Blurb:
Eleven summers after Jan-nell the bowdancer
left her daughter Mira-nell with the sisterhood of hunters on the mountain and
came to live with Khrin to raise their son, Bearin, she is called by the
sisterhood to find their origins.
The first clue is a bit of song Jan-nell
learns at the deathbed of the oldest woman in the sisterhood’s village.
Jan-nell and her companions seek the origins of the mysterious women on the
mountain through the verses of a song.
Master hunter Bekar and master trackfinder Chandro
accompany Jan-nell and Bearin on a quest for the lost song that takes them from
their local inn out across the landscape of their world as they meet bee
spinners and kings and risk their lives to achieve their goal.
Excerpt:
Jan-nell
frowned into her tea. “I never did craft the story-song of your history.”
“Well,
that is one of the reasons Leyton sent me down in the middle of hunting. She
wants you to hear Dekla’s gossip before the old woman passes into the winter
snows. Leyton says there is a song that no one has heard.”
“Is
Dekla dying?”
“Not
yet, but she is ill, and at her age, we do not know if this might be the time
the Maker will take her.”
A
hail interrupted their conversation, and they looked up to see young Bearin,
coming across the meadowland with his bow and quiver across his back. Striding
beside him was another tall woman in hunting leathers like Chandro’s, also
bearing a long bow and quiver and something suspended from a cord over her
shoulder and falling behind her back. The woman’s dark hair had been shaved on
one side of her head and hung down to her mid ear on the other side. She moved
with a catlike grace, and young Bearin was making a good show of copying her
agile movements.
Jan-nell stood and
ran to meet Bearin, stopping short of enfolding him in her arms.
“Is
the old woman failing?”
“She
is ill, and Leyton worries that she may pass before she can tell Jan-nell the
gossip from the first mothers about our coming to the mountain.”
“She
wants a story-song then?”
Chandro
nodded again. “She has finally agreed.”
Bekar
bit into a crisp cucumber, relishing the new taste. “Hmm.” Then she turned to
Jan-nell. “I would like to know how we came here and why. I feel there is
something we should all know, but it has been kept from us. We did not have
feasts and music before you and Mira-nell came, or ways to mark our life
passages, except for when we have our first moon and become women or when a few
take their places among the hunters.”
“At
least Mira-nell has that affirmation. She would not get it here.” Jan-nell cast
Khrin a look. “They would be plotting who she should wed by now—if not
preparing the ceremony as we speak.”
Khrin
held up his hands. “It is not my doing. My mother likes weddings and babes.”
Chandro’s
eyes rested on Bearin. “Do they plot who you will wed?” she asked the boy.
“If
I would listen,” he said.
“What?”
Jan-nell turned to him.
“I
do not bother you with their talk. Granddame’s sister has a girl my age that
she thinks is fair.”
“But
she is kin?”
He
shrugged his shoulders. “They do not count kin that far from Granddame.
Besides, though she is fair, she cannot think. What would I have to say to such
a one?”
“There
will be a time where thinking is not what is most in your mind when you look
upon a girl,” Chandro counseled.
Frowning
at the trackfinder, Jan-nell continued. “You have seen her?”
The
boy gave a nod.
“And?”
Bearin
looked confused. “What?”
Khrin
shook his head, grinning “I do not know if your mother is more shocked that she
did not know about this or that she does not know what instructions you have
been given about girls.”
“Well,
it is obvious somebody has been filling his head with something!” Jan-nell
snapped. “I do not wish him to have a houseful of babes before he has explored
the world and found what lies in his heart.”
Bekar
chuckled, and Jan-nell turned her growing anger on the hunter, glaring fiercely
at her.
“Forgive,”
Bekar said. “Be at peace.” She turned to the boy. “Tell us what you have
learned about girls.”
Jan-nell
raised an eyebrow at Bekar’s words.
Bearin
looked up at his teacher. “It depends on the girl. Some are silly though they
may be beautiful. Some are wise though they may look like a goat. Some are
noble and kind, and some are devious and can never be happy no matter how much
is given to them. Some have talents, though they may be in the domestic arts,
while some are clever and strong and know men’s work. Both kinds can work
alongside any man. Girls—women are as diverse as men.”
“And
what of pairings—wedded or not?”
He
shrugged again. “Just as varied.” He looked at every face. “As are families.
Are we not a family around this table?”
“Yes,
we are,” Khrin stated and reached for his mug of tea. He held it up as if to
give a toast.
Bekar
smiled and held up her mug. Bearin hoisted his aloft. Chandro looked at
Jan-nell and raised her mug. Moving her eyes from face to face, Jan-nell
finally raised her mug. “To our family,” Khrin said in firm tones.
They
all drank. When they had replaced their mugs, Khrin asked Bearin another
question. “These pairings? Are they between boys and girls—er, men and women
only?”
“Khrin.”
Jan-nell gave a warning in her tone.
Bekar
leaned away from the table as if to watch what would unfold and allow the boy a
clear view of his mother.
Bearin
did indeed study his mother’s face and then passed his eyes over Chandro and
finally rested them on Khrin, who looked worried. He shot Bekar a glance that
was more question than observation. Bekar nodded once. The boy looked again at
his father’s face. “Be at peace, Father. I know where you go, and I know that
Mother’s heart has not been here but up on the mountain. There is love here,
though, and I feel it from both of you—and from Bekar, who is my mother-kin.
But as for me, I do not know who will capture my heart. I cannot bother now because
there is too much to learn, and I do wish Granddame would stop trying to make a
match for me. I do not think my heart could stay for long with one of these
girls, though I might one day wish to give it.”
Bekar
clapped the boy on the back and dug once more into her mashed parsnips and
prairie hen.
Chandro
cleared her throat. “So, Jan-nell and I will leave on the morrow to go up
mountain to hear old Dekla’s gossip. Will you be coming, Bekar?”
The
hunter shook her head. “I am showing Bearin how to lay traps along the animal
trails. We need to check them on the morrow.”
“How
long will you be gone?” Bearin asked.
Still
thinking about Bearin’s words, Jan-nell struggled back to the topic of her trip
up mountain. “I would think several days.”
Bearin
frowned. “I wish I could travel with you. I would like to meet my sister one
day.”
Bekar
closed her eyes as if she had heard the request before.
Chandro
tried to comfort. “She will soon take her place among the hunters as a
trackfinder in one or two more summers. Perhaps then I will bring her down
mountain.”
The
boy nodded but was not appeased. Bekar put her arm around the boy’s shoulders
and pulled him into the briefest of hugs. “Some day,” she said, and he nodded
again.
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Thanks for stopping by, Janie!
Until next time, take care!
♥ Julie
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