Cards of Grief by Jane Yolen Read Free Book Online Page B

earlier sowings. You told me, in this very room. Reap the Harvest .” My voice took on a slightly petulant tone.
    Still he did not speak.
    “Lina-Lania is one. I am sure of it.”
    He looked up at the ceilings, which were draped in red-and-gold silks. Without meaning to, my eyes followed his. The corner of one silk had pulled away from its fastening and drooped slightly. D’oremos clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, a small deadly warning, and I knew that there was a servant who would be given the choice of the Cup or dismissal come morning.
    “I also was certain I had found one,” he mused. “The next year she grew fat on Royal food and I realized that her yellow eyes were only a muddy reflection of a boy’s desire. She did not last long and took the Cup willingly.” He smiled at the memory. “She was a pretty thing, for a while.”
    I was silent.
    “T’arremos brought back twin boys, and you know how rarely there are twins born. Perhaps once every three of four generations. They were marvelous children. Very inventive physically, but stupid beyond belief. Even the Queen laughed at T’arremos. He sent them home, denying them the last comfort of the Royal Cup. We are, I fear, breeding fewer and fewer.” He pulled on one side of his mustache, which gave his face a lopsided, quizzical expression. “How sure are you?”
    I reached out for the instrument, my eyes never leaving his, and brought the plecta onto my lap. It was such a wonderful, sturdy old thing and I knew it would need no further tuning, which would have spoiled the moment. I played the Gray Wanderer’s song.
    On the second time through, D’oremos’s thin, reedy tenor, slightly off-key, joined me in the chorus:
    Weep for the night that is coming,
    Weep for the day that is past.
    Tears began to leak from his eyes, down the well-worn grooves in his face. I had not expected that. My fingers slowed to a stop.
    “My father,” I whispered.
    “She shall have her audience with the Queen,” he said, leaned back against his pillows, and closed his eyes.
    I waited a minute more, hoping to hear the terms of our mutual undertaking. Then, understanding that there would be no demands from him, that finding Lina-Lania was enough, I rose and went back to my rooms.
    I should have celebrated, I suppose, celebrated both my return to the comforts of L’Lal’dome and the success of my shortened mission. But I felt strangely cold and sick at heart. I slipped out of my robes and lay in the darkness, pressed against my eight pillows.
    Mar-keshan came and went several times on quiet feet. He left bowls of sweet-smelling fruit to tempt me and slipped two new pillows under my head.
    “Sent from Lord D’oremos,” he said, pride in his voice.
    But I could not eat and I could not sleep, though I must have dozed off in the end, for I dreamed that a gray-cloaked figure stood at my feet, carefully away from the cushions, and offered me a cup of blood, crying all the while I drank.
    We shall speak of this again tomorrow.

Tape 4: THE SEVEN GRIEVERS, PART II
    Place : Queen’s Hall of Grief, Room of Instruction
    Time : Queen’s Time 23, Thirteenth Matriarchy; labtime 2132.5+ A.D.
    Speaker : Queen’s Own Griever to the apprentices, including Lina-Lania
    Permission : No permission, preset, voice-activated
    A ND HERE CONTINUES THE song of the Seven Grievers as was told Master to Master down through the lines from the hour of the waters receding to the moment of my tongue’s speaking. I have saved these mournful dirges in my mouth and in my heart for the time when, as the Queen’s Own Griever, I have had to wail for the dying of the land once more.
    Hear then, listen well. My word is firm, firmer than sleep or the Cup that carries it, firmer than the strength of heroes. My voice makes the telling true. To listen, to remember, is to know.
    Onto the great crescent that was once the floor of the sea moved Lands and with them the folk of Moons and Stars, those who