“It is a sadness to see your parents go their separate ways after so many years.” MorningStar sighed. “But historically it was entirely expected.”
Axis looked at his grandmother, puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“Axis. We SunSoars are a peculiar family. Our blood calls to each other so strongly that if we marry out of the family then we generally marry badly.”
Axis frowned. Today he, Rivkah, Azhure, Raum and the two Sentinels were starting their trek down through the mountain passes to the Avar groves to celebrate Beltide. “You marry each other, MorningStar? How can that be?”
MorningStar shrugged. “SunSoars are only happy when they marry each other, Axis. No, don’t look so horrified. None of us has gone mad yet. Well, not very many of us,” she muttered, half to herself. “Generally every second generation SunSoar cousins will marry each other. RushCloud, my husband, was also my first cousin. FreeFall and EvenSong, both first cousins, would have married. This pattern of marriages has kept our blood strong over the years.”
“And the generation that marries outside the family – their marriages … ?”
“Are generally passable at best, but often miserably unhappy. RavenCrest is SunSoar, but BrightFeather is not. They respect each other, but they share no passion. While RushCloud and I,” MorningStar smiled slowly, “lived our lives among the stars. Like FreeFall and EvenSong, we became lovers at thirteen.”
“Lovers at thirteen?” Axis was appalled. His sister? And FreeFall?
MorningStar raised a well-groomed eyebrow. “Well, why not? Thirteen is not young. Whether Icarii, Avar or human, at thirteen one begins to put away childish things and consider more mature pastimes. At what age did you first take a woman to bed?”
Axis reddened, and MorningStar laughed with delight before tipping her lovely silvery head on one side and regarding Axis thoughtfully. “We are both SunSoar and our blood sings strongly, Axis. Do not pretend you cannot hear it. Have you chosen your Beltide companion yet? Shall we let our blood sing together that night?”
Axis took a defensive step backwards, shocked.
“Ah,” she said seductively. “I am your grandmother, you say. Well, Axis, it has been done before, and I have no doubt it will be done again.” She smiled. “But not this Beltide, I think. Your Acharite reservation holds you back. A pity.”
She sat on a stool behind her. “I started to tell you why StarDrifter and Rivkah’s marriage ended in unhappiness. She is not SunSoar. They had a passion and a love, but StarDrifter’s blood constantly sings, looking for another whose blood sings back to him with the same Song. But,” MorningStar sighed, “there are no other SunSoar women for either him or you to marry. No,” she said tartly, watching Axis’ face, “SunSoars never marry or couple with first blood. It is Unclean. EvenSong is out of bounds to her brother and her father. Father and daughter, mother and son, brother and sister – there we draw the line, but only there. All else is freedom.”
“I will marry Faraday,” Axis said firmly, “when she is free.”
“And is she SunSoar?” MorningStar inquired archly.
“You know she is not.”
“Then you will have an unhappy marriage. Your blood, like StarDrifter’s, like EvenSong’s, will constantly crave another SunSoar. Perhaps your children will marry EvenSong’s. I hope that will be the case. They, at least, will know happiness.”
Angry, Axis turned away.
The journey through the alps was exhilarating. Rivkah had only come down these mountain passes on her own previously, had never shared the grandeur of the Icescarp Alps with anyone else. Now that she had such good companionship, she found herself enjoying the journey as never before. Since the night of the Assembly Rivkah’s manner had become more and more light-hearted, and Axis supposed that being freed from the strain of her increasingly unhappy marriage had cast her into a happier frame of mind.
The trails down the Icescarp Alps wound slowly through narrow ravines and valleys, past icefalls and, occasionally, behind them. Sometimes the gradient was steep, sometimes mild, but the view was always breathtaking. On either side of the trails great cliff faces of glassy black rock plunged into fern-bracketed glacier-fed rivers thousands of paces below them. In the afternoons, as the light began to fail and the mists thicken, Rivkah would lead them to small caves she’d discovered in her years of travelling up and down these trails. Here they would slip their cumbersome backpacks from their shoulders, laughing and complaining in the same breath, and set up camp for the night.
Before, Rivkah had always had to carry enough fuel, food, and blankets to keep her alive over the week or more it took her to traverse the trails. There was no vegetation this high in the alps to provide firewood, and no game to trap or kill.
Then the journey had been risky, but she had never travelled the mountain passes with an Enchanter before – and such an Enchanter! Axis’ powers kept the paths dry where before Rivkah had slipped and skidded dangerously, swept the shifting winds to one side where before they had often threatened to blow Rivkah from the narrow paths, and kept the cold at bay, surrounding the small party with balmy air. In the evenings he conjured up fires of green and red and purple, and provided them all with feather-soft mattresses of warm air.
Apart from the considerable difference Axis’ powers made, Rivkah enjoyed having her son virtually to herself. Previously StarDrifter had commanded so much of his attention Rivkah had found little time to talk with Axis. Now they chatted about his likes and dislikes, his life with the Seneschal, his life as BattleAxe, the good times and the bad times, as they walked side by side.
The evenings, when Rivkah shared Axis with their companions, were just as wonderful.
After they’d chosen a cave for the night, eased packs from aching shoulders and cleared the cave floor of debris, Axis would provide a roaring fire that warmed the entire party. Then he would sing to the cave walls, caressing them with his hands, and, as fast-gathering gloom descended outside, the rock gave off a gentle glow that intensified with the night.
Even their food was magical, but Axis had nothing to do with that. As he conjured fire and light each evening, Ogden and Veremund would slip off the light packs they carried, open the top flaps, rustle around mumbling and complaining for a few moments, and then draw out parcel after parcel of beautifully wrapped and packaged food. Honeyed hams, crisp-roasted poultry, peppered joints of beef and sundry other marinated delicacies ready to be warmed at the fire, fresh and dried fruits, a variety of breads and pastries, platters of vegetables, exotic cheeses, bowls of almonds and raisins and gourds of spiced wines – every evening the Sentinels unpacked a veritable feast.
“Ogden always sees to the packing,” Veremund said the first evening. “I have no idea how he does it.”
Ogden gaped at Veremund. “What? I packed not a crumb of this! I thought you did!” Then he frowned into his pack. “Where did you put the napkins?”
Axis, rising from the fire laughing, had told them to stop arguing and advised the others to simply enjoy the food and not push the Sentinels on where it came from. “They will just argue with each other,” he said to Azhure and Raum, “to keep from answering you.”
Each evening after they had eaten, Axis entertained with his wonderful voice and his skill on the harp. He sang Icarii melodies for the first part of the evening, but as the night deepened Axis’ mood changed and he sang ballads and songs of Acharite extraction, making Rivkah and Azhure smile and tap their fingers