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Authors: Terie Garrison
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telling the truth, I’d never believe it.”
“Well, then maybe you’ll believe me when I tell you there’s a cave less than half an hour from here.”
Shandry looked closely at Traz, who didn’t flinch at her scrutiny. Then she nodded once and turned to kick out the fire. I slung the packs back onto Dyster and untied his reins, then led him along behind the others.
We trudged through the trees to the cave. It was dark before we got there, and, worse, it began to rain. Luckily, there was a lot of dead wood all around, and we had a fire blazing in no time. I hobbled the pony in the back of the cave, took off the packs, and filled his nosebag with grain and some oats. Shandry gathered more wood for the night while Traz dressed the sittack and set it to roast.
I wanted to ask Shandry about the creature—what it was and why it was so hard to catch one—but she seemed to have closed in on herself. Her thoughts were obviously far away.
When the meal was ready, we joined Traz next to the fire. The meat was tender and juicy. At first Shandry seemed reluctant to try it, but Traz held out her plate insistently, so she shrugged and began to eat. There was also flatbread with leten and some kind of root vegetable, yellowy-orange in color and roasted into sweetness.
As we sat around the fire after we’d finished eating, Shandry stroked the pelt of the sittack, which Traz had decided to keep.
“It seems strange,” she said, “that the first time I ever see one, it’s dead, and then I eat it.”
“What’s wrong with eating it?” Traz asked.
Shandry shook her head. “Nothing. It’s just that the sittack is rather a legendary beast.” There was a long pause, and I had to bite my lower lip to keep from demanding more information. “Not just anyone can bring one down. Only special people.” A startled look crossed Traz’s face. “Only sages. Or so they say.”
Traz froze for a moment. Then he drew a deep breath and licked his lips. “Are you saying that I’m a sage?”
Many long ages ago, before even history began, night was always black and chill. Folk huddled together and passed the dark time in terror and death, grateful when the grey light of morning banished the darkness.
Boca, however, told stories to her children to stave off their fears. Tales of their father’s hunts, brave and true. Tales, funny ones these, of a family of rodents whose escapades left the children in gales of laughter. Tales of love, strong and pure, that never died.
Then Merot, Lord of the Night, heard laughter breaking the silence of the dark. Curious, he came down from the night sky and sat outside Boca’s cave, listening to her sweet voice, absent of all fear, spinning its tales to comfort her children.
And he was well-pleased.
And he returned the next night.
And the night after.
A week of nights passed in this way, until Merot decided to reward Boca for the joy she instilled in his breast. In the pink hour after sunset, in that time of light and darkness intertwined when the Lord of the Night may greet the Lady of the Day, Merot asked Willa for a tiny piece of the sun, that he might gift a deserving woman.
And that night, as Boca gathered her children close around her, a yellow gleam shone in the darkness.
Thus came the light and warmth of fire into the world.
~an ancient tale from the deeps of time
Shandry shrugged. “How should I know if you’re a sage? Maybe that old story is just a legend.” She turned her attention back to the sittack pelt, completely unaware of the storm she’d unleashed in our companion.
He sat there unmoving, but I could feel his excitement as if it were water filling the cave and drowning us. A fierce sense of longing, deep wonder, and terrible fear, all churned in and around the small boy who stared into the flames. I put a hand on his shoulder and felt the tension that coursed through him; my hand seemed to grow warm from the contact.
Could it be true? And if it were, what did it
“Well, then maybe you’ll believe me when I tell you there’s a cave less than half an hour from here.”
Shandry looked closely at Traz, who didn’t flinch at her scrutiny. Then she nodded once and turned to kick out the fire. I slung the packs back onto Dyster and untied his reins, then led him along behind the others.
We trudged through the trees to the cave. It was dark before we got there, and, worse, it began to rain. Luckily, there was a lot of dead wood all around, and we had a fire blazing in no time. I hobbled the pony in the back of the cave, took off the packs, and filled his nosebag with grain and some oats. Shandry gathered more wood for the night while Traz dressed the sittack and set it to roast.
I wanted to ask Shandry about the creature—what it was and why it was so hard to catch one—but she seemed to have closed in on herself. Her thoughts were obviously far away.
When the meal was ready, we joined Traz next to the fire. The meat was tender and juicy. At first Shandry seemed reluctant to try it, but Traz held out her plate insistently, so she shrugged and began to eat. There was also flatbread with leten and some kind of root vegetable, yellowy-orange in color and roasted into sweetness.
As we sat around the fire after we’d finished eating, Shandry stroked the pelt of the sittack, which Traz had decided to keep.
“It seems strange,” she said, “that the first time I ever see one, it’s dead, and then I eat it.”
“What’s wrong with eating it?” Traz asked.
Shandry shook her head. “Nothing. It’s just that the sittack is rather a legendary beast.” There was a long pause, and I had to bite my lower lip to keep from demanding more information. “Not just anyone can bring one down. Only special people.” A startled look crossed Traz’s face. “Only sages. Or so they say.”
Traz froze for a moment. Then he drew a deep breath and licked his lips. “Are you saying that I’m a sage?”
Many long ages ago, before even history began, night was always black and chill. Folk huddled together and passed the dark time in terror and death, grateful when the grey light of morning banished the darkness.
Boca, however, told stories to her children to stave off their fears. Tales of their father’s hunts, brave and true. Tales, funny ones these, of a family of rodents whose escapades left the children in gales of laughter. Tales of love, strong and pure, that never died.
Then Merot, Lord of the Night, heard laughter breaking the silence of the dark. Curious, he came down from the night sky and sat outside Boca’s cave, listening to her sweet voice, absent of all fear, spinning its tales to comfort her children.
And he was well-pleased.
And he returned the next night.
And the night after.
A week of nights passed in this way, until Merot decided to reward Boca for the joy she instilled in his breast. In the pink hour after sunset, in that time of light and darkness intertwined when the Lord of the Night may greet the Lady of the Day, Merot asked Willa for a tiny piece of the sun, that he might gift a deserving woman.
And that night, as Boca gathered her children close around her, a yellow gleam shone in the darkness.
Thus came the light and warmth of fire into the world.
~an ancient tale from the deeps of time
Shandry shrugged. “How should I know if you’re a sage? Maybe that old story is just a legend.” She turned her attention back to the sittack pelt, completely unaware of the storm she’d unleashed in our companion.
He sat there unmoving, but I could feel his excitement as if it were water filling the cave and drowning us. A fierce sense of longing, deep wonder, and terrible fear, all churned in and around the small boy who stared into the flames. I put a hand on his shoulder and felt the tension that coursed through him; my hand seemed to grow warm from the contact.
Could it be true? And if it were, what did it
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