knowledge of how thin these walls were.
“Mirane, I do not know who you think that I am to you but you have no
thought at all for my partnership. Do I just work for you, should I collect my
gold from you at the end of the year.”
“How could I possibly afford the services of the great Prince Jimareteal,
the Prince who has secured us immunity from the law. The Prince who has
changed the way the entire borderlands think about their security because he can
show them what they fear the most. The Prince whose very presence means that
I cannot move as I wish, cannot think as I wish, must hide every horrible thought
that I have lest you discover it, the Prince whose very presence I could not leave
in the Francinian wood, the Prince who changed everything about me. How can
I pay that in gold each year? If you want to leave, leave. Leave me forever and
return to your northern paradise leave me changed and leave me alone.” She
was an inexplicable mix of sarcasm, scathing and sincere.
“What are you saying?”
“I am saying nothing that you should not already know.”
“What am I to know? How am I to know it?”
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“That I love you. How are you to know that I love you? Is that what you
are asking me?”
“Yes, how?”
“Did you not propose marriage to me, did I not accept, did you think I
took nothing you have said for five years with value. Leave Xylvan. Just leave.”
Mirane tried to stand taller, tried to look even more aloof but she did not. She sat
down on the bed, with her back to me. I looked at her and knew that this was
the moment that I could stay or go. If I stayed, I had to risk that she would not
change, that I could find myself once again in a cold bed with her riding off to
her death, to another man or to wherever she chose but if I went, if I went, I
would not get to spend a single moment more with her. Even if I knew nothing
about her before the day I met her, even if I never got to know more than I knew
at that moment than I could still learn about her future. So I risked it all. “Do
you want me to leave?”
She turned around, she stood and with every ounce of conviction in her
body she looked at me, her evergreen eyes wide and clear. “No.”
“Then I need to be more to you. I will be a partner to you, someone who
protects you as you protect me, someone who is as much a part of the decision
making as you are…”
“You are always part of the decision. When we bargain you strike the
deal.”
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“More than in business, Mirane. When I suggest we go to Sian, you end
the discussion. You want to see your family but you have never mentioned that
they live to me. You want to end your marriage, and yet I do not know you are
married. You want to set up a trade agreement with a Darung city and I do not
know that you have gone. I will not be so far away.”
“We are going to Sian, but regardless, you did not want me to go to Sian,
you did not want to come here, you did not want to watch me slay the Darungs.”
She was still shouting.
“You do not know any of that, here I am, I have seen you kill, and I have
seen you fight. I know that I want to be with you. Each day I learn that there is
nothing you can do that would make me want to leave you, if I know that you
are with me.”
“Are you going to leave? Are you going to stay with me while I wait for
you to punish me and leave when I least expect it?”
“No, Mirane. I am not going to punish you.”
“Are you going to Sian?”
“Are you coming with me?”
“I will.”
Slowly the anger in the room dissipated. I came forward to embrace her.
“I love you.”
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“I love you. You are my prince, my love.” She kissed my mouth and
pressed her body against me. A practiced and subtle shift in her body weight
cued me to lower her to the bed.
“Will you leave me again?”
“No,” she whispered in my ear, “now you‟ll have to come everywhere
with me.”
“With pleasure.” I kissed her again and she met my kiss with warmth
before falling back on the pillows. My hair fell over her in a dark straight curtain
and she pushed it away, tossing it over my shoulder.
I kissed her as deeply as I could. I pressed my body against hers lining
my legs with hers, my stomach with hers, my hips with hers, her breasts to my
chest, fingers entwined. I did not wish there to be a single inch of her body that I
could not reach, that I could not touch. We who love warriors have to accept that
we lose them all the time. We lose our hearts to them and they take them into
battle and we stand to lose it all. I was staying, little if anything would change
between us. She was who and what she was and while I had her, while I could
touch her I would keep her and feel her as fully as I could. I stripped off her
filthy clothes and left her naked on the bed. Her criss crossed flesh was a
reminder of what she had endured and what I had to do to amend. I kissed her
face and her neck. I kissed the valley between her breasts and down to her taut
muscled stomach. I kissed her hips and her knavish, stroking these sweet folds
with my tongue. Mirane‟s body was taut and quivering from battle. I reached
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up to her chest and reminded her to relax. I lapped at her nyvish while she
moaned her pleasure. It did not take long before quivering from battle had
turned into quivering with pleasure. I stroked the flesh at the top of her leg and
separated her to open to me. She reached. I returned to her mouth and kissed
her as deeply as I intended to penetrate her body. Despite my wound, I needed
her. I needed her if I were going to heal; I needed her if I were going to live.
“I need to sleep.” She whispered and I looked again at her. Her hair was
filthy with dirt and ash. There was dried blood across her face and hair and the
clothes on the floor. Subtle lines on her face were filled with ash and dirt.
“I need to be with you.” I groaned unfastening my trousers and slipping
out of them. “I need to feel you and…”I slid into her waiting body. I did not
finish the sentence. She rolled me over and rode me, rocking me and caressing
me. She drove me to the peak of pleasure, taking hers as she wanted. When I
finally released into her body, I felt waves of pleasure wash over me. She
shuddered on top, closing her eyes and tossing her head back. I loved to see her
pleasure.
She rolled off and curled up beside me. “We need a bath.”
“It can wait.” She answered sleepily. Her eyes barely stayed awake. “I
need a bath.”
“Yes, you do. I‟ve never seen you so dirty.” There was a lilt of humor in
her voice. “Your own mother would not recognize her. And she was correct.
Mirane was the first person I had ever seen covered in blood or dirt for that
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matter. Bathing, in Sian, is a veritable art form. Certain bath techniques were as
treasured as rare slices of Punta mushrooms. Bathing in my own country was
considered an absolute daily necessity. Bathing in this country was barely
considered. By the time I finished the thought Mirane was deeply asleep. I
pulled the covers to her chin and tiptoed from the room.
Outside the room, both Sabrine and Gyan were pretending not to listen.
Both looked as if they had not slept in days, which I knew to be true. They
looked at me with intense concern but what specifically gave them such concern
was difficult to discern from their weary faces and their confused thought. Each
had a dozen questions on their tongues but neither spoke.
“All is well.” I said first, a phrase I often used when speaking to those
who have had connections with Mirane. “Last night, Mirane left this house and
on a plan Kyltan, Mirane and I were discussing, Mirane went to the Darung
village. Through great personal strength Mirane did not harm a single person
but convinced the tribe to send a delegation to negotiate a treaty that would
prevent any further attacks. Per usual she acted on her own and there are no
further details to give you. She is resting now.”
“Are you leaving?” Sabrine asked.
“No,” I smiled as reassuringly and jovially as possible as the questions
when what I really felt was just relief. “But I might have to, if I cannot find a
place to bathe.”
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“Are you sure that is a good idea?” she said looking at my wound.
“If you have a place, I‟ll take care of it.”
“Yes, we have a bathing room.” Gyan said. “I built it for clients to steam
but it will allow you a decent bath.” I looked at Gyan and wondered what kind
of a life he had before he ended up in a backwater town like this. It seems this
village was full of men who had urban lives that were sidetracked to marry
Krahan women. “You look surprised.”
“I apologize, I‟m just very grateful.”
“Come,” Gyan patted his wife on the shoulder and led me through the
house to the back steam room. Gyan already had a fire burning in the center of
this beautiful wood room. Light wood benches were built around the fire and
the burning coals. Gyan pulled off his clothes and sat down. I followed suit and
Gyan splashed some water over the coals. The room filled with steam and I
leaned back. If I could not sit in a bath, I could sweat off all this dirt and blood.
We said nothing as more and more steam filled the room. “Too hot for you?”
Gyan asked as he splashed another ladle of water on the coals.
“This is perfect.” I groaned as I leaned against the wall. Gyan tossed me a
clean rag to wipe myself. The filth came off my body. “Can it be hotter?”
“Are you sure?” He asked
“Definitely.” I moaned. “Unless, you are uncomfortable.”
“I can, I can go a little hotter.”
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“This is fine.” I felt so good, the grime of months was coming off me, I
was warmer than I had been since I had left Sian, and for the first time since then,
I felt that I was in a civilized place.
“Sian gets pretty warm, I hear.”
“Have you been?”
“Of course not, the borders are sealed.”
“You would be welcome there.” I smiled.
“What?”
“Your reputation precedes you.”
“My designs are in Sian.”
“Yes, as a young man I gave one to my lover.”
“Mirane?”
I laughed “I have only had the pleasure of seeing my love, Mirane, in a
Gyan dress once. No it was for my first lover, I'radai.”
“A Sian woman?”
“Of course,” I could see a couple of interesting flashes cross Gyan‟s mind.
“Mirane is my first human lover,” I paused at the explicitness of his thoughts.
“Sian is a language that is spoken both verbally and mentally. I do not want to
use the word mind readers but it is not a bad comparison.” Gyan‟s face went
quite pale as we sat naked in this steam and his mind went to the most
outrageous notions of sexual compatibility. I laughed for a moment, “Can you
pass the ladle?”
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“Sure.” I dipped the silver ladle into a bowl of warm water and poured it
over my legs, arms and chest. I wiped myself down and leaned back again.
Neither of us spoke again until the heat finally, overwhelmed Gyan almost an
hour later.
“Please, stay as long as you would like.”
“Don‟t say that, I‟ll be here until summer.”
“Is he in there?” I heard Mirane‟s voice from beyond the steam and that
steady stream of escaping hot air.
“Yes, he is,” I called back and with that Mirane crawled inside the steam
room settling herself next to me.
“Kyltan wants us to translate and negotiate with the Darungs before he
makes a general announcement.”
“I do not speak Darung.”
“Not speaking a language has rarely stopped you from communicating
with anyone.”
“Do you suggest, I violate their thoughts?”
“Are you giving me a hard time? You do that everyday, I‟m surprised you
speak at all.”
Mirane relaxed along the wooden bench and put her head in my lap. I ran
my hand along her chest and cupped one familiar breast. “Are you feeling better
after your rest?”
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“Yes, of course. Are you feeling better after this extended steam. How
hot is it in here?”
“It could be warmer.”
“Is this what it is like in Sian? A giant steam bath.”
“Yes, this is exactly it, we have to learn to speak in our minds because the
steam is so thick we cannot see one another.”
“Now I know you are giving me a hard time.”
“Let me wash your hair.” I said reaching out for her.
“No, Sian is some great vast bathtub, and yes the steam is this thick all the
time perhaps the air is filled with bath bubbles.” With that I pulled over a large
bowl of warm water and dumped it over her head. She sat up sputtering and
shocked.
“What was that?”
“I wanted to see if you could swim, since you promised to go with me.”
Before she could say another word, I kissed her mouth. From then I untangled
her long filthy braid, washed and combed her heavy hair. So much blood, dirt,
ash, and other materials rinsed out for quite awhile before her auburn sheen was
revealed again.
A mark later we emerged from Sabrine‟s house freshly dressed and
brushed. We looked like new people. Mirane wore her clean black travel
leggings, freshly brushed boots that covered her knees, a clean white shirt and a
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Sian styled vest I had purchased for her several years ago. Her damp hair was
pulled back in a long braid that bounced on her shoulder and down her breast. I
was wearing a similarly simple pair of black leggings, boots, and white shirt but
with a more elegant Sian coat embroidered with Hysyl threads. My very long
straight hair hung down my back unknotted or adorned. Even that seemed too
elaborate for this place where the signs of battle were still obvious and the mud
sucked at my boots.
We strode across the muddy ground in step. I can still picture us walking
so purposefully, so confidently that those who saw us thought better of
distracting us. I remember thinking that although I had walked by her side for
years this was the first time I was truly walking at her side, as a partner. I
wondered about those Darungs in the common house, waiting for Mirane to
return, waiting to know if she was going to keep her promise, waiting to know if
they were to die or even just waiting to know what was in store for them.
Kyltan stood at the front door, arms were crossed on his chest, looking at
nothing in particular.
“Good day,” I offered at our approach. Despite our rather difficult first
introduction I found myself liking Kyltan more and more with each subsequent
meeting. He was a man of decided loyalty and a profound sense of duty. Even
while he was arresting me I could clearly read that it was a source of great
conflict in him to do so and if it had not appeared so clearly in the law he would
have tossed Larken out on his ass.
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“It is,” he paused, “A day.” He looked to be a man at the end of his
resources. “What am I going to do with these people?” Kyltan nodded his head
into the common house.
“You are going to let them change Krahan history.” Mirane said with
more surety than she felt.
“I know this seemed like a workable solution.”
“We make this work or we all kill one another today or another day.”
“Let‟s make this work then,” I said and wrapped my arm around Mirane.
She did not recoil as she may have before. She had rules to affection, never when
she was on a mission, never when her body went hard and her face
expressionless. But she did not stop me. She brushed her fingertips across my
own and turned and smiled.
Inside the room it seemed as if we had quite a Darung gathering. Uime,
Caliopp and Miysh were sitting in the far corner of the room. Caliopp and
Miysh were speaking in hushed tones that fell silent when we entered the room.
Scraszt sat with the young men she had brought back with her, as well as, the
other prisoners from the raid. In total there were a dozen, an even dozen.
Mirane and I looked them over. I saw how tired and frightened they looked, if
the rest of the tribe looked half so starved as these it was no wonder they had
fallen to stealing. Mirane looked at them with far fiercer eyes. They disgusted
and angered her. She pushed it down inside her and strode forward with a look
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of conciliation and welcoming. Kyltan and I fell into step behind her. Her eyes
did not let the men move, her eyes caught them and kept them just as securely as
the guards outside the room. She stood in front of them, poised to speak, to say
something profound, but not words struck her tongue and she stood there
staring at them and they at her.
Slowly, and very tentatively, one of the Darungs stood. His face was
intelligent and handsome. He had his long rough hair pulled in back in a leather
thong, his beard curled close to his face, and his eyes glowed blue. His eyes were
filled with fear, daring, strength, and hope and those eyes met Mirane‟s. They
did not leave hers as he stood. For all he knew she could have strode two steps
and sliced him through, so even though the others crouched on the ground and
sank into their chairs, this man stood.
“Muanuq, prau bay Grythpunt.” The young man spoke only Darung and
addressed Mirane with great respect and used the respectful nominal Muanuq,
reserved for the most elderly and revered crones of their society. Mirane stood
taller and the young man, named Grythpunt35 breathed easier.
“Prau baya Mirane, by huarth Yun Jimerateal I Tearisian, e by Lord
Kyltan.” She introduced each of us and then spoke a few words I did not
understand before she translated.
“This man is Grythpunt, he has his muanuq‟s permission to speak and
negotiate for the tribe. He understands that he will be negotiating with both
35
His name means Infidel Slayer
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Lord Kyltan and the village and he is pleased that a great Prince of Sian will be
mediating the process. I will translate for as long as necessary.”
“You agreed to all of that?‟
“What else is there to say, there are no other options. These men can
chose to negotiate with us or they can choose to die. Grythpunt knows that, all
of these men and women know that.”
“So what happens now?” Kyltan asked. Mirane flashed an angry look at
Kyltan.
“Now it is time to begin, make arrangements for their quartering in finer
places than this room, if you feel that you can get the village to agree to this plan
you might ask for volunteers, if you get no support well then inform them as to
where they will housed.”
“If I get no support, what is the point of this?”
“I am not the woman to ask.” Mirane looked at him, I had not noticed that
he was shorter than she and she used that advantage to make him stand taller.
“You need to convince the villagers this is the best way, you need to negotiate a
treaty that prevents raids from ever happening again and gives both Krahan and
the Darungs a feeling that it has brokered the superior side of the deal. I cannot
do that. You must do that. Do not ask me what is next.”
Kyltan stood up taller and looked at her. At first his eyes saw her as a
petulant child but his mind had no vision of her to match, he could only recall
how bright she was, how shining, a different child than the child that stood in
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front of him. And as these thoughts passed his mind his face went from angry to
respectful. He stood taller and wasted no more time, he strode forward and
addressed the Darungs. Mirane and I stepped forward, Mirane translated and I
listened. We had begun.
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Village Peace
Later that night, Kyltan, Mirane and I stood on a makeshift dais and
Kyltan addressed the assembled village. Mirane looked out across the crowd
and said nothing. Then she turned her attention to Kyltan, who began to speak.
“Four nights ago, this village was brutally attacked by a Darung raiding
party, as everyone here knows, it was not the first time and it was not the first
village. And nobody here wants to be told how very fortunate and blessed we
were that not one person, not one man, woman or child in this village was
injured, not one house damaged. Everybody here knows exactly why and to
whom we owe our lives.” Kyltan watched the crowd and gave it a steely stare.
“I do not need to tell you that we owe our lives to our own Mirane Damaskaya
and to her consort Xylvan Jimareteal. But we are not here to discuss them, we
are here to discuss what happens when they are not here. Because they will not
be here to protect us, we need to ensure that this never happens again. There are
three paths ahead of us and you need to decide which one we will follow. First,
let us look back. When this last happened we had a choice to defend ourselves,
to build up our own militias to train, to seek out security but instead we grieved,
we healed, we denied and we forgot. This time a miracle saved us, a coincidence
of time saved us from such losses that shall not happen again. Second, we can
secure this village; we can make it a citadel of strength. Or we can change our
own destiny we can change this now.
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“Many of you know our Mirane, you saw her grow up, and if you were
old enough you remember when she was taken on her wedding night. We
searched for her and we failed to save her. She lived with the Darungs, she
fought and she escaped. And since then she has dedicated her life to seeing that
what happened to her never happen to another village, to another young bride.
God brought her back to us in time to prevent it from happening to us, do not
doubt that. She, a woman who hates these people to the very core of her soul has
given us the opportunity to make the choice of a lifetime. She rode out in the
night, her lover dying in this village, she left and she offered the Darungs that
choice. They could die on her blade or they could change their destiny.
“And so tonight we change our future, they change their future and if we
can work together we all benefit.”
“I know there are those of you tonight, those who have lost family,
friends, loved ones who will be horrified by my next suggestion. But we cannot
look to the past with this, we may be the first to ever do this. I have every
intention of entering into official and legal negotiations with the representatives
behind me to establish a long-term trade treaty with the Darungs. “
When Kyltan finished there was a silence for the briefest moment before a
cacophony of voices rang out.
“Who do you think you are?!” shouted some with an eruption of colorful
explicatives. It soon became clear that the village would not go along with this
quietly or complacently. Did Kyltan believe that they would? Did Mirane? I
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looked at Kyltan, and I could tell by his crestfallen face, that yes, he did. The
idea and nobility of a peace without bloodshed had ensnared Kyltan. If Kyltan
could broker this peace he would be a hero.
“This is one of the most difficult things we will ever do but it is the most
important. Friends, if we do this, we can change the western borderlands, we
can take back land, and we can be safe. We are a proud people with good reason
to be. We grow the best crops, have the most lovely wives and beautiful
children, and have creative artists, strong workers, and good souls. But when
we have to choose between our pride and our lives, we have no choice. That is
what I am putting in front of you today. You may not like it. You may despise it
and me, too. But we have to make it work. This is the time that you can help or
hurt. Anyone who wishes to participate in negotiations needs to speak with me.
“In addition, while all of you are settling your mind on this issue, I wish to
make an additional announcement. Our legal proceedings were interrupted and
I was unable to deliver my judgment regarding Mirane and Xylvan. It is my
verdict that Mirane is not guilty of adultery in this case and I annul the marriage
of Mirane and Larken. Thank you all, for your time.” Kyltan stepped down and
the village erupted into unexpected cheering.
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Sabrine
I remember that day for the incredible transformation that overcame
Krahan that afternoon. The short weeks I had resided there, I saw few others
than her family until our trial. Kyltan‟s proclamation had brought them all out
of their houses and workshops into the square. They clustered in little groups
beneath the dais their minds working to discern their position. I scanned their
minds, shamelessly seeking those who would be most amenable allies and who
would be our most staunch opponents.
Of those who were opposed, there were several motives. The most
serious and damaging to the effort were those who had been in Darung custody
and had felt their torture. This was a different tribe, I hoped that would work in
our favor. Some opponents were merely opposed on principle, I would work on
them but if there were no significant voices among them, they might amount to
nothing. I looked across the square to see the epicenter of the majority of these
thoughts. The opponents were quick to identify one another, the blacksmith that
had been taken with Mirane, an older woman who had lost a daughter, Mirane‟s
twin brothers, her sister Theabe and her husband, and several other villagers
with deep fears and great need for security.
I scanned minds for those most likely to help in this. Gyan and Kyltan
were already speaking with some of their friends. Already visions of trade
success, opened markets, reduced need for security were forming in their minds.
But these two camps had few members. For the most part the village was
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questioning. There were those who were weary of how this would play out,
there were those who had legitimate concerns about this but were tentatively
supportive. And then there were those who were waiting for Mirane. If Mirane,
a woman who bore such horrible scars, a woman who had traded her good life to
fight the Darung could so radically change and accept this treaty than they could
too. This group was considerably larger than any other. I wished that Mirane
could see that, I wished she could see that all she would need to do is speak with
them.
“Mirane, many here are looking to you.”
“I know.” She replied. “I can see them.”
“You must talk with them.”
“No. They will come to me, they need to think, they need to speak among
themselves and come to their on conclusion. They will come to me when they
are ready.”
“Do we have time for that?” I asked her.
“It does not matter.” She replied and then motioned over to the cluster of
men discussing trade and success. “They are going to make this happen. Gyan
will convince Sabrine, Sabrine will lead them to me.”
“That is your family, alone. We must rally this entire village.”
“Don‟t you know?” Mirane asked. “This village is my family.”
I looked around and all over I could see pieces of her family. I could see
her chestnut hair, her eyes, her height, and her smile. The whole village was not
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related, exclusively, by blood, that was clear but in each one of them, I could
sense some relationship, cousin, aunt, husband, brother, parent. The thought
had simply not occurred to me. I had such a close family, a connected and
powerful family that was essentially alone in a metropolis, my brothers,
Jynquille, Juminatwe, and Kyjhime, Helenestra, our half-sister, my mother, her
mother‟s lover‟s grandson, Juminatwe for whom my oldest brother was named
and with whom I have enjoyed a rather illuminating apprenticeship; and our
Gryth father. As my mother was the sole child of my grandmother Helenoise
and a man we do not know. For all the strong memory of family I have built in
these past years, I did not have the family Mirane had. She had this village and I
could count my family on my fingers. The thought left me strangely off set and
discouragingly alone. It strengthened my resolve to return to my homeland with
Mirane. In the meantime, I could only wait for Mirane‟s prediction to come to
pass.
It took a few days but while Kyltan, Gyan, and other Krahanes began to
meet with Liami, Uime and other Darungs those with concerns were talking
among themselves, they slowly came to the consensus that Mirane held their
answers and there was no choice but to speak with her. By an almost unanimous
and unspoken consensus, Sabrine was chosen as their representative.
“Xylvan, Mirane, do you have a moment, could we speak,” Sabrine said to
us one morning after her husband had already left the house.
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“Of course,” as we had been expecting this we were pleasantly surprised
it had happened so soon.
“Please have a seat.” Sabrine twisted her hands and furtively motioned to
us to sit down.
“What is it?” I asked sensing Sabrine‟s anxiety was far more than she was
showing. I tried to scan her thoughts but her mind was screaming, it was more
than unsettled. I reached out to touch her but she was wound so strongly I
thought she might snap.
“I have been asked to speak with you. That is on behalf of some of the
villagers.”
“Please.” Mirane said, uncomfortable with her sister‟s nervousness.
“We are very worried.”
“Worried?”
“Yes, worried, we are very concerned. This is all very bad.” Sabrine
paced back and forth across the room. “Yes, we, they have been trying to learn
as much as they can about what this will mean. We have even tried to speak to
some of the Darung. They, too, have concerns. There are rumors that you are
some sort of a massacrist, that you have killed thousands of people and no one is
strong enough to stand up against you. We worry that the Darung will renege
on these treaty measures and that we will die without any protections.”
Sabrine‟s throat was closed so tightly she could barely speak, she was
sucking in breath but unable to utter a clear word. I stood and wrapped my
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arms around her. Her breathing slowed and she tried to pick up again. “They
believe that Mirane is the only one who can help us, the only one who can
defend us but that soon she will be gone, and they do not know if that is a good
thing or not. They feel that they must choose between the protection of the devil
or the loss of that protection. How can I say any of this? I saw what I saw. I saw
you kill them all and now I see you extend a hand of friendship. I do not know
what to believe, I do not know what to do or think. We are not sheep but we
need guidance, we need to…” Sabrine balled her hands into and out of anxious
fists.
Mirane sat in her chair looking at her sister, wordless. I know now that
she was deeply wounded. Everything she had ever feared about returning
home, about taking on a family and a past had just happened and from whom
she least expected. But she merely steeled herself to deflect her sister‟s
judgments.
“Thank you Sabrine, I see that that was difficult. Although I cannot speak
to all your points at this time, I can to some. This treaty is no easy thing for me to
accept. I strongly believe that once it is signed it will be binding and I believe the
Darung will work to spread them through the western expanse. Is this how it
will work? I do not know, but I do know that the Darung are starving in the
expanse, they are watching their wives and children die every day. Whether
there are rumors about me and murder and blood, I cannot say what they
imagine but I do know that not one of them is unaware of the very real danger of
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death by starvation that was days away for some of them, not now. If they are
here out of fear, if they attacked us, if they are our blood enemies, I have no
doubt, but they are here to create a binding treaty and save their lives. If we save
their lives we save our own. Go to your friends; tell them that tell them to pray
to God for guidance for that is His domain. This treaty is right for this village.”
Sabrine stood and embraced her sister. Mirane froze and did not embrace
her back. “Now if you will excuse me.” Mirane stood and left the room. I heard
the bolt slide across the inside of the door.
“What is it?” Sabrine said, knowing that she had crossed the line.
“She has much work to be done.” I made her excuses for her and changed
the topic. “If you are willing, I do believe you should have a seat on the treaty
council.”
“But I couldn‟t, I am a mother, I have…”
“Your voice is needed at that table.” I looked into her eyes. I left her no
doubt as to the veracity of that statement.
“Alright, then.” Sabrine accepted the position.
“Alright then.”
I did not see Mirane again for several hours.
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Negotiations
Representatives of Krahan met for days talking with other villagers and
compiling a list of tradable goods and their expectations of the Darung. The
representatives of the Darung did the same. Within just a few days we
assembled in the common house around a cluster of tables. Mirane and I sat in
as a type of mediator position between each side. Kyltan, Sabrine, and Gyan sat
to our left. Darran, one of the most prosperous of the landowners and Jeddahn,
captain of the Kaira militia sat with the other Krahans comprising our entire
negotiating council. To our right sat Uime and Scraszt whom we had become
acquainted with before the proposal and Shelagh, the Darung wise woman and
her son Hyhban, who had ordered the attack, and a man named Liami who had
nearly killed Xylvan in the raid but who had shown a fairly good head on his
shoulders since.
We sat at our tables for a long time before anyone spoke. I could feel the
thick air and such hostility it was difficult to bear. Finally Shelagh, a woman
with remarkable grace for her advanced age stood. All at her table deferred to
her, and I knew that she was the one who had met Mirane that morning. “Before
we begin these negotiations, I would like to thank the people of Krahan for so
honorably treating our dead. It is a sign that we are among respectful people
whom we can negotiate.” None of the Darung had learned to speak any Gryth
and so I understood her meaning if not her words, Mirane translated them into
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her mother tongue. Shelagh sat down. That may have been the most reasonable
thing that was said that day. When Shelagh sat her son Hyhban stood up and
began to enumerate their expectations.
I could feel the Krahans becoming more and more shocked the longer he
spoke. Although they had a list equally outrageous they were deeply affronted
at his audacity. I listened, they shouted at one another and Mirane translated for
the better part of the morning until one by one exasperated members of the
counsel left their seats and left the proceedings.
“And so it is just you and I, now.” Mirane said watching her patient and
generous Gyan leave.
“They will return. Each believes that they will have maintain the upper
hand by having the power to walk away.” I had felt it in each one of them,
except perhaps Gyan who had been the last to leave.
“Ridiculous.” Mirane laughed.
“In the long term, yes.” I looked at her and thought, that is what you do and
you have always won, until now.
“Will anyone get what they want?”
“Of course, but nothing like what they are asking for.” I replied.
“So we retire?” Mirane‟s voice was hopeful but she knew it had just
begun.
“Now we build.”
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When we gathered the next morning, having convinced them all of the
importance of these negotiations and of the prestige staying would give them,
we returned to the common house. Mirane and I were deliberately the last to
arrive. We had hoped that if they had some time alone they might begin to
makes connections. Instead they all stood outside the common house.
“Let us go inside,” I said solemnly.
“We cannot.” Kyltan said pulling on one of the immense beams nailed
firmly to the common house doors. The barkeep circled around with Mirane‟s
brothers, the blacksmith, and the tanner behind him.
“I own this building, I will not permit this to happen in it.”
Kyltan stepped forward, “Grilliam, we have a contract to use this building
for official business.”
“I am severing that contract.” Grilliam responded and turned with the
other men and left.
“And what shall we do?” Gyan asked.
“We shall force it open,” Kyltan was humiliated and infuriated. He did
not appreciate his authority being so blatantly undermined.
“We shall resume this afternoon.” Xylvan said, allowing Kyltan to storm
after Grilliam. “Mirane, I shall follow him.”
Mirane stood alone with the Darungs. They eyed her fearfully and
suspiciously. Some had seen what she had done here, while others feared mere
legends and shadows of her. I can see her now, her body smaller than all but the
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wise woman‟s, her auburn hair rolling down her back, her breathtakingly
beautiful face pretending not to know that they hated her, feared her. And then
the old woman came to her.
“Slyuisk,” she said, and Mirane turned a shade of crimson fury no one
should have to see.
“I shall kill you for that.” Mirane coldly drew her sword and walked
towards the woman.
“My mistake, please forgive me. It would do no good to kill me, it would
harm your treaty.” The woman looked at Mirane as seriously and dangerously as
Mirane looked at her. Mirane held the sword but the woman held everything
else and Mirane had so much more to lose.
With all the strength she had in her she spoke slowly, “I forgive you, do
not make that mistake again.”
“Lady, please, I believe we have the great round tent with us, am I not
mistaken that you might know how to assist us in its erection.”
“I could be instructed,” Mirane answered.
“It shall give us a place to meet, if your common house remains unusable.
Mirane, Shelagh and Hyhban went to the Darung camp and unpacked the
enormous tent silks and poles. Over the next mark the three worked to set it in
the village square. Shelagh watched her so carefully and when the last of the
stakes were pounded into the ground, Shelagh grabbed Mirane‟s wrist very
fiercely.
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“Woman,” she said, “You must know, I know what you are, and I know
who you are. I am no young man spooked by legends. I know a story from the
truth. I know what it is to be a red skirt, I know what it is to be trained and
used.”
“I have misunderstood you, Lady, I shall return you to your home.”
Mirane‟s sense of honor flared in her.
“Home, I have no home. I learned the lesson you learned. A woman is
made great by the blood that she sheds. The blood shed from knives across her
bones,” Shelah traced her finger on the scars along Mirane‟s arms. “From the
blood she sheds of her maidenhead,” Shelagh‟s eyes went to Mirane‟s crotch.
“From the blood she sheds in childbirth and the sons that she bears. And from
the blood she sheds of others.”
“You understand nothing.” Mirane was deeply disturbed by the woman‟s
words. Mirane did not believe that. Mirane whipped her hand away from the
woman. That was no way to live. Mirane stood and stalked off to Sabrine‟s. She
told herself again and again, that she was no blood shedder, no defiler or
murderer. But she was and she knew it. She was a mercenary, a warrior, a
fighter, and a sword drenched in blood.
She stopped where she was and looked around the village.
She did not defile the village with the idea that men had had her or that
she had chosen to live by their rape than die by their sword. She defiled it with
blood she shed and she haunted it with her own army of ghosts. Mirane looked
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to the sky and tried to feel her god. “I do not wish to live this life,” she
whispered.
“You do not have to.” I said, not knowing what she meant. She looked at
me for a moment, a long moment.
“You are right.” I strange look I had never seen before washed over her
face.
“I am?”
“We must finish this. Then we retire.”
“Retire?” I blurted.
“I believe that we should.”
“But your work?.”
“And if we succeed here, it will be done.”
“We will succeed.” I was never more determined to succeed in my entire
life.
My enthusiasm saw the next three days of painstaking negotiations.
Mirane translated and more and more frustration levels rose. I could not see the
problem until is had gone too far.
“Mirane,” Darran the farmer, pulled her aside, after the third day. “May I
speak to you for a moment”
Secrets and Illusions 407
“Of course,” Mirane pulled her skirt around her and led him off away
from the tent. “I have a few ideas about getting the…” Before she could finish
her sentence, he stopped her.
“Yes I‟m sure that you do, but please listen to me, I am a honest man, I
cannot help but speak the truth as I see it.” He paused.
“Yes, that is why Kyltan recommended you for this.”
“Kyltan asked me because he knew he needed my goods to make it
happen.” Darran smiled like she was child who needed to have it made clear for
her. I was around at your birth, I was at your wedding. I was at your trial. I
know what these people did to you.” Mirane narrowed her eyes. People had
short memories.
“Everyone here thinks they know.”
“What I‟m saying is that we cannot have you translate for them, they
cannot trust us and we cannot trust them if we cannot trust you.”
“There is no one else who speaks both languages.”
“Your prince does. He sees what we all see, he can share the images with
us all, he has already started to do so.”
“So he asked you to speak with me.” Mirane made herself taller and
formidable.
“Do not get defensive young one, I‟m speaking to you on my own. I do
not think your prince would appreciate what I‟m saying.”
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“You are right, Darran, what are you saying?” I said neither of them had
seen me follow them.
“I am saying that Mirane is jeopardizing this entire enterprise.”
“She is the one who started this entire enterprise.”
“Well, it is time to bring it to the real negotiators, time to make it happen.”
“Nothing will happen without her, without her there is nothing.”
“Do not take this the wrong way, I know you think she hangs the moon
but she does not. We can let her stay and obliterate all we have done or she can
excuse herself and this treaty can happen.”
“If you do not take her, you do not have me.”
“You have value and skills. We need you.” Darran said looking me in the
eye. “You have more education and ability than ten of us. We know that. We
cannot make this deal.”
“I‟m walking out on this.” I said.
“No, you are not!” Mirane turned her back on Darran, “You need to be in
there, if you can translate, I can absent myself.” Mirane looked at me with tired
eyes. No bright charming smile spoke to me of her better plan. No quick wink
showed me that she was about to turn around and teach this man respect. “I
hope you all do better without me.” It is all she said before she left us.
“Hey, she‟s still yours to sweaven.” Darran had such little regard for
Mirane. Before I quite knew what I was doing, I had rolled my hand into a fist
and swung it across his jaw line. He dropped like a stone.
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“She is a leader, you are a shit hole.” I did not think I had the phrasing
quite right but I passed him an image, as he tried to stand, that he would not
soon forget.
Negotiations resumed without Mirane. I wished that I had been more
surprised to find them more successful. A palpable fear had vanished, a hard
tension no longer reverberated through the air. I joined her in the evenings and
nuzzled against her skin and her body. I would kiss her and stroke her head as
we fell asleep. She asked no questions and I was just happy to be with her.
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Veilish
“We are meeting your parents‟ for breakfast.” I reminded her as she
dressed. Her mind was elsewhere and she did not hear me.
“Of course.” She replied as absent-mindedly. Then she sprang awake.
“What are we doing today?”
“We are expected at your parents‟ for breakfast.” I repeated.
“Yes, but this day of all days.”
“I had not thought. We did not observe Candlenight or Rumine.”
“But, Veilish, we have always observed.” She was right, Veilish was the
day she had found my God and it was important to her. Of course we always
had to improvise our worship as so many of its traditions could not be done.
“And what do you wish to do? I cannot see us setting up for a day of
prayer in the village center.”
“Perhaps not.” Mirane had not spoken of her conversion to her parents or
family, as far as I knew. “We have always made a place for ourselves in the
woods, away from eyes before.”
“We have always tried.” Thoughts of a Sian Veilish filled me with a deep
sense of connection that I have missed. I would not trade a Veilish with Mirane
for a lifetime of those with my family and the court but there is something about
the city stopping all commerce and occupation, casting off their lives, their
jewels, their finery and gathering in all parts of the city irregardless of station
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and remembering that we are equal. Remembering that all the possessions that
shape our lives every day of the year are meaningless and we are barely flesh,
that we are part of the Holy God. There is nothing like a Sian Veilish. Of course,
saying that your flesh means nothing is far easier in the warm dry winter of
home than it is in the depth of a Gryth winter. Regardless, I promised myself
that our next Veilish would be in Sian and she could see and experience what a
hundred thousand prayerful voices sounded like on the gentle winds of Lake
Furnian, with a hundred thousand swaying bodies.
“It is snowing.” She said and I looked out the window to see that it was
coming down quite quickly.
“We shall make time, we shall find a glen in the woods and we shall pray,
or we shall do it here. We shall celebrate.” I said, kissing her. I pulled my winter
cape over my shoulders and the hood over my head. I had not yet shaken my
aversion to the snow. “I will see you tonight.” I kissed her again and made for
the door.
In my previous life, the life I had before Mirane and her quest, I had
classes each day, appointments with civilized people, trysts, social events and a
life very far removed from forest survival and dangerous territories. I had never
even spent a single night outside. When my mother suggested I take a trip to my
father‟s homeland I had expected to find a strange and undeveloped place where
certain comforts had to be sacrificed. At that time I could not have cared for such
a thing. I was a young man with a broken heart. I could not have thought I
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would have not returned at all, that I would have become embroiled in regional
politics and a one-woman guerilla war. And after I had spent the last five years
in this strange world Mirane had around herself, this war so removed from the
sophisticated Sian world I had known. I found it difficult to conform again to a
schedule, a way of composing oneself towards business, the way in which I had
grown through adolescence.
My homesickness grew greater each day I spent in this village. That it
was Veilish and I was so far from home only further strengthened my resolve to
complete this treaty. I could, as Mirane said, bring an end to this war. For the
first time since I was small, I sensed that my mother would be pleased. I walked
a little taller, I took a longer stride and felt as if I were unconquerable. This
feeling lasted until the moment I opened the tent flap and saw ten sets of eyes
glaring at each other ready to give it all up, again.
It was time to work.
I returned that evening exhausted but looking forward to our spiritual
retreat. I found Mirane in Sabrine‟s kitchen polishing her sword with a
compound Sabrine had for her silver. Sabrine‟s kitchen was as clean and as
modern as one could expect this far away from the capital. She had an inlaid
wood floor, stone hearth, and stone sink. Her furnishings were polished cherry
with glass fronts. Being in Sabrine‟s kitchen was the very picture of domesticity.
To see Mirane in Sabrine‟s kitchen was difficult to reconcile. She was
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anachronistic. Her body was slick with sweat, her traveling clothes were
drenched in it, as well. She was sweat encrusted in dirt. She had been training
all day, it was clear. I think she must have been giving lessons, too. She looked
serious and practice blades were piled up on the cherry dining table. I
sympathized with Sabrine but her sister never whispered a word, she would
simply pick them up and stack them neatly in the corner of our room if they
were in her way. I thought of all the people in this village, Sabrine and Gyan
would be the happiest to visit Sian. Of anyone, including my love, they would
be the most adaptable.
“Hello,” she greeted me with pleasure and weariness.
“Hello,” I answered. “I have not seen you all day.”
“I have been very busy. I did not think to check on you.” Mirane did not
think, I simply may have missed her. “Did you need me?”
“No, we did manage just fine.”
“And what does that mean?”
“It means we will be looking at a final treaty in the next day or two, I
would say. There is no point on which they could possibly clash, remaining”
“Excellent.” She kissed me and squeezed my hand. “I was equally
successful. I have secured Gyan‟s steam room for our Veilish.”
“A steamroom?” Veilish was always outside.
“A steamroom will offer us, privacy and warmth. We would be able to
express another aspect of Veilish, if that is acceptable.” Naturally, Mirane had
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read the Veshix as comprehensively as I, even if she had not been schooled in it.
She understood the meaning and importance associated with such things. “I
could not think of anything to oppose it.”
“No, neither can I.” I smiled and drew her to me. “Are we to be
undisturbed then?”
“Yes, I have told them, we have a marathon session of lovemaking ahead
of us.”
“And they said?”
“They rolled their eyes.”
That night, after much of the village had retired, Mirane and I slipped into
the steam room. We built the fire and filled the room with heat and warmth.
When it was warm enough, we disrobed and lay across the wooden floor,
holding hands. For the next hour we recited Veilish prayers and poems feeling
our own spirits reuniting with the greater spirit of God. Certainly no Sian has
failed to feel that in themselves and in those hours we too remembered our souls.
When we had felt our prayers run through and felt the intensity diminish we
smothered the fire and began to redress.
“We saw what you were doing!” Samyuel came into the steam room
suddenly.
Mirane pulled on one of my tunics and I casually asked him, “And what
did you see?”
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“You know,” he spat, “my brother has gone to get Larken.”
“And what did you see that requires Larken?” Mirane‟s voice was cold
and dangerous. Had I not been equally angry I would have feared that voice.
“The two of you, naked, writhing.” The man could barely speak and his
fury had blinded him. “Larken is coming. Dad is coming!” He said.
I remember how she looked. Her long chestnut hair was loose and damp
around her. She was dressed in my Sian tunic, which hung loosely about her.
She had a glow or sensual and spiritual pleasure emanating from her skin. She
looked the least like the Mirane I met five years ago than she had at any time
since. And despite that her eyes were unmistakingly those of the warrior she so
obviously was.
“Samuel Damaskoi, I‟m going to say this to you clearly, because it seems
you need it explained to you. I am not married to Larken and I am free to do as I
wish with whomever I wish.”
“You are not free. You may not! None of us are free and you are not free
to ruin the sweaven horrible lives we already live. You destroy our homes our
families, everything!”
“Stop!” I said and his hand went to my chest, grabbing my shirt and
pulling it around my throat.
“You stop!” he said. The man emanated hatred and fear. His whole body
vibrated with enmity. His mind was filled with so many tangled ropes I could
not separate them.
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“I did not steal her.” I said pulling on one tightly wound strand of
thoughts.
“We did not invade this village.” Mirane took my cue and softened her
voice.
“Do not patronize me, whore.” Sam said.
“Do not challenge me,” she steeled her voice and stepped forward. “I
have beaten you once, I have beaten you a hundred times.”
“That is it, is it not? What can Mirane do to make this all about her?” His
voice was less furious but he was lying, he was goading her to keep her from the
learning the truth his own mind kept secret.
Amach, Larken and Jillhue arrived as the two of them attempt to stare
each other down.
“What is this about?” asked Larken trying to glean something from the
scene.
“I saw your wife and this man.” Before he could finish the sentence
Larken looked at the three of us.
“She is not my wife. Kyltan said it in front of the village.”
“So you relinquish her like that?” Sam turned his tongue and his anger
onto Larken.
“Yes, I do. I prayed, traveled, tracked, searched and survived for her for
almost ten years for a woman who did not want any of those things from me. I
cannot love her any more.”
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“After all we did for you?” Sam shouted.
“What did we do for him, Sam?” Jillhue said placing his hand on Larken‟s
shoulder, drawing him into an embrace.
“We tracked her, we made you our brother. We changed our lives around
that night.” Sam‟s voice was too angry to be desperate or pleading but there was
some quality in it that made me pity him.
“That is not Mirane‟s fault.” Jillhue said.
“She dishonors everything we did.” Sam turned around and swung his
closed fisted hand at Mirane. Any of us would have taken that blow before we
saw it coming but Mirane had him on the ground, her knee ground into his neck.
Larken watched. Suddenly he felt a sense of relief, understanding and
acceptance. His Mirane was gone, Jillhue had taken him again as his son and he
was still a young man, still able to have the family he dreamed of. This
happened in the same moment Jillhue grabbed Sam by the face and I pulled
Mirane off her brother.
“Stand up!” Jillhue commanded. This quiet man‟s voice roared. He was a
patient man now unable to stand it any longer. “Cannot you see any thing? Can
you not see blessings, can you not see the world?”
“All of this is, what it is, stop fighting it.”
“Stop fighting against what I believed to be wrong.”
“And your sister is what is wrong?”
Secrets and Illusions 418
“By her whoring up and down this country you say she is right. That she
tells our wives to accept dishonor over the loss of their lives, that she tells our
children to hide and not to fight, that she parades around our village, a village of
good people trying to raise good children with her lover, spurning her own
husband. These are not the things I was raised to believe.”
Jillhue and I had a thousand responses but Jillhue just looked at him. And
then Jillhue turned his back.
“She is a hero, isn‟t she?” Amach‟s voice was unexpectedly quiet
compared to his huge body. I had not heard him speak before.
Jillhue nodded his head, Larken met Amach‟s eyes and we could see his
agreement there. “Sam we have been talking this fight for too long. Let us get
out of the way so that those who actually fight for it and can fight it, can win it.”
“So you are on their side?” Sam spat at his brother. Amach stood the full
quarter digit taller he had over Sam and looked down at his brother.
“We need to back down, Sam.” He replied in a careful measured way.
Sam and Amach regarded each other for a long time. Sam considered
himself the smarter of the two but Amach the stronger, stronger of body and
Sam suspected stronger of resolve. I insinuated some particularly heroic images
of Mirane into Amach‟s mind to strengthen his stand.
“Amach, you saw them, how can you let her commit such depravity
within our village.”
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“I do not know what I saw.” Amach spoke slowly and looked at this sister
for the first time as she really was. “You do not stand in my judgment, I stand in
yours and when it comes my time to stand before God, I only pray he is
forgiving of the way we have treated you.”
“Thank you, Amach.” Mirane was sincere and she too, finally saw her
brother the way he truly was. She pitied him. He had been too young when it
happened and he had grown up with too much of it.
“Come Sam, we have work to do.” Amach looked at his brother and his
tone left no room for disagreement. The two brothers left the house. Larken and
Jillhue who both seemed relieved to be back in each other‟s grace followed them.
Mirane and I stood alone outside that door and wondered if we would ever win
this war if all of our allies harbored such suspicion and hatred as Sam.
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Negotiations Conclude
Kyltan looked from my face, to Liam‟s face and around the table from
there. “Is that the last issue?”
I nodded, I looked around the table and only smiling faces met my glance.
It had taken over a month to get to this point and so many things had almost
caused it to crumble. And now the most stubborn group of successful
negotiators I had ever met, surrounded me.
“We are done.”
“Done?” Liami turned to me and smiled. He reached out and embraced
me. One month ago this man tried to kill me and now we were friends. “Prince
Xylvan, Thank you.”
“Thank you.”
Generous thank-you‟s and self-congratulations flew around the group of
us.
“I could not be more satisfied.” I told them.
“Shall we review the terms,” Kyltan said looking at suddenly nervous
faces.
“Yes.” Liami said in beginner Gryth. Kyltan handed me the document he
had written.
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“In two nights we shall feast the conclusion of these negotiations. We will
toast this treaty, which will change both this village and this city, but also it will
transform this entire region. The first term is that of mutual protection. None of
the parties: Krahan, Kaira or the Marki Darungs will allow any militia, hunting
party, raiding party, or otherwise organized group to harm Krahan, Kaira or
Marki Darungs. The second term is the dates of exchange, once in the spring and
once in the autumn. The third term is the quantity of exchange. Due to the
unpredictability of crop yield from one year to another these parties have agreed
exchange ten percent of yearly crop and textile yields. The fourth term is in place
to ensure the success of the first three. Krahan and Marki will exchange
members to learn the other‟s ways. These are to be voluntary. Am I correct in
that three Marki families have already volunteered and one has been selected.”
“Yes, that is corrected,” answered Liami.
“Congratulations.”
“Additional terms specify the quality of the exchanged items and in great
detail. Do I need to read these?”
“Let us have all of this final.” Kyltan said and I continued to read. He
read and minor discrepancies were discovered and quickly rectified. And after
nearly five weeks of negotiations we were truly done.
“Congratulations gentlemen, it is finished.”
Another round of self-congratulations circled the group, handshakes and
embraces. I looked around and felt for the first time that I had accomplished
Secrets and Illusions 422
something outside the shadow of my true love. I pushed that thought to the
realm of exhaustion. “Well done,” I said as Uime patted my arm in thanks.
“Well done.”
“Would anyone object if we were to say a word of thank you to our God,”
asked Liami.
“I have no objection,” Kyltan said and we all bowed our head in prayer.
Liami, Uime and the other Darungs knelt on the ground while Kyltan led us in a
general prayer of blessing and thanksgiving. Regardless of the Gryth prayer the
Darungs seemed pleased and I remained quiet. But instead of being unaffected I
felt a real sense of God surrounding me, us. „Go to her,‟ spoke clearly in my
mind. „Go to her.‟ A certain sense of love and immediacy accompanied my
Lord‟s words. Kyltan finished and I said a quick good night.
“Will you join us for a drink?” Kyltan asked.
“No, thank you, I must go.” There was something in my eyes that told
them there was no point in pushing me harder. I slipped out into the cold night
and rushed across the muddy roads to Sabrine‟s house.
Secrets and Illusions 423
Vows
It was nearly midnight when I returned from the negotiations. Despite
the late hour I was invigorated and I burst into Sabrine‟s house nearly forgetting
the beds of sleeping children and tired parents. “Mirane.” I whispered into her
sleeping ear.
“Xylvan!” Mirane sat up to embrace me but I swooped her up and pushed
her back down to the bed. I kissed her. “Xylvan,” she chided touching the wall
behind her to remind me that it was very thin and shared with her sister.
“Let us go for a walk.” I said, leaping up from the bed. I grabbed her
warmest cape and pulled her out of bed. I felt like a very young man. Outside it
was still winter down here even though my body was sure that the heat and sun
should be blasting in already. I wrapped her up in the wool before she could
argue.
In the still air I tried to remain calm. I could barely control myself. In the
silent night I felt a great desire to shout out, to sing or to dance. I should have
been beaten by the tedium and frustrations of those proceedings. “What is it?”
Mirane whispered keeping up with me in stride if not spirit. I thought I heard a
hint of a giggle in her voice. I had heard it before, I was glad it was no stranger
to me.
“I do not know.” I smiled widely and led her further into the woods
behind her parents‟ land. I held her hand while I half danced around her. Soon
we reached the place where Mirane had lit her bonfire and I had found her.
Secrets and Illusions 424
There we both stopped, wordlessly, as if the place had a power of its own. My
exuberance sobered. “Are you sorry I came?” I asked staring at the cold
moonlight off the burnt ground. I was compelled to ask. I braced myself for the
answer.
“No,” she replied genuinely. We looked at one another for a long time
before speaking again.
“I have loved you since the first moment I saw you.” I told her.
“I too, have loved you. You sitting there in that tree in the haunted
Francinian wood. Sitting there like a myth. Did I ever tell you that that was not
the first time I saw you?”
“No, but you are the keeper of secrets.”
“I have told you some, I just told you how I saw you in a village the day
before I saw you in the forest. I told you about the red skirts.”
“Could you have told me more, if you‟d tried? Could you have told me
any of this?” I asked. I stood very close to her and wrapped my arms around
her. I wanted to push her into my heart, into my chest.
“Some, not all. Do you believe I should have?”
“Of course.”
“That is not true, if you knew it before, so much could have been
different.”
“Different would not have been bad.”
“It might have been.”
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“Is it alright that I know, now?”
“No,” she said looking at me with her steely eyes.
I wanted to ask if she hated me, if she wanted to keep herself separate
from me. “Why?”
“I needed you to believe what I told you. I did not want that to change.”
“I should have seen it, your illusion was no different than mine. I should
have been able to see the real you.”
“You saw the real me, you saw everything I wanted you to and you saw
even more than that.” It was still very difficult for her to speak like this.
“But you cut yourself short, you are stronger, warmer, more lovely than I
could have believed, that I love you more now…”
“But you would have left? You tried to leave before.”
“I never want to leave.” I looked into her eyes and was seized with a
great swell of power. “Then I wish to say it now.” I stepped back and held my
hands high in what I hoped would look very dramatic. “I swear now in front of
this woman, in front of God that I shall never leave this woman nor will I ever
cause this woman to leave me.” The air filled with light and Mirane did not
know if it was an illusion or real magic. We believed it was real and it was all we
possessed. “I vow,” I continued, encouraged by the power around me, it fed me
and I knew instinctively it was real. “I vow that I give myself to her and pray
that I deserve her. I give her all I have, my heart, my soul, my name, my
devotion, my love, my flesh, my blood, my bones, my mind, my hand in an
Secrets and Illusions 426
unbreakable bond. May I never walk upon a world without her, may I never
meet the man or woman or the army that would threaten to tear us apart.
Mirane, will you accept me?”
When I finished the air crackled around the two of us. Someone was
listening and remembering what we said. I waited for her response; there was a
sense that more needed to be said. She and I both felt something that needed to
be said before this increasingly demanding crackle would subside.
“I accept.” Mirane‟s response was all that was needed to seal us both to
this covenant.
After she spoke, there was a sudden silence in the wood as if a terrible
noise had been blasting around us and suddenly disappeared in a moment and
we had not noticed it until it was gone.
We looked at one another in that moment of silence. Mirane‟s face
looked joyful for a moment as if she remembered something wonderful. I
reached out to embrace her. “What happened here?” I said.
“I, I felt it all, something magic?”
“I think it is something more divine.”
She looked me straight in the eyes at that moment: a final moment of
connection. And then something changed in her eyes.
Secrets and Illusions 427
Connection
Rapid images began to flow into my mind, strange images that had no
context: a very young and happy looking Larken, a cruel man with a sword, an
old woman with a cup of steaming tea a particular image that filled me with
abject fear; a rape, rape, upon rape upon rape. My body hurt, my skin cracked as
unseen hands punched and cut me. I saw such a kind set of eyes, frightened but
so human and kind. I felt attached and detached at the same moment. I felt free
and shunned, brave and petrified, more furious and hate filled than anyone had
ever felt. I screamed in my mind, screamed in the forest.
Mirane‟s hands reached out to touch me, for a moment her memories
were flooding my senses while she had yet to experience mine. She had told me
some of it, but to feel it as if it were happening to me was both natural for me
and so horribly unnatural. My people could never speak like we did if memories
like these were among us.
Long seconds later, I forced up the shield that had kept me from looking
at her thoughts. As soon as I put it up it violently collapsed. I could not keep
these images out and worse I could not see what images Mirane was receiving. I
was caught in a moment of feeling her past while watching her face as she
experienced mine. It was fortunate that my pampered upbringing had such
minimal pain. My worst pain came from grief, from betrayal and abandonment:
my mother leaving my father to conceive my sister, the death of Chaih
Ujikrealm, and the end of my life with I‟ridai.
Secrets and Illusions 428
For what seemed like centuries we remained their locked in each other‟s
hands holding onto any piece of ourselves. Any attempt to hide thoughts
brought them rushing to the forefront. Lifetimes of pain seared my soul and
branded my body. If we were to ever emerge from this I expected that I would
see scars, if I could survive the wounds themselves.
And when there was no pain to be remembered there was only pleasure
and love that remained and by God‟s mercy we received that in equal measure.
Mirane had known love, she had known triumph and victory. I could feel what
it felt for her to love other men, why she had selected them, I could see what she
saw in them. I could feel her love for me. I knew, unlike men even in my own
home, what it was to feel her love and not just be the object of it. Her love was
different from mine. It was fierce and protective, sure that it would end by her
own actions, and it was a heat inside her that was unspeakable to her. She
believed with her whole soul that if such a love were to be voiced or breached it
would be unstoppable, uncontrolled and uncontrollable. It was hot and jealous
and it tapped into her darkest life and things she was capable of and the things
she had done. It was both the greatest thing about her, as well as, the most
dangerous. She feared it. And she had no reason to believe it had not just been
unleashed.
“What have you done?” Her eyes were filled with anger, her thoughts
screamed in my mind. I pulled her close to me and held her. I tried to impart to
Secrets and Illusions 429
her simple methods we learn as children to close out thoughts but my memories
continued to batter her.
Perhaps had such a gift been given slowly, we might have loved it, both of
us felt such pain. “Think of nothing.” I told her. “Sing a song”
She began to sing, a soft sweet song that children sing. I joined her after
the first verse. I held her close to me, each of us sitting on the cold thawing
ground, our fingers entwined, singing children‟s songs. When she was calm
again, I spoke. She continued to sing.
“Think of nothing. I did not do this. Think of nothing, I do not wish to
know more than you wished to tell me. Think of nothing, sing and listen. I will
teach you everything you need to know to keep everything private.”
“I can hear your thoughts.” She stopped singing to speak. It was the first
time, since it happened, that I heard her voice in my ears and not my mind.
“Yes,”
“You are happy?” Her voice was haunted. Her eyes were lost.
“God, no.” I looked down upon my branded flesh expecting it to be
flayed.
“There are no marks, you did not live it.” She whispered to me. “This is
horrible to you? But you know it more than I could have told it.”
“It is not horrible to me,” I selected my words carefully for I knew she
would be able to detect if I were lying. “I could not have known…” I wanted to
Secrets and Illusions 430
hold her. I wanted her to be as vulnerable as I felt but that was not her way. Her
panic was already dissipating.
“I can see myself.”
“Where?”
“The beginning, from above.”
“Above?”
“When we met.” She smiled.
Mirane began to see more and more of my memories. This was meant as a
gift and part of that gift was to make it easier for her to accept. Over the next
hours, Mirane explored my mind. She selected both memories that I would have
chosen for her, as well as, those I would not have. Moments we had experienced
together gathered fit together in a new complete way, such as the moment she
converted to our faith, or the first time we made love or the first time we
successfully worked together with illusions. Our past became interconnected
and our future became permanently locked together. Only in madness would
we be able to separate. No distance would ever be sufficient to break this.
Dawn lit the sky but we did not move. We sat in this strange glen,
removed from the world still exploring thoughts of the moment and those
deeply hidden. “Fearful of my mother, of my country?”
“I was not even thinking of that.”
“I went looking,”
Secrets and Illusions 431
“It does not seem to matter.”
“I am not afraid.”
“Not now?”
“Do you wish just to tease me, with this new thing?” Mirane closed her
eyes and smiled as she looked through my own mind, “I‟ridai” Among my
people, our closeness of thoughts has a certain etiquette involved. Mirane would
have to learn it, sooner rather than later, but I was inclined to believe she would
not learn it at all.
“I understand that I should not discuss such things with others, but you
are my lover, and I have a certain propriety to such memories. “So, who is
I‟ridai?” Mirane then sat up suddenly, a certain look of modesty or shock upon
her face.
“She was my lover years ago.” I tried to sound casual.
“You have told her of me, before, yes, but I never guessed you loved her
so much.”
“I love you more.” I leaned in to kiss her cheek, to feel her warmth on my
own cheek.
“May I rephrase? I never guessed you loved her so enthusiastically.”
Awkward grayness rose in my face.
“We need not discuss this.”
“Is this not what you wanted?”
“I did not ask for this, I did not cause this.”
Secrets and Illusions 432
“I know. I believe you.” Mirane looked at me. “There are no lies between
us, no secrets any longer. But you wanted it.”
“I wanted this, yes.” I leaned forward and took her mouth to mine. Her
long hair spilled over my hands and I lowered her beautiful head to the ground.
I felt so drawn to her and she could now feel it. I touched her belly and moved
my fingers over its soft skin slowly to her hip. She could see in my mind each
place I wished to touch and how I wanted to touch it. She reached out and
wrapped her hand around my waist to pull me close. Our mouths closed on one
another again. Her every desire was now apparent to me. Everything we had
learned about one another over the five years was heightened and affirmed.
Each kiss shot through both of us.
“Is this what it was like with I‟ridai?”
“No, this is what it is like with my soul mate. This can only be with you.”
I kissed her again. Gently I pried open her nightshirt and revealed her amazing
body. I touched her scars. :Not now, later:
:When you want, maybe never.:
:Someday.:
:Now, I want you:
:I want you.: For the first time her body instructed me how to kiss her and
I took every clue.
:Shall we return to Sabrine‟s?:
:Are your thoughts always so practical?:
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:My thoughts are always of you.:
I made love to her that day. Had we been wed on the first day we had
met and then made love on that day, it could not have been newer or more
exciting than it was on that day of our merged minds.
Afterwards we dressed and returned to the village, already awake and
fearful for us. Mirane told them nothing and they may not have sensed it even
though we radiated the change so brightly I would not have been surprised to
hear from my own family about it.
That day Mirane slept very deeply. I woke before she did and no amount
of gentle shaking roused her. I wondered if she had willed herself to sleep so
solidly or whether her body and mind were so exhausted there was no other
way. I leaned next to her in the narrow bed and stroked her hair. It was rare that
I had the opportunity to study her sleep so closely. I had always loved watching
women sleep. I pushed another stray hair away from her face and the slid in
closer beside her.
:You always enjoy watching women sleep?: Her voice slipped into the
back of my thoughts. She did not open her eyes or change her breathing.
:If I wanted this I was mad.: I thought.
:Did you sleep well?:
:Yes, are you still asleep?:
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:I would like to be: Her sleepy mind purred.
:You are calmer,:
:I am no hysterical woman.:
:I‟d never thought so.:
:Good.:
:Will you wake up today?:
:Is there a reason to?:
:Practice.: I had not meant to say that.
:You are very practical, I wish I had known, there was so much more I
could have had you do.:
:We should practice this.:
:Why?:
:So that some privacy is maintained.:
:For years you have wanted into my thoughts, did you not imagine it
would be reciprocated.:
:I did not imagine you would wish to explore my mind with such vigor.:
I had come to believe that we would never share this between us. For
whatever unnatural reason she had, she was closed to the idea so, perhaps, I
would have thought having it thrust upon her, in what still remained
unexplained circumstances, would have caused to react angrily or frightened.
Perhaps, I expected her to become hysterically enraged, but not my Mirane. She
did not take it in stride but she had had to accept so many worse things in her
Secrets and Illusions 435
life that she could quickly see that this was no evil thing. As we explored it
together she found that, contrary to her fears, she was not revealed to anyone but
me. She could neither receive nor influence the thoughts of others, which even
she felt was a disappointment. This thing was only between us and she saw it
for what it was, a tool, a bond.
Sometimes, I think of her, particularly in those early years, as a maelstrom,
a force unto herself who demanded all or nothing loyalty, things to be done her
way or no way. But she was never that. She often felt that she was alone and
that if things could not be done her way than she would best do them herself, but
she was neither inflexibly stubborn nor furious of temper. Thus she took to this
new gift with more alacrity and acceptance than I had expected.
:You are surprised.: She said to me.
:Surprised?: I asked. I had become lost in my own thoughts. Over the
passed few years, I too, had become used to my own thoughts.
:You are surprised. You thought I would become hysterical.:
:Not exactly.: I evaded, she was very good at this with very little training.
:You hoped I would become hysterical.: She sat up in bed, :Hoped, you
hoped I would become hysterical and you would be the hero.:
:Do I need to watch my every thought?:
“Well, yes, if you have such absurd thoughts you may wish to watch
them.” Mirane, effortlessly, switched from mental to verbal communication and
then subsequently began to laugh uproariously.
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:You will attract the family.:
:Good, I can tell them all about this.: She was quite amused with herself
and my possible humiliation, I said nothing but it was useless, she ridiculed both
my silence and the wounded pride beneath it.
“I‟m leaving, I agreed to meet with Kyltan this afternoon.
“I‟m sorry,” she purred and pulled me back into bed. “Sometime we need
to discuss Sorcha.” She smiled, “when did you have time for that?”
“Sorcha?” I asked only half able to remember her. The image we shared
was of a woman clad in green, she bristled with lazy sensuality. “I met her on
my way here, why?”
“There is something about her, its unclear, isn‟t that strange.” Mirane said,
then probed further.
“I barely remember her at all.” I replied truthfully.
“I am going back to sleep.” Mirane rolled onto her side and nuzzled her
head on my chest.
:Good night.: I said kissing her hair.
:Good night.: she thought and slipped back into sleep.
Secrets and Illusions 437
Festival
The tent that had been a feature in the town center for the last month was
transformed into banquet hall. Long tables were constructed for the night in a
square around the outside with chairs on the inside and the outside. Oil torches
were at each intersection of the tables and they burned bright enough for the
whole room. Pine boughs were hung at all the corner to freshen the closed space.
The warm spring day had gone and the colder winter evening stood at the doors.
As people started to file in they took their seats, villagers and Darung sitting
together reluctantly. Without saying it, they understood that if on this night they
could not find common ground it would all fail. And so they sat Darung and
villager side by side and smiled.
Mirane and I went slowly to the tent already bright and full. Spirits
flowed freely by the sound of the festivities and the increasing volume of the
laughter. “Are you going in now?” inquired a voice behind us.
“Kyltan,” I turned and shook his hand. I smiled to see him and patted him
on the shoulder.
“Xylvan, Mirane,” he gave each of us a respectful nod. He knew that his
village, this night, and everything that saved them was due to us and he owed us
for all of it. I could sense this in him and yet neither Mirane nor I shared that
assessment.
“Yes,”
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“No one has taken your seats.”
“We have seats?” Mirane asked and glad now that she had taken the time to
bathe and dress. Beneath her cloak and hood she was dressed in the long gown
Gyan had made for her and her long chestnut hair fell around her unbound. The
dress, which was so beautiful by itself, was transformed when she wore it. Gyan
had sculpted the dress only for her and that was quite apparent, there was only
one in the room that was its equal, the one he had created for his own wife,
Sabrine. I, too indulged in a little vanity as I would have frequently done in my
mother‟s palace. I wore my hair brushed out to my hips. I also wore a suit Gyan
had made especially for me. It was an amazing hybrid of Gryth and Sian styles.
I consisted of long brocade leggings, a coat to my knees in a matching green
brocade with no trim but long sleeves, lined with Sian Trysal. I was immensely
pleased with it.
“They put you at the head table, everyone wishes to honor you.” Kyltan left
it unsaid that Mirane was only recognized as my consort and as such she would
be allowed to sit with me. I could feel it burn her to be considered no more than a
consort to these people who had once held her as a slave. :Do not unravel our
peace.: I warned and pleaded.
Mirane stood taller, a picture of perfection. Any Sian queen would have
envied her poise and elegance. We entered the tent and removed our cloaks.
Soon all eyes were on us as we proceeded down the center of the room. Any
light in the room touched us and was absorbed into our dark clothing or it
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glinted off of the crystals in Mirane‟s dress. We walked arm in arm as if we were
being presented to my royal mother. No one spoke while we, suddenly their
own royalty, took our seats. We looked at them all, still silent. :What are they be
thinking?: She asked. She had not yet learned to read others thoughts36 as I had.
:They are too stunned to think: I replied.
We took our seats. Then as if to begin the ceremony one of the Darung
stood up and lifted his drink to us. “To Prince Jimareteal Xylvan Queensrealm
Tearisia! Wars between our people have gone on for more generations than we
have family and friends in front of us, and yet this man‟s leadership has brought
us to peace,” and by way of aside, “and to a very lucrative trade contract. To
Prince Jimatreteal.”
“To Prince Xylvan!” everyone shouted. After that the drinking continued
and so did the conversations. The noise level in the tent and also the
temperature continued to rise. After a short while several people left the tent
only to reappear with huge platters of food. These would feed not only the
people in the tent but also those who did not fit inside the walls, who held their
own celebration outside by several huge bonfires.
After dinner, one wall of the tent was raised and the tables were arranged in
a large horseshoe. The platters of food were spread out on the sides and the
delegates prepared for the signing at the far end. All of the villagers, children
36
There has always been a point of contention among Mirane scholars as to whether Mirane’s telepathic
abilities were contained strictly between the two of them or not. One school of thought suggests that she
secretly develops a powerful sense of others thoughts and a strong shield but is never willing to allow any
one other than Xylvan into her thoughts while many claim that she never learned to do it at all.
Secrets and Illusions 440
who were up past their bed times and Darungswho had made a special trip to
join the celebration stood between that far table and the bonfire. I stood behind
the table holding myself with the composure and dignity they had come to
expect from me and that this occasion demanded. Beside me stood three
generations of Darung men and women on one side and three generations of
Krahan men and women. Mirane stood in front of the table with her parents,
none of them were asked to represent the village. The representatives of village
stood nearby; Gyan, Kyltan, Sabrine and the others.
“Tonight your villages have taken the first steps to a new border. You are
the first, but by no means will you be the last. You all stand to gain great wealth
and influence by what you do here. Already the power of your names on this
paper is greater than anywhere else.” I spoke clearly and simply so my words
would impact them and so that they would be remembered. It was important
that this generation, this first treaty not fail. In front of me stood, Mirane, the one
woman who still had blood on her mind, blood for an entire people and I knew
that I would have to fight for her. Now I knew the enormity of what had
happened to her and what she was willing to do to make sure it never happened
to anyone else, ever. I took inspiration in the control she had exercised since
bringing them here and though no one saw it or recognized it, she had
contributed to this treaty as much or more than I could have, more than anyone
could have. I looked to her and she was smiling, her beautiful smile matched
with eyes looking at me and only me, told me I was correct.
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“Would the representatives please sign?” I handed them the pen one at a
time and each put his mark to the paper. I waited for them all to sign and then
wrote my own name, Prince Jimareteal of Queensland Tearisia-Xylvan.
And when the last drop of ink was committed to paper, the crowd erupted
with joy. Kyltan came forward with a basket of meat and the Darungs came
forward with a beautiful piece of weaving that was as fine as anything I‟d ever
seen. The two representatives both finely dressed and freshly washed
exchanged token goods to seal the treaty. Once done, the crowd cheered and
only waned in their applause when the musicians softly struck up music.
The village had provided some players as the Darungs had and soon
they were competing. One half-known tune was tossed between each culture
back and forth until everyone knew part of what was played. Similar rythms
and notes enchanted the dancers among each group to stand and perform.
Village dancers shared steps with Darung dancers, and then returned the favor.
The Darungs were far more reserved, as if the dances of this little village were
too wild, but they were willing to try. As a watched I thought I should have
had these artists make the peace, their minds and bodies were already interested
in learning about each other‟s ways. I watched and tried to memorize all the
intricate steps so that I might replay them when I returned home. Ancient
country styles hybridized with each other beautifully and I did not want to be
anything other than a spectator.
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When their Darung friends played solo, the next round, Mirane stood and
walked to the center of the crowd. Her cloak fell to a puddle of fine wool on the
ground. The crystal beads caught the warm firelight and drinks still flowed. The
pain-haunted music began to play, and Mirane‟s once beaten body slowly began
began to move. As each note struck, she fought to regain her life, to reclaim those
years and to build her own bridge back to her family. Despite how much they
knew there was still so much she would never tell them. Somehow she thought,
:let them watch me, let them know that I was there, it was horrifying and
humiliating, and it was constant, it was almost two years of being a Darung thing
and this is what it looked like.:
Her arms shaped themselves into serpents; her hips slowly and sensually
circled and marked time with the exotic rhythm. More and more celebrants
began to watch her. Darungs who ever had any doubt that she was woman from
the north, the fire-haired assassin, had that doubt removed from their minds and
stood in paralyzed terror. Her family stood mouths wide while the daughter
and sister they had not yet reassimulated and did not really know put on her
performance. In their minds when she was taken, she was gone, to some she was
even dead, but this display of Darung culture reminded them that she was not
merely away from them, she was with her captors learning their ways, she was
living a life that was unimaginable to them.
Larken stood in the crowd watching her with no simple thoughts. She
was and had always been a stranger to him. These last years he had created a
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Mirane from his own adolescent memories and had idealized her as a woman of
youth, sweetness, kindness and who loved and longed for him. That was the
woman he had searched for and that had never been the true Mirane. Now that
he had seen her true body, her true love and her true self he was forced to admit
that the memory and woman were two entirely different creatures and he could
hardly see where the real fit into the imagined. And then he knew what he had
to do.
Despite them all, her body kept its undulation with the music and the
musicians grew bolder with the perfection of the dance. They felt blessed to
have such a skilled dancer, all the while, feeling too afraid to stop playing for
her.
I watched her dance and was blind to the thoughts that I should not have
been able to ignore. In her dance were the pain and the pain of telling. This
dance was the closest she would come to telling her village what happened and
as close to telling the Darungs that she had assimilated their culture and could be
more Darung than they if she need to be, that she had survived them and she
had defeated and, ultimately, she had forgiven them, or would before they
would ever. Her dance with its intricate skill did not pretend to be strong; she
was vulnerable in the new way between us. I needed to rescue her. I needed to
feel my arms embrace her and to love her.
When the music wound down, I rushed forward and scooped the woman
up with only one thought on my mind. One thought that everyone in the crowd
Secrets and Illusions 444
could recognize and no one denied. I kissed her in front of them all and the very
drunk crowd cheered. I gave them a nod of finality and she buried her face in my
chest. Together we went to Sabrine‟s house and to the room we had shared since
the battle.
“I did not know you could do that?” I kissed her mouth. Her lips tasted
faintly like salt. They were hotter than her hands; they were hungry and thirsty.
I remember the eagerness in her kiss that night. It reminded me then of our first
kisses, our first months of love making, desperate moments of very young
people finding love for the first time and afraid that it will be, too soon, ripped
away. Neither of us were that young, then, neither of us believed that our love
would last. Whether, at the time, either of us believed it was love at all, I do not
know.
“I can.” She smiled and kissed me.
“I love you. I need you. I have always needed you.” I groaned into her
chest. I kissed her over her heart.
“I think that our lives are about to begin.” Mirane said with a distance and
eeriness to her voice. I looked at her and smiled. There was a feeling of strength
and great hope between us. I often, in my young days believed I could not have
loved her more. Still, now, I remember that night as one when I truly did burn
for her. Even now, I remember that night clearly and perfectly.
“What will your family say?” I laughed for neither of us were concerned
what any one thought of us.
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“I do not know.” Mirane smiled, and said silently, “I do not care.” She
kissed me and then again. To the sounds of drunken festivities and boisterous
partying, she and I, very slowly, made love. Our thoughts, like our bodies,
intimately found one another. Though I had experienced love making with an
active, Sian connection, I found such pleasure in it with Mirane. Her surprise
and wonderment were delicious. I discovered in her the breadth of knowledge
she had at her sexual fingers and I looked beyond that to feel the intensity of
attention and devotion she showed me. We rediscovered each other and
ourselves, as outside, the festivities waned and the light grayed the sky.
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Departure
Mirane cracked her eyes to the sun that crashed into her room. She was
alone in the narrow bed, I was out at the Darung tent. She smiled when I
realized she was awake and peeking into her mind. All my life I had been able to
block people out of my thoughts if I needed to, but now that Mirane could see
inside, I was unable to prevent her. :Good morning:
:Are you getting up?: She heard and wished I could have lingered with
her.
:Yes: she replied, silently, but with reluctance.
:You‟re going to miss it all.: I said
“Get up,” This time the voice was her sister‟s and was accompanied by a
shove. “It‟s late, you do not want to miss it all.” Sabrine said.
“That‟s what Xyl says.” Mirane mumbled.
:Xyl?: I asked.
:Trying something new?: She replied
“Xyl?” Sabrine gave her a quizzical look. The change between Mirane and
I had not gone unnoticed by Mirane‟s observant sister or, for that matter, any one
else.
Mirane wrapped the blanket around her naked body and swung her long
legs over the bed.
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“I do not suppose I need to ask what happened to you last night.” Sabrine
said referring to our quick departure, Mirane‟s cat-like smile and her unabashed
nudity this morning.
“It was a great celebration.” Mirane smiled pulling her under tunic over
her head as her sister tossed her additional clothes.
“Seems to have been.” Sabrine teased.
“I‟m just glad it is all over.” Mirane cast her sister a sideways glance.
Soon she would begin to start a new life.
“I did not know you could dance like that.”
Mirane pulled on her over tunic and stood to straighten out the long skirt.
“I can.” She said this with no shame. Mirane had spent the years since her
capture denying that she felt shame and after that night shedding it like a skin,
and never to feel it again on her bones or her soul. Mirane broke her gaze with
Sabrine and went to the frozen wash-basin to rinse the sleep from her face.
Sabrine grabbed a hairbrush and began to try to disentangle the long chestnut
waves.
“How can you travel and keep all this hair?” Sabrine asked pushing some
of it out of the way. I overheard her and whispered to Mirane, :I love it. Please
do not change an inch of it: “For that matter how does he do it either, his is
worse than yours.”
“He‟s meticulous and religiously vain.” Mirane said aloud to her sister but
I heard it, as well. I am sure she said it for my benefit.
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“He can afford to be vain.” Sabrine said clearly.
“What? Why?” Mirane said neither word, Sabrine‟s matter of fact tone
stunned her.
“He‟s the most beautiful man I‟ve ever seen and a King‟s son, too, from
what I understand. I think he can show a little pride.”
“Good thing he cannot hear you,” Mirane laughed, “You might actually
cause his head to float away with hot air and his own importance.” Once again
her teasing was primarily for my benefit. As I spoke to one of Kyltan‟s very
serious sons, I was hard pressed to remain focused on the matter.
“But surely you agree,” Sabrine said, “you have taken him to you.”
Sabrine may have thought to say something else but she knew the seriousness of
the love between us and did not wish to degrade it. She had such respect for her
sister, now; she never wanted anything or anyone to degrade her again.
:She is going to force me to say something nice about you,: Mirane
whined into my brain like a petulant and adorable child. I appreciated it, Mirane
was rarely so light hearted.
:Then you should, you should gush endearments and your passions.:
:That is what you think!: Mirane laughed in my brain, I do not know if
she did so in front of her sister. :I think, I liked you better when your thoughts
were just as much a mystery as my own.:
:What made you think you were the only one with secrets?:
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:Foolishness, I suppose,: she smiled, she smiled in my mind and it was
every bit as charming and contagious as her true smile. No matter what else
Mirane would be able to do in her whole life and no matter what she ever
accomplished I cannot help but believe that being able to smile directly into
someone‟s brain is the most powerful thing she ever did.
“What are you doing?” Sabrine said pulling a lock of Mirane‟s hair. “You
look dabble-headed.”
“What?”
“Dabble-headed, you are standing there with a stupid grin and your eyes
are off to nowhere. Come on it is time to go.” Now it was my turn to laugh, and
I received a succinctly put command to desist. Sabrine wrapped Mirane in a
beautiful white cape and pulled on one equally lovely herself.
“Thank you.” Mirane said looking at it in the mirror. The two left
together arm and arm.
When they arrived the Darungs were already lined up to leave, the tent
was taken down and the village was almost its formal pastoral self, despite, the
militia lined up with the procession. Mirane walked straight through the
assembled villagers and militia towards me. I caught her glance when another
man called out for her. Immediately, my own defense system activated and I
saw Mirane‟s entire body respond to my fear and anxiety before she had seen the
cause. Her smiling face turned instantly into a mask of strength, her shoulders
Secrets and Illusions 450
drew up and squared, her eyes flashed in the morning sun. :Larken,: I said by
way of warning and disarming. She did not relax.
“Mirane,” her name in Larken‟s voice called to her above the noise of the
parade. He approached her slowly and handed her a single piece of paper.
“What‟s this?”
“Your dissolvent,” He said, adjusting a heavy looking pack on his
shoulder.
“Our dissolvent?” she responded incredulously.
“Yes, I‟m going with the Darungs, if you can do it, so can I.” I could feel a
flash of rage cross Mirane‟s mind, if you can do it, so can I, the same thing!
:Do not kill him.: Was the only think I could think to say and even that did
not seem to be enough.
“It‟s too dangerous.” She said through barely unclenched teeth.
“Maybe, but what have I got here?” He said sadly but without any
remorse.
“I‟m sorry.” She softened but there was no regret in her or sorrow.
“I‟m sorry, too.” Larken leaned forward and kissed his former and my
future wife good-bye. Mirane accepted the kiss and I felt a momentary instance
of feeling for the man, a stray thought of what might have been or a gentle touch
they had shared. The tenderness with which she regarded him in this moment of
parting gave me a moment of jealousy but I pushed it away, hopefully before she
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sensed it. I forced myself to think of this man. He knew that she had chosen me
over him. After the trial no one believed he was her husband, anymore. Maybe
he could become a hero to them by doing this and maybe in the Darung west
there would be adventure and love. “Goodbye, Mirane.”
“Goodbye, Larken.”
Mirane felt Larken draw away and then watched as he fell into the
Darung line. She hoped that he would protect himself and she new he did not
have any inkling of what he was getting involved. She was glad she would have
no occasion to meet him and to hear how the Darung are really good people and
that the red skirts are valuable and educated. He seemed to have forgotten his
own years of pursuit as well and as easily as her pain.
The line moved west and soon all that remained of the Darung was the
family and the dwelling. The Darung man who chose to stay and learn their
ways had one wife and one girl child. He was a man who had shown himself
within these few weeks to be thoughtful but free with his laughter. He was
expressive with his face and hands, his wife was quick witted and friendly, and
his daughter was very enchanting. If this agreement had any chance of success,
this family would be a big part of it.
Mirane pulled her cloak around her tightly to keep out the cold gray of
morning. She felt she should leave, her work was done here and payment made.
Anywhere else, the village would be glad to rid themselves of the fighter and the
Sian illusionist, both of whom made them uncomfortable. Perhaps here they felt
Secrets and Illusions 452
the same way but she prayed they would not ask her to go, she prayed they
would remain afraid of her just long enough that she could leave on her own
terms. The cold continued to seep through her cape. I could feel her thoughts as
I came up behind her.
“Mirane,” I kissed the top of her head and wrapped my arms around her.
“It is done.” Her head rested back just below my chin.
“Yes. I cannot believe it went so far.”
“It has a lot further to go.”
“I hope it can.” Mirane‟s voice was almost empty. She felt very tired and
she did not feel strong enough to accept all this change.
“Do you?” I asked hopeful that this peace could begin to bring her
comfort.
“I will.” Mirane smiled and tried to look hopeful. She felt such a loss
today and despite all the revelry around her she could not celebrate. The lives
around her that were saved she could count and think of their children but there
was something sacrificed within her she had not known was there. Mirane
handed me the paper Larken had given her. “It is my dissolvement.”
“So now you are my Mirane Damaskaya?” I asked, kissing her on the
head.
“Well, in truth, Mirane Vallanishe.” She replied with deliberate
casualness; another name to begin another life.
“What kind of name is Vallanishe?”
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“The name I was born with, it is my family‟s name.”
“Then, soon you shall take my name?” I said proudly.
“And what name is that?”
“Prince Jimerateal Xylvan Myrrk Queensrealm Tearisia.”
:You do not have to wonder: she whispered in my brain. :I will be
marrying you.:
And that was the day I contacted Sian to arrange for us to come to Sian.
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