The Raven Warrior by Alice Borchardt Read Free Book Online Page B

anything this good before . . . ever. It is all right to move?”
    “Oh, yes. Move all you want. Take your time. We have all night.”
    Then they stopped thinking and talking, because both seemed irrelevant to what their bodies were doing for each other, and sank together into bliss.
    Later—some time later—she managed to talk him into a midnight swim. She was pleased to find out he was a good swimmer and enjoyed the water.
    “My father taught me,” he told her.
    “You father? He like you?” she asked.
    “Wolf and back? Yes,” Black Leg said. “Maeniel.”
    “I know him!” she said.
    “He never mentioned you,” Black Leg said.
    “No, I don’t mean know him personally,” she said. “But by reputation. He’s got a good reputation. Last I heard, he was shacking with a she-wolf up by the Roman wall.”
    “Shacking!” Black Leg said.
    “Handfast, jumped over the broom with, keeping company, in tight with. No criticism implied, a secular marriage. Damn few of us go ask the priest to bless us, though it has happened.”
    “Won’t a blessing mess you up?” Black Leg asked.
    “Shit, no! Doesn’t bother us. Probably would seem unnecessary to a she-wolf, though. But like as not, it wouldn’t bother her either. She might think it a nice touch. Maybe.”
    A cloud drifted over the moon and a few drops of rain sprinkled the water. In the sudden darkness, Black Leg heard someone singing a faint but ravishing music that seemed carried on the breeze from some far-off place.
    “What?” Black Leg asked.
    “She’s . . . she’s singing. Just enjoy it.”
    He did, resting on his back, floating in the lake until the song seemed to dwindle away into the vast silence of night and the stars.
    “Who?” he asked.
    “The blue water lily,” she said. “This is the night of her nights. She spends all year preparing for this—these—nights when her flower glows receptive under the moon. Last year it rained like a son of a bitch, flat poured for five days straight nonstop. She didn’t get anything done, but likely in the next few nights her favorite moth will find its way out over the lake and . . . she will be able to carry on her line.”
    Black Leg was slightly shocked. “I didn’t think flowers . . .”
    “What the hell did you think flowers are for, you bonehead?”
    “Oh . . .”
    “She’s dreaming about love, and while she dreams, she sings. And when she sings, I listen. Not too many like her left. She came from another world, one before this one. Being one of a last few is a tremendous responsibility, and she takes it seriously. But they just aren’t well adapted to this place. Believe me, it’s a lot more rough-and-tumble than it used to be. God! What is that awful noise?”
    “I’m sorry,” Black Leg said. “It’s my stomach growling. I’m hungry.”
    “Cripe, why didn’t you say so? Come on.” She rolled over and dove.
    He didn’t follow, and a few minutes later, she surfaced again.
    “What’s the matter with you?” She studied his face for a second, then said, “Oh, no! Oh, shit! Are you going to start that stupid stuff about me drowning people again?”
    “Well . . .” he said.
    “Listen, nitwit. Why do you think you’re floating so nice?”
    “I . . .” Black Leg began, then realized he had been floating very easily. The lake held him up rather the way a soft bed might have. “I . . . don’t . . .”
    “Yeah, you sure don’t,” she said. “Think at all. The water’s holding you because I’m asking it to. That’s what I meant about those stupid mopes drowning when I wasn’t around. If I had been, I would have dragged them off to shore and told them to pick some less unpleasant way to . . . shuffle off this mortal coil. All I’m doing is inviting you home for dinner.”
    “Whose dinner?” he asked.
    “Jesus!” Her eyes rolled toward heaven. “Trust me, you jerk-off. I can do better than raw human any day. I got a lot of friends. We water spirits always do. Now,