Magesong by James R. Sanford Read Free Book Online

sprout, so some
think only rainwater will help.  Some think the land has been blighted.  Others
say that the soil here is exhausted."
    "You don't sound like you really believe any of that,
Farlo."
    "No one is saying what
they really believe.  But you'll see.  Tonight."
    The meeting place lay only a few hundred yards from the
house, but Reyin's good leg had tired and the makeshift crutch began cutting
into his armpit as they reached the crowd of villagers.  Aksel went ahead, bent
under a bundle of large sticks, and younger men ran forward to meet him and
take the kindling to the fire circle.  Syliva walked easily beside Reyin,
taking his arm the last few steps to show him an old stump where he could sit.
    He had spotted Kestrin at a distance without difficulty. 
Children chased each other carelessly, laughing wildly as they ducked and
dodged and collided with adults, and she sidestepped them as she made her way
to Syliva and gave the subtle bow of the head that these people used for a
greeting.  Most of those who did not approach Syliva still made the nod of
respect, and indeed it seemed to Reyin that everyone began arranging themselves
as soon as she arrived.  He had supposed that she was simply the village
midwife.  Now she seemed to be a leader in this community.  He saw no one there
in the role of chief or mayor, no overlord or council of elders.
    Kestrin seemed not to notice him, though he sat no more than
twenty feet away.  What was it about her that drew him so readily?  She was
pretty, and a little exotic, but he had met a hundred young women as beautiful
as this freckle-faced redhead.  And what did he know of her?  Nothing.  He
simply needed to speak to her and this enchantment would pass. He had learned
six new words of Pallenor in one day.  Within a fortnight he would be able to
hold a pidgin conversation.  Yet in a fortnight wouldn't his ankle be healed
and he on his way to Noraggen?
    Greetings done with, everyone seemed to be waiting now, some
glancing skyward as if expecting a sign from the heavens.  The sun had sunk
well behind the western ridge.  It was almost twilight.
    Then Kestrin was standing next to him.  "Good
evening," she said in Avic, unsure of her pronunciation.
    "Good evening," he returned in Pallenor. 
"You know some of the Avic tongue?"
    "A very little."  She smiled.  "Farlo
divias," she said as if to explain, pointing to the other Syrolian.  Farlo
now circled the small pyramid of dead wood checking its structure, making sure
it would not topple over when lit.
    He thought that if he just sat there staring at her she
would become uncomfortable, so he tried to think of something he could say. 
All that leapt to mind was traveller's phases such as "I would like a
private room", or "How much for the soup?"
    "Tell me, please," he ventured, "the words
for the song."
    "I do not to know," she said, still trying to
speak Avic.
    He smiled.  "No, no, tell me in the Pallenor
tongue."
    She laughed at the misunderstanding.  She leaned close to
his ear and spoke softly.  The words had the rhythm of days following nights,
the timbre of spring showers, the silences of melting snow.
    It was a simple song.  The second verse had the same meter
as the first, and the lyrics changed in the second chorus, but then it was
done.  That was it, the whole song.  Reyin figured, the words being foreign,
that he would have to hear it sung through twice before he got it down. 
Remembering other folks' songs was what he did best.
    "Very pretty," he said
    “The words?"
    He looked at her.  "This place."
    A women silenced her children with a loud shush.  Kestrin
looked up, and Reyin saw that the first star of twilight had blinked open. 
Everyone quietly formed a circle around the fire pit.
    They sang a simple melody to the simple lyrics, the sound of
bright sunlight on a sea of ice.  Someone, somewhere in the circle, a woman or
a boy, sang a harmony pure as a waterfall.  He listened to them as a