No Flame But Mine by Tanith Lee

Author:Tanith Lee
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781480493247
Publisher: Open Road Media Sci-Fi & Fantasy

Ninth Intervolumen

Does the leaf remember

The tree which gave it flight?

Does the star recall

Which fire woke its light?

Love Song: Ruk Kar Is

Sea filled the floor of the night.

Each one of them must travel it.

Their own intent and flawless darkness was or would be pinned by starlight on the black backdrop of heaven and earth, among the silver-creaming of the liquid waves.

The Children of Chillel.

Her magnetism pulled them surely on and in.

At first they had had to walk over the land, those countries of Simisey and Vormland, the Kelpish and Fazion isles, the coasts and inner reaches of the continent shaped like a sword: Gech, Olchibe, Jafn. All of them gained the sea. Some were alone and some in groups. There were more of them too than any who locally witnessed their number ever estimated. All were male but one. And every male participated in the journey – but one.

Elsewhere Dayadin, son of Chillel, Arok and Nirri, stayed moored with his half-sister Brinnajni. But here, on the sea floor of night, Azula, daughter of Chillel and Beebit, sat with her half-brother Sallus who was the son of a king.

They had ridden in a sleekar drawn by lashdeer. It was Sallus’s property, though he had not before often used it. A small example of luggage and provisions was in the chariot.

Azula stood behind Sallus, who drove the team. When occasionally he glanced back to check on how she was, Azula was always mute and expressionless; her cloak and short hair streaming back from the racing speed were all that demonstrated she was not a statue.

When they paused to eat or sleep they spoke very little. He let her sleep the most. She seemed to feed on sleep more hungrily than on food. Did she dream then of her human mother?

Her hair was growing back swiftly and she had rinsed it in black dye before they left Kol Cataar. Now it seemed only one colour. It was just her skin and eyes that might attract comment.

A couple of tiny, terrible villages appeared and vanished. One was clearly a nest of partly demented robbers, who rushed or hobbled at them waving their arms, shouting the fake over-welcome of a spurious host. Oaths and dooms were heaped on them as they sped away. In other spots they dashed past villages and steads long abandoned. The bones of animals lay just under the softer snow, lividly ochre against the whiteness. But as the coast drew near – the ride had not taken more than four days – a bigger conglomeration showed, this one not quite mad or ferocious. From here an ice-road led down to the shore.

Sallus haggled for one of the clinker-built black boats, for its dun sail, oars and fishing lines. He offered only copper coins but they were the currency of the dead city of Ru Karismi.

Dreadfully, people in the village street shed tears, and came reverently to touch them. ‘Were you from there? Is that what turned you black?’ Sallus evaded talk of colour.

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