Read Online Shadowdance by Robin W Bailey - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Robin W Bailey
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Drushen took another step and stopped again. He managed to utter, "A child of darkness? Is that what you've become?"
Innowen whirled. "I'm no child, Drushen. I'm tall as you, if not as strong. I've seen eighteen springs, and I'm no longer so helpless that I have to quietly suffer being called a child . I'm a man," He clenched his fists and turned away from his guardian to stare back through the window. It was another world out there, a world unlike his cottage prison, unlike this room in Whisperstone, totally different from the world of the daytime. "At least, I'm a man at night." He closed his eyes and opened them, then walked past Drushen into the outer chamber and toward the door.
"Where are you going?" his guardian called, hurrying after him. He caught Innowen's arm and spun him around.
Innowen started to snap, but stopped himself and sighed. He loved Drushen; the old woodcutter was the only family he'd ever known. He couldn't be blamed if he still treated Innowen like a cripple. In time, he would rejoice, too. "For a walk," Innowen said finally, laying a hand gently on the old man's shoulder. "I've never gone for a walk by myself before."
Drushen managed a weak smile, though his face was lined with worry. "Well, you'd better put something on," he said. He turned toward the table, which, the night before, had been laden with food. Someone had placed a small pile of folded garments there. His guardian lifted a pale blue chiton from the top, shook it once, and held it out to him. "This isn't our home, and you can't run naked around a grand place like this."
The fabric was an incredibly fine weave. Innowen had never seen its like. Drushen handed him another cloth of equal softness to wrap about his loins. Then he draped the chiton over Innowen's body, leaving the left shoulder bare, and fastened a small silver brooch that closed the right shoulder. The hem touched the middle of Innowen's thigh, but when he added a leather belt and laced it tight around his waist, it rose a bit higher.
"Look," Drushen said, crossing to the other smaller table where the water basin sat with an oinochoe jug. In his haste the night before, Innowen had not noticed the large copper mirror behind the basin. He stared at his own image.
He had seen his face as a water reflection when Drushen had carried him to bathe in the stream near the cottage, but never had he seen himself standing erect. He turned slowly, viewing himself from every angle. It was not his image, but the reflection of his movement that fascinated him. He noted with wonder how the muscles in his side rippled if he leaned a certain way, how tilting his head back exposed the veins in his neck. His chest was too narrow, he quickly decided, and his arms too thin, yet there was a grace in his body that surprised and delighted him.
"You'll become vain, boy," Drushen said from the center of the room. "You have the beauty for it."
Innowen didn't turn, but their gazes met in the polished metal. "The power of movement is a magic all its own," he answered. "I see that now. You've had that magic all your life, so you don't appreciate it. You don't see what a miracle it is to lift your foot from here," he pointed to a spot on the floor, "and put it here. And this is an even greater miracle." He rose onto the ball of his left foot, pirouetted with perfect control, and faced himself in the mirror once more. "But it's a magic utterly new to me, and it makes me feel..." He hesitated, looked sad for a moment, then pirouetted again. "I don't know. I'm almost glad that I could never walk until now."
"It's the Witch's power you feel," Drushen said darkly. "And nobody gives something for nothing."
At that, Innowen faced his guardian. "Don't they, Drushen? You found me on the road when I was a newborn baby, and took me in. You fed me and took care of me, raised me and loved me. What do you want in return?"
The hurt showed visibly in the old woodcutter's eyes, but he said nothing, only stared
Innowen whirled. "I'm no child, Drushen. I'm tall as you, if not as strong. I've seen eighteen springs, and I'm no longer so helpless that I have to quietly suffer being called a child . I'm a man," He clenched his fists and turned away from his guardian to stare back through the window. It was another world out there, a world unlike his cottage prison, unlike this room in Whisperstone, totally different from the world of the daytime. "At least, I'm a man at night." He closed his eyes and opened them, then walked past Drushen into the outer chamber and toward the door.
"Where are you going?" his guardian called, hurrying after him. He caught Innowen's arm and spun him around.
Innowen started to snap, but stopped himself and sighed. He loved Drushen; the old woodcutter was the only family he'd ever known. He couldn't be blamed if he still treated Innowen like a cripple. In time, he would rejoice, too. "For a walk," Innowen said finally, laying a hand gently on the old man's shoulder. "I've never gone for a walk by myself before."
Drushen managed a weak smile, though his face was lined with worry. "Well, you'd better put something on," he said. He turned toward the table, which, the night before, had been laden with food. Someone had placed a small pile of folded garments there. His guardian lifted a pale blue chiton from the top, shook it once, and held it out to him. "This isn't our home, and you can't run naked around a grand place like this."
The fabric was an incredibly fine weave. Innowen had never seen its like. Drushen handed him another cloth of equal softness to wrap about his loins. Then he draped the chiton over Innowen's body, leaving the left shoulder bare, and fastened a small silver brooch that closed the right shoulder. The hem touched the middle of Innowen's thigh, but when he added a leather belt and laced it tight around his waist, it rose a bit higher.
"Look," Drushen said, crossing to the other smaller table where the water basin sat with an oinochoe jug. In his haste the night before, Innowen had not noticed the large copper mirror behind the basin. He stared at his own image.
He had seen his face as a water reflection when Drushen had carried him to bathe in the stream near the cottage, but never had he seen himself standing erect. He turned slowly, viewing himself from every angle. It was not his image, but the reflection of his movement that fascinated him. He noted with wonder how the muscles in his side rippled if he leaned a certain way, how tilting his head back exposed the veins in his neck. His chest was too narrow, he quickly decided, and his arms too thin, yet there was a grace in his body that surprised and delighted him.
"You'll become vain, boy," Drushen said from the center of the room. "You have the beauty for it."
Innowen didn't turn, but their gazes met in the polished metal. "The power of movement is a magic all its own," he answered. "I see that now. You've had that magic all your life, so you don't appreciate it. You don't see what a miracle it is to lift your foot from here," he pointed to a spot on the floor, "and put it here. And this is an even greater miracle." He rose onto the ball of his left foot, pirouetted with perfect control, and faced himself in the mirror once more. "But it's a magic utterly new to me, and it makes me feel..." He hesitated, looked sad for a moment, then pirouetted again. "I don't know. I'm almost glad that I could never walk until now."
"It's the Witch's power you feel," Drushen said darkly. "And nobody gives something for nothing."
At that, Innowen faced his guardian. "Don't they, Drushen? You found me on the road when I was a newborn baby, and took me in. You fed me and took care of me, raised me and loved me. What do you want in return?"
The hurt showed visibly in the old woodcutter's eyes, but he said nothing, only stared
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