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Chapter 2 Chapter 4
Chapter 3
All was well in the Adhemlenei again, and Flaer, Gyoriing, Zela, Flairé, Flaria, and Menad had all gone north to the Unicornland in the summer. Zela was looking forward to seeing Princess Layalin for the first time in many years; she had not seen her since Flairé was born. Zela was also carrying her fourth child, and it would be born while they were there.
The moment they rode through the gates of the Unicorn castle, at the top of a great hill in the middle of the forest near the mountains, Layalin accosted them.
“Zela! Prince Flaer! Knight Gyoriing! How lovely to see you all! Oh, and are these your children, Zela? How lovely they are!”
“Thank you,” Zela said, smiling. “It’s all their father’s fault.”
“Not true,” said Flaer, grinning back. “Menad has your eyes to perfection.”
Zela rolled her eyes and swatted at her husband as her children dismounted from their horses. Zela got down from Yoeath as smoothly as ever, despite the extra weight she carried. Flaer was there to help her.
Flairé ran to Layalin and gave her a hug – they had heard much about each other, and liked what they heard. Layalin went to the other two and hugged them as well, and they both returned it warmly.
Then Gyoriing swept up the princess in a tight embrace, and she flushed rosy red. Menad looked confused, but Flairé and Flaria looked gleeful – in a good way. Flaer looked at Zela and hugged her shoulders affectionately.
“Well, come inside!” Layalin encouraged them, once she had made her way free of Gyoriing. “You must be tired after riding so far. We have hot baths prepared, and there’s food afterwards.”
“Lead on!” cried little Menad, shrilly. Layalin laughed.
Flairé happened to be around the same age as Princess Kylyralessa, Layalin’s younger sister, and after the deliciously hot bath, he ran into her in the hall.
“Oh! Hello!” she cried fearlessly, seeing him. “You must be my sister’s friend’s son. What’s your name again?”
“I’m Flairé,” replied he, equally fearlessly. “I’m afraid I have no idea who you are.”
“I’m Kylyralessa,” she said, tossing her long, long golden hair. “Please don’t call me Princess, or I’ll have to lock you in the music room.”
“That would be counter-productive,” Flairé grinned, “since all I would do would dance on all your dancing drums until they broke.”
Kylyralessa rolled her eyes. “Well, are you free? Would you like a tour of the castle? I was just coming up here to see you and your sister and brother. Daddy sent me.”
“I would love a tour, but I have to check with Mother.” He turned and ran to his parent’s room. “Mother! Princess Kylyralessa wants to give Flaria and Menad and me a tour. Can we go?”
“Certainly,” answered Flaer. “I’m sure she will get you back in time for supper. Do try to keep out of trouble, hmm?”
“You know me, Father!” Flairé said cheerfully, and then ran back to Kylyralessa, his siblings in tow.
The children ran all over the castle, from top to bottom, with Kylyralessa chattering at them every step of the way. She and Flaria were soon fast friends, and invited her to meet her friends sometime soon as they set out to wander the city around the castle.
“We like to meet at the library in the city and do things. We sew and carve and make music and talk.”
“That sounds lovely!” Flaria said. “We don’t know many people our age in the Moonland city. It doesn’t really bother us, but it must be fascinating to be surrounded by people like that.”
“I guess it is,” Kylyra said thoughtfully.
“So are all your friends girls?” asked Menad. “Do any of them dance like my mother?”
Kylyra thought. “I haven’t seen your mother dance that I can remember. But some of my friends do dance, yes. We sing more, though. And yes, almost all of them are girls.”
“Do any of them fight?” Flairé asked.
Kylyra looked indignant. “Do any of them…?” Then her voice faded out. “Maybe. We don’t talk about that much. Well, we do talk about how noble some of the knights are, but I don’t think any of us actually fight much. But I should check. I don’t actually know.”
“I think more girls should know how to fight,” Flairé said.
“Like your mother, I know,” Kylyra said, sighing. “Actually, my oldest sister knows how to fight. She’s really good. But you wouldn’t think it of her on first sight, because she’s always wearing dresses that are really pretty and not very good for fighting in. I think. I don’t know about fighting.”
“Want to learn?” Flairé invited her.
Kylyra looked at him consideringly for a moment, and then shook her head. “Not really. I’m too busy, and I wouldn’t be very good at it.”
“But you have all the time in the world to learn and perfect it, like singing or sewing, and then you don’t have to rely on guards.”
Kylyra shook her head still. “That’s okay. I’m fine the way I am.”
Then something heavy fell on Flairé.
After some confused and muffled squawks from the squished prince, while his brother capered in excitement, and the girls stood paralyzed in shock and giggles, Flairé managed to push the thing off himself and scramble up.
The thing also scrambled up, and Flairé found himself facing an adult elf with long brown hair, almost completely swathed in a light-woven black cloak. He was breathing heavily.
“Forgive me, my Lords and Ladies,” said the elf, bowing. “I fell from the roof as I was attempting to catch an interloper in my parents’ house. I apologize; I hope you are not hurt?”
“No, not at all,” Flairé said, still blinking quickly in confusion. “Shouldn’t you be chasing this interloper instead of hanging around talking to us?”
“Manners cost nothing, and if I don’t catch that person today, there’s always tomorrow,” said the elf, nodding, and turning and vanishing into an alley on the other side of the street with a swirl of his cloak.
“Wow,” Kylyra said after a moment. “I don’t know who he was, but he was amazing.”
“You’re not worried about the fact that he fell on me?” Flairé said, a little jealously.
“You said you’re fine, right? You look all right to me. Your clothes aren’t even scuffed, really. That’s why I said he’s amazing.”
“Never mind,” Flaria said, with a quick look at her elder brother. “We’ll find out who he was later. Maybe he’ll come up to the castle and say hello. He knew who we were.”
“This is boring,” Menad complained. “Is there a garden around here?”
Kylyra laughed and beckoned them onward.
That night, after the excitement of the day, Flairé was in his bed, staring at the stars through the open window.
A dark shape appeared at the window, and he quickly pretended to be sleeping, watching through half-closed eyes.
A figure slid gracefully through the window and stood tall over him. A low, warm chuckle filled the room. “Good try, lad, but I can tell you’re awake.” The voice was as warm as the chuckle, deep and resonant, and full of laughter.
Flairé sat up, both hands in his lap, outwardly calm but ready to make a lunge for the sword in its scabbard that hung nearby, if necessary. “Who are you and what do you want?”
“I don’t want anything from you, except a chance to talk a little. My name is Tatamkanai; you can call me Tam if you like. In fact, I really would prefer it.”
“Are you the person who fell on me today?” Flairé asked, curious, relaxing a little.
“Good memory, lad. I wanted to apologize again now that I’m not chasing after that… girl.”
“It was a girl?”
“A girl broke into my parents’ house while I was visiting. My mother went to tell the knights, while I chased, and my father stayed behind to guard the house in case someone else came.”
“What did she want?”
Tam wrinkled his forehead; Flairé could dimly see his face in the faint light from outside. “I can’t tell you that. Not yet. But once I gave up the chase, I must admit I refound and followed you, young prince. You’re an intriguing person, young Flairé. Would you like to be friends?”
Flairé pulled an exaggerated skeptical face. “And to tell me that, you break into my place?”
“Yes,” said the shadowy figure.
Flairé thought about that one for a few minutes. “All my father’s training tells me to kick you out with my mother’s training.”
“Not surprising,” said Tam easily.
Flairé looked up and grinned. “But I’m going to go with my intuition, which says you’re awesome and likely an honest and good friend.”
Tam reached out and clapped him on the shoulder; Flairé didn’t flinch. “I thank you for your trust. I’ll show you you’re not wrong.”
“Besides which, I can’t beat you up from a sitting position,” the boy added.
Tam nearly laughed, but managed to clamp down on it. “You’ll be able to, in time. I’ve heard your mother works you hard to become the best at everything.”
Flairé nodded slowly. “It certainly feels like it. But it’s worth it.”
“May I help?”
“Help what? Help me to get stronger?”
“If you’ll let me.”
Flairé paused. “If you’re as trustworthy as I think you are, yes. Call again tomorrow? We can spar.”
“Why wait?” asked Tam. “Night’s only just fallen. You can go without sleep for one night.”
“Absolutely,” Flairé agreed. “I’d like to be able to survive without sleep.”
“Well, then, get dressed, grab your lanc- I mean, sword, your weapon, whatever, and follow me!” Tam swung out the window again as Flairé shot out of bed softly and dressed, heart pounding in excitement. He had no idea what would happen if he followed Tam. But his statement about his intuition was entirely true. He had no proof that Tam was an honest person, and in fact, much evidence to the contrary. But something in his voice told him that he was telling the truth, and that he truly wanted to help him become stronger.
So he buckled on his sword, as quietly as he could since his parents were sleeping in the next room, and slipped out the window as neatly as Tam had slid through it coming in. The wall was sheer white stone, but there were tiny toe-holds between blocks and a drainpipe nearby.
He found Tam waiting for him at the bottom of the wall, still cloaked in black, now hooded. The taller elf nodded once and set off towards the outer wall of the castle.
He sprang up the side of the wall as if climbing a ladder and vaulted with one hand over the top. Flairé scrambled a little less successfully up behind him, hesitated a moment on the top, and then saw that the drop to the ground was not so great.
“He must be very familiar with the castle,” Flairé thought to himself.
Tam led him silently down the steep hill and into the forest. Flairé kept himself relaxed but alert, one hand on his sword. They went under dark pines that would have been deeply shadowed even in the full light of day. Now it was pitch black and not the slightest hint of starlight reached them. Still Tam lead him sure-footedly through the woods, the prince stumbling slightly behind, following only by sound, until they came to a more lightly-wooded area and began going uphill again.
They stopped at last on a flat area on the very bottom slopes of a great mountain, and Tam turned to Flairé. “Well done, lad. You’re a keen night tracker.”
“I-I am?” Flairé asked, oddly pleased by the compliment. His hand was still on his sword.
“Yes, very. And here we are, on the side of the mountain, well away from prying ears and eyes. Shall we spar?”
“What are you wielding?” Flairé asked curiously, eying Tam’s weapon that he had just produced from under his cloak.
“It’s a spring-loaded lance. I’ve made a point of dealing in long, sharp, pointy things. Lances, scythes, long-handled maces, they’re all the same to me. Now I notice you like swords, like your parents.”
“It gives me greater flexibility, I think, even though my range isn’t as good as a lance or a halberd,” Flairé said. “But how on earth does a spring-loaded lance work?”
“When I touch the catch on the haft, the blade springs forward an extra foot. It’s very good for catching things off guard. I’ve saved more than a few damsels – and gentlemen, too – in distress before now.”
“Neat,” Flairé said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Tam’s teeth glinted in the starlight as he grinned. “I wouldn’t want it any other way. Shall we?”
For answer, Flairé drew his sword in a breath, set his feet in the classic defensive opening, and then charged, feinting at the last moment. Tam countered with the haft of his weapon, springing away, and then sliding forward in a counterattack.
Long they battled, while the stars wheeled overhead. Flairé could feel that Tam was stronger and faster than himself, and that he was holding back. He clamped down on the twinge of frustration he felt at that and hurled himself more fully into fighting, giving two horizontal swings and spinning to lend power to a downwards chop. Tam seemed the slightest bit surprised, but defended successfully, launching the head of his lance into the air under Flairé’s right elbow.
The boy twisted away, swinging his sword behind him and changing it to his left hand. He ducked another attack from Tam, and blocked another with his blade, then stabbed forward, meeting empty air.
Tam whirled and ended up behind Flairé. Before the prince could turn and react, he found himself on his back on the ground, with Tam kneeling over him, his lance touching the dirt under his left arm.
“All right,” Flairé said tranquilly, “I guess that’s only to be expected.”
Tam laughed. “You’re fearless.” He got up and helped Flairé up. “That was great fighting, lad. You’ll be the wonder of the Moonland someday.”
“Maybe,” Flairé returned cheerfully, dusting himself off. Tam helped. “Thanks. Now what?” He began to dance to his heartbeat, lilting with his shoulders.
Tam quirked an eyebrow. “Now we get you home before dawn. If your mother finds out I took you out of the castle she’ll have my hide.”
“Do you know my mother?”
Tam shrugged non-committally and flashed a grin at him.
“Well, I knew you’d be a good idea.”
“Wait, what are you talking about?” Flairé asked, some suspicion returning.
Tam laid a hand on his shoulder. “I want to become better myself, and what better way than to take on a pupil? I swear to you, Flairé, that I have no secrets from you – save about that situation earlier today. But ask, and I shall answer to the best of my ability.”
Flairé nodded. Tam had used his name for the first time seriously, and seemed solemn and sincere.
“So… are you a knight?” They began walking.
Tam groaned and rested his face in his hand. “I was afraid you’d ask that. Yes, I am a knight, and a friend of your father’s friend Gyoriing. He’s a bit straight-laced for me, though. In fact, the whole organized knight-hood is too straight-laced for me. That’s why I’m not in the castle.”
“Oh, I see,” Flairé said, nodding. “That explains a lot.”
Tam looked at him anxiously. “It does?”
“You were holding back when we were fighting.”
“I’m older than you, lad.”
“Yes, but my mother’s had me training well-nigh every day until dark since I was… much shorter than I am now. I think I’m pretty good for my age, though.”
“You’re great for your age,” Tam told him. “And you have a great attitude. That’s why I asked to be your friend.”
Flairé looked up with wide, deliberately innocent eyes, and then grinned from ear to ear. “Thanks. You’re not bad to talk to yourself.”
“Oh, get along wi’ ye’,” Tam chuckled, pushing him over, slipping facetiously into a far-north-east accent.
They walked in silence for a while, through the black part of the forest, back up the hill to the castle. The outer wall was too sheer even for Tam to climb, so he led the prince along the wall to a side door, locked – but Tam had a pick, and Flairé looked on with great interest as his new friend jabbed it into the lock and flicked it back and forth. The door came open, and Tam and his black cloak floated through, Flairé a lithe shadow behind.
Flairé went up the wall to his room first, now that he knew the way, and Tam was right behind. The sky was beginning to grow light and he could see where he was going clearly.
Flaria was waiting, sitting up perfectly straight on his bed. When she saw his head appear above the sill, she shot him an unimpressed look and left, her skirts swishing.
“Uh-oh,” Flairé said, clambering in and giving a hand to Tam. Tam pulled himself up and Flairé gasped.
“What’s the matter?” Tam asked, tilting his head. Beneath his long, loose black cloak, he wore a purple tunic with white trim, and the metal parts of his clothes were all of gold. He wore black finger-less gloves on his hands, and his lance was strapped to his back in a peculiar holster that looked as if it would fall off his shoulder any moment, but didn’t. His eyes were a mismatched brown and dark hazel, and they glittered the hollows of his lean face. But above all this, trailing over his face…
“Y-your hair… it’s blue!” Flairé said.
“Oh, that?” Tam said, reach up to push pale blue locks behind his ears to join ruddy chestnut strands. “Actually, it’s brown. I just dyed the front for fun. Looks good, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, actually, it does,” Flairé said in admiration. “Doesn’t it get to be a huge pain after a few years, having to re-dye it every month or so?”
“Yeah, but it gives me an excuse to visit my mother. And besides, it’s not difficult and it looks fantastic.”
Zela came in, followed closely by Flaer. “Oh, Tatamkanai. I should have known.”
“How many times have I told you to call me Tam, m’lady?” Tam asked, bowing.
“Well, you haven’t told me at all in the last century, considering my children have been growing up and you haven’t so much as sent a letter,” Zela retorted.
“Hello, Prince Flaer,” Tam said to Flaer. “How is it with you?”
“I’m very good,” Flaer replied. “And you?” Menad peeked around Flaer’s legs, saw the stranger in the black cloak, and ran.
“Everything’s wicked smooth around here,” Tam said, though he made a strange gesture with his hand that Flairé didn’t recognize, that didn’t look like it matched his words.
Flairé had been looking back and forth, and now he leaned against the wall, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. “So you mean to tell me that you all know each other, have known each other for a long time, and never thought to tell me? And what by stars does ‘wicked smooth’ mean?”
Zela waved a hand. “Oh, Tamkanai wasn’t terribly important to know about, was he?”
“I take offense, m’lady,” Tam responded instantly, grinning. “And ‘wicked smooth’ means ‘fabulous’.”
“Well, it’s time for you to go back to bed, then,” Zela said, shooing her son away from the wall and towards his bed, which Flaria had apparently neatly made a few minutes ago.
“No, let him keep going,” Tam said. “He can take it. He needs to be able to do this as well as dance like a fire.”
“You’re not allowed to tell me how to raise my children,” Zela told him. “You’re not even married.”
“I was a child once,” Tam replied cheerfully.
“A vast age ago,” Zela returned.
“So?” Tam said. “Anyway, let’s ask him what he wants to do.”
“I’m fine, Mother, Father,” Flairé responded. “We were sparring, but I’m fine. Really.”
“I think it will be all right, Zela,” Flaer said.
“Fine,” Zela said. “But if you’re determined to develop the skill to go without sleep, I don’t want to hear any complaining, or see you drifting off.”
“I understand, Mother.”
Flaer looked around. “But I need to find Gyoriing. He’ll want to see Tatamkanai.”
“You’re making me feel old in front of the children,” Tam complained as Flaer and Zela left with a wink and a wave. “I mean, not-children. People my own age. Right?”
“I’m third generation,” Flairé pointed out.
“And what has that to do with your age?” Tam asked, flopping on Flairé’s bed beside him. “Nothing. Age is all in the mind. Your mother’s still as young as you are. She pretends she’s not, but she is.”
Flairé chewed on that one for a while. “Well, let’s go have breakfast, then. I’m hungry.”
“Hey, that’s a great idea!”
And after that day, Tam and Flairé were always in each other’s company, bantering, showing off, and sparring with each other, even in public. Tam seemed to be the kind of person who made things light when they were serious, though he also had perfect self-control and patience, which confused Flaria, who had never associated the two before. Gyoriing was forever chasing the mischievous group – Tam, Flairé, Flaria, and often Kylyra and Menad – trying to get them to behave with a little more dignity, but Tam flat-out refused and ended the discussion by ruffling Gyoriing’s hair, earning him a growl and a reluctant grin from the tall knight.
But Tam was also whole-heartedly earnest and kind, and Flairé admired him all the more when he showed that side of himself.
Flaer and Zela had known Tam for a long time, but never very well. Now they grew to know him as if he were their own brother. Over the weeks, as Zela waited to birth her child, Tam gradually took over Flairé’s physical and philosophical training, and both together served as temporary parents to Flaria and Menad.
The child was born, a strong boy, with black hair like his older siblings, and brown eyes like his mother but darker. The whole family, from Zela and Flaer to Kylyra and Layalin, gathered around him constantly to adore him, except when he was sleeping. Zela and Flaer named him Hciristial, Firegleam, and gave him a silver bracelet with his name on it.
It was late one evening, and Tam was telling the whole family stories. Gyoriing and Layalin had been with them earlier, but had gone off together, Layalin saying she felt tired and Gyoriing saying he would escort her back to her room and then turn in himself.
Tam waved goodbye and went on with his dramatic tale of sea monsters and the giant cat of the land of ice, who had helped him defeat them. “And then, you know, she started asking for pets. And how am I supposed to pet a cat twenty feet tall at the shoulder?”
Zela smiled and went back into her room to check on Hciristial.
Flaer suddenly felt cold, as if that room had stopped breathing. It was dead silent. Tam’s story hesitated, then stopped. Flaer jumped up and went to see what was wrong.
Zela was standing above the cradle, frozen like a statue in disbelief. The cradle was empty.
“How-?” Flaer began in a whisper.
“I don’t know,” Zela answered. “Dear stars, I don’t know.” Suddenly she whirled and headed for the door.
“Tam, did you take Hciristial?”
“No, ma’am!” Tam responded promptly. Then his brown and hazel eyes widened to unbelievable sizes. “Wait, what happened?”
“He’s no longer in his cradle. The room is exactly as it was half an hour ago, and nothing smells or sounds or feels out of place – but he’s gone.”
Tam jumped up. “Search the room again. Flairé, you three-“ Flaria, Menad, and Kylyralessa “- come with me and we’ll search the castle for people with babies.”
“Get Gyoriing to help you,” Zela called, following Flaer back into the room.
Her hands were shaking. Her son had been stolen, and for the first time, all the tracking skills available to her – her own, Yoeath’s, her friends’ – had failed her. She didn’t know what to do, and that frightened her more than anything else.
Flaer embraced her silently, and she laid her proud head back on his shoulder. Flaer was her greatest comfort. He felt what she felt, and offered no hollow words of comfort. Tam had tried, after returning empty handed, but his usually strong voice had faded into stammering and then silence, and then he had left. Her other children had looked at her, and then tip-toed away to their rooms.
“Come,” Flaer said at last, releasing her and taking her hand.
They walked through corridors together. Flaer came upon Gyoriing in the living area of his quarters and spoke quick, soft words to him. The knight nodded and left the way that Flaer and Zela had come in.
Flaer took Zela’s hand again and led her out of the castle, across the dark grounds, through the main gate, the one that didn’t lead into the city.
They wandered long alone together under the stars and the dark trees. The moon was shining, at half-light.
Another light appeared in the distance, and Flaer turned toward it. Zela followed, not really registering at first. Then she blinked as if waking and saw a distant bonfire. Flaer continued steadily on, and she followed him.
Deep in the heart of the woods was a great bonfire, and around it in the shadows clustered people, figures she could hardly see. One of them came forward, and it was Gyoriing. He had brought Zela’s violin, and held it out to her. She took it, feeling the smooth wood under her fingers, and brought it slowly up to her shoulder, curling the fingers of her other hand around the bow. Flaer and Gyoriing stood back.
Music began to fall from the five strings, slow and measured and grieving. Zela loved the violin; it mimicked the voice while having even greater range and, like the voice, reflected every emotion the musician felt and amplified it. If their hand shook, the world would know.
Her hands did not shake now, as her fingers found their way surely to the places to make the sounds her mind improvised. They had shaken before, all through the walk in the woods, but with her instrument in her hands, that all changed.
The music gradually quickened, breathing deep and soft like a tree. Guitars and soft bells joined in from the crowd that stood around the clearing, and Flaer began to dance. At first he danced alone, but others from the crowd joined in as the music sped up.
The Zela began to sing too, a song with gentle words but fierce melody, and it was as if the fire spread to the dancers. They began to intertwine and leap, hands twirling gracefully and skirts flying. She lost the words of the song and just sang a passionate wordless melody.
Zela passed her violin back to Gyoriing, who put it back in its case, and joined the dance while still singing. To her surprise, she found herself dancing with Tam, who gave her such an unhappy look like a scolded dog that she actually managed a brief smile for him. Then she moved to Flaer and forgot everything else in the pulse of the dance.
When Flaer and Zela went back to the Moonland, Flairé begged to stay behind and live with Tam, and after much discussion, his parents let him. Flaria proclaimed herself jealous until Flaer told her what a terrible thing jealousy was. Then when she saw her brother, she would give him a haughty look and told him to take care of himself now that she wouldn’t be able to do it for him.
Flairé took it all fairly cheerfully in stride, secretly entertaining thoughts of finding his baby brother.
Three more sons were born to Flaer and Zela over the swift cruel years, named Zeastal, Idmwenn, and Mui-ila, Brightsword, Swiftflight, and Deereye, and each time, the baby vanished after only a few days. Idmwenn, the third baby, they never left alone, but even the kalmaei must sleep sometime, and Idmwenn vanished out of Flaer’s arms one night, and they wept. Mui-ila, likewise. Some questioned why they were spending so much trouble on children when the pattern was as predictable as a road, but never aloud, for which Zela was grateful.
The prince’s family troubles were not the only thing bothering the Moonland. Rumours of social unrest in the east were filtering through the unofficial lines of communication, and strange, vaguely unsettling tales of monsters – or perhaps a monster – from the north. But they were only stories, and no one had any proof, so there was nothing to do but to go on with life as it was, and wonder.
Chapter 2 Chapter 4
