The Cygnet and the Firebird - Patricia A McKillip, ebook
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One-Meguet Vervaine stood at the threshold of Chrysom'sblack tower, swans flying at her back and shoulderand wrists, swans soaring out of her hands. She hadstood so for hours. Dressed in black silk with theCygnet of Ro Holding spanning silver moons on man-tle and tunic, she held the ancient broadsword ofMoro Ro, unsheathed, tip to the floor, guardingagainst stray goose and cottage child's ball and wan-dering butterfly, for within the broad, circular hall thecouncils from the four Holds had gathered to discusstheir differences under the sign of the Cygnet and theformidable eye of Lauro Ro. In Moro Ro's day, thethreshold guards would have faced both chamber andyard, prepared for violence from any direction, notleast from the volatile councils. Meguet, armed bytradition rather than necessity, faced the hall to keepthe sun out of her eyes. She had gathered her longcom-silk hair into a severe braid; her eyes, green ashade lighter than the rose leaves that climbed thewalls of the thousand-year-old tower, kept a calm andcareful watch over the sometimes testy gathering.2 Patricia A. McKUlipMembers of the oldest families in Ro Holding hadmade long, uncomfortable journeys to meet for theHolding Council in a place where, not many weeksbefore, Meguet had found herself raising the swordin her hands to battle for her life. She did not expecttrouble; it had come and gone, but some part of herstill tensed at shadows, at unexpected voices.But only the councilors themselves had providedany excitement, and that was contingent upon suchcomplexities as border taxes. There had been sharpdebate earlier in the day between Hunter Hold andthe Delta over mines in the border mountains, whichhad kept everyone awake on the ninth day of the longcouncil. Now, the heavy late-afternoon light, the pi-geons murmuring in the high windows, and HafBerg's young, pompous, querulous voice maunderingendlessly about sheep, threw a stupor over the hall.Meguet heard a snore from one of the back tables,Sne stifled a yawn. A sudden wind tugged at her lightmantle. The air was a heady mix of brine and sun-steeped roses on the tower vines; it seemed to blowfrom everywhere at once: from past and future, fromunexplored countries where wooden flowers openedon tree boughs to reveal strange, rich spices, andsheep the colors of autumn leaves wandered throughthe hills....She felt herself drifting on the alien wind; a soundbrought her back. The hall was silent; she wonderedif she herself had made some noise. But it was onlyHaf Berg, sitting down at last, working his chair fuss-ily across the flagstones. Lauro Ro watched him im-THE CYGNET AND THE FIREBIRD 3passively. She sat at the crescent dais table, theCygnet flying like a shadow through tarnished mid-night stars on the vast, timeworn banner behind her.Her elegant face was unreadable, her wild dark hairso unnaturally tidy that Meguet suspected Nyx hadbewitched it into submission. The Holder's heir sat ather right, wearing her enigmatic reputation with com-posure- Lauro Ro asked, * 'Will anyone challenge HafBerg's painstaking examination of the problems ofsheep pasturage on the south border of Berg Hold?"There was a daunting note in her voice. Only a pigeonchallenged. Iris, on the Holder's left, consulted a pa-per and whispered to her mother.Rush Yarr sat beside Iris, and Calyx beside Nyx.The two younger sisters, one fair and reclusive, theother dark and distinguished most of the time by ex-traordinary rumors, bore the intense scrutiny of thecouncil members calmly. When Calyx spoke, pearlsand doves did not fall from her lips. When Nyx spoke,toads did not fall, nor did lightning flash. But it hadtaken days for the anticipation to fade.The Holder spoke again. Linden Dacey of WithyHold wished to bring up the matter of... Meguettightened her shoulders, loosened them. A knotburned at the nape of her neck. She shifted slightly,easing some of her weight onto the blade she held.Across the room, the sorceress lifted her eyes at theflash of light.They looked at one another a moment: cousinsbound by blood and by secret, ancient ways. Memo-ries gathered between them in the sunlit air. The4 Patricia A. McKillipswans on the hilt and etched blade in Meguet's handshad taken wing, Nyx had transformed herself frombog-witch into Cygnet's heir so recently that the sor-cery in that hidden time and place beneath their feetmust still be rebounding against the labyrinth stones.The sorceress's eyes, mist-pale in the light, seemedmildly speculative, as if, Meguet thought, she contem-plated turning her cousin into a bat to liven up thetedium. Meguet, returning her attention to the pro-ceedings, half-wished she would.Linden Dacey had brought up the matter of a bor-der feud between Withy Hold and the Delta. A riverhad shifted, or been shifted; the south border, definedfor centuries, was suddenly uncertain ... The greatHold banners swayed and glittered above her head asshe spoke; eyes caught at Meguet. The Blood Fox ofthe Delta prowled on starry pads; one eye glinted as\if thought had flashed through its bright threads. TheGold King of Hunter Hold, the crowned and furioussun, glared out of his prison of night. Meguet, gazingback, felt a sudden chill, as if the face of spun goldthread were alive again and watching.Someone from the Delta interrupted Linden Dacey.There was an interesting squabble on the councilfloor. Old Maharis Kell jerked mid-snore out of hisnap. The Holder let it rage a moment, probably towake everyone up. Then she cut through it in a voicethat must have brought a few cottagers in the outeryard to a dead stop. Rush Yarr slid a hand over hismouth. Calyx, catching a tremor in the air, glanced athim. Rush, Meguet noted, had recovered his sense ofTHE CYGNET AND THE FIREBIRD 5humor?or discovered it, she wasn't sure which, forhe had loved a sorceress who was never home for solong that likely even he didn't remember if he hadone. Calyx had entered the doorless walls of the towerhe had built around himself, and he found her insidehis heart.Linden Dacey, finished finally, yielded debate tothe chastened Delta councilor. Gold streaked sud-denly through a west window. Meguet eyed hershadow, guessed at the time. Another hour. if that...The Delta councilor bit a word in half and was still.Meguet raised her eyes. On the dais, no one breathed.Behind her the yard was soundless. Not a child'sshout, a groaning wagon wheel, an iron blow fromthe smithy, disturbed the sudden, bewitched silence.Meguet stared at Nyx, wondering if, bored or day-dreaming, she had thrown some spell over the coun-cil- But Nyx was entranced by the table, it seemed;she gazed at it, wide-eyed, motionless.Someone had slowed time.In the weird stillness, Meguet heard a footfall inthe grass behind her. She whirled, her heart hammer-ing, and brought the broadsword up in both hands. Aman stood within the tower ring, staring up at thesolitary black tower. The flaring arc of silver from thedoor as the broadsword cut through light startled him;Meguet felt his attention riveted suddenly on her. Inthe brilliant, late light, the stranger cast no shadow.She drew a slow, noiseless breath, tightening herhold on the blade, trapped in a world out of time byhis sorcery and by her peculiar heritage: the sleepless6 Patricia A. McWpcompulsion to guard what lay hidden within the tow-er's heart. The man's face, blurred by the dazzlinglight or perhaps by shifting time, was difficult to see.He seemed a profusion of colors: scarlet, gold, white,dust, blue, silver, that sorted itself out as he moved,crossing the yard with a strong, energetic stride.Tall as she was, Meguet was forced to look up athim. His hair and skin were the same color as thedust on the hem of his red robe and his scuffed yellowboots, as if the parched gold-brown earth of some vastdesert blown constantly through sun-drenched air hadseeped into him. A strange winged animal embroi-dered in white wound itself in and out of the folds ofcloth at his chest. The robe was belted with a curious,intricate weave of silver; silver glinted also at hiswrists beneath his sleeves. A pouch of dark blueleather was slung over his shoulder; another, of dusti/yellow silk, hung beside that. He stopped in front ofMeguet's blade- She saw his face clearly then, as sur-prised by her as she was by him.His eyes flicked over her shoulder at the motionlesshall, then back to her. His broad, spare face wasyoung yet under its weathering; his eyes, a light,glinting blue, were flecked with gold.He said, amazed, "Who are you?"Meguet, abandoned, with only a broadsword toprotect the house against sorcery, found her voice fi-nally. ' 'You are in the house of the Holders of RoHolding. If you have business with the Holder, pre-sent yourself to the Gatekeeper."He glanced behind him at the little turret above theTHE CYGNET AND THE FIREBIRD 7gate, where the Gatekeeper leaned idly against thestones, a motionless figure in household black watch-ing something in the yard. "Him." He turned back."He looks busy." He touched the blade at his chestwith one finger, but did not turn it. He grunted softly,his eyes going back to Meguet. "This is real.""Yes.""Well, what do you expect to do with it? You can'tkeep me out of this tower with a sword. How can youhave the power to see me through shifted time andstill wave that under my nose? Wh...
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