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Topiara - Chapter 42
Jilan kneed Fleetwind in the ribs to put the pony alongside Surefoot. "Talk to me," he insisted in a soft and demanding tone.
"About what?" Lyara asked, her eyes never leaving the southern horizon in front of her.
"You've been distant ever since last night," he complained, sidling Fleetwind even closer. "I'm starting to wonder if I've done something to make you angry."
She sighed and finally looked over at him. "It isn't you – it's me."
"That doesn't tell me much," he said in frustration. "Did I do something?"
Lyara sighed again. How could she explain to him now, with the others such a short distance away, that she had come to realize during her long and lonely watch that she was a jealous person – that she begrudged even the most innocent of gestures of kindness he showed to Yiren? She knew she was being petty and selfish and so many of the other things that she'd always curled her lip when hearing about in relation to other women – and yet, when it came down to it, she couldn't help it. It disgusted her to see in herself some of the traits that had made Stepan so repellant to her, and feel so helpless in the face of those feelings.
"We'll talk about it this evening," she promised sincerely, "when we can have just a little bit of privacy. I'd rather not get into it right now…" She glanced over her shoulder at where Yiren's pony followed placidly. "Please."
"All right – if you tell me one thing first."
She looked at him. "What?"
"Are WE all right?"
The expression in Jilan's grey eyes was enough to make her melt a little. How could she expect him to behave less gallantly with Yiren than he'd ever behaved with her? "I'm just having trouble in trusting," she confessed finally. "We're all right – like I said, it's me who has the problem."
"Trusting who, Lya?"
"Myself, mostly," she lifted her eyes to the horizon again, "but you too."
"Me?"
She looked over at him imploringly. "I've never had anybody to whom I felt I belonged before – so I don't know how to share very well." She caught her head in the direction of the quiet Vryies woman behind them. "Even when, if I think about it, I know that isn't really what's going on."
Jilan frowned. He wasn't exactly following what Lyara was trying to tell him, and he felt as if he should be understanding her better. "I love you, you know," he kneed Fleetwind so that he could get close enough to lean into Lyara and land a quick kiss on her cheek. "No matter what's going on in your head, understand that there is nothing that's going to change that."
Lyara's dark eyes met his, and he was astounded at the depth of the insecurity that lay exposed. "I'm trying, Jilan," she said softly. "I really am."
He reached out a hand, and finally she grasped it in hers. "We'll figure this out, Lya," he told her with a gentle smile.
Yiren watched the dynamics of the two in front of her and glanced over her shoulders. Behind her, Farranby and Sharin were also watching the goings on carefully. This was something that she hadn't sensed before – and suddenly she understood much of the way the Kauwlut woman had been behaving. The yellow-haired man belonged to the Kauwlut Guide – and she belonged to him.
She hadn't thought that she was intruding on that – but maybe she was. The fine flame-colored brows folded in concern. Everything around her right now was so new, so different, so potentially dangerous to her vri'i – she had been more than glad to have even the little attention of the yellow-hair. It had been too long since anybody had actually concerned themselves on her behalf. And yet, despite her transgressions against this bonding, she was still the recipient of sha'adrah. That implied an obligation on her part to keep the sha'adrah from becoming a burden – to those who performed it as well as to those who were just along for the trip.
"Looks like there's a little trouble ahead," Sharin leaned toward Farranby and gestured at Jilan and Lyara.
"It's just a rough spot in a new road," Farranby shook his head. "You never know, you might be having the same reaction if I had been half as attentive to Yiren as Jilan has been the last day or so."
Sharin thought about it and then nodded. "He has been going out of his way to be kind to her," she commented. "I think he feels sorry for her – or maybe even sees a little of Lyara in her."
"The resemblance is an illusion," Farranby stated firmly. "Lyara has never been as dependent as Yiren – at least, not in the time I've known her. And believe it or not, I've known her longer than Jilan has."
"You're wrong – Lyara is just as vulnerable," Sharin shook her head. "And the fact that you and probably Jilan have never seen her that way just makes it worse for her."
"Let's just do what we can to pick up the slack for Jilan a little," he sighed, "so that things can get back to an even basis. Those two are just too good together to let anything minor get in the way."
Sharin nodded, and then smiled as Farranby leaned into her and kissed her cheek.
By the end of the second day, there was the very faintest hint of a dark line on the far horizon that had Yiren sitting straighter in her saddle and clutching her pony's mane tightly. "Is that Vri'ia'an?" she called as the ponies gathered and slowed.
"It could be," Farranby said unsurely, rising in his stirrups to study the shadow on the horizon. "If so, then the trees were closer to Alinber than I had considered."
"You did say they were another two days' ride when we talked about it last night," Lyara reminded him. "You weren't that far off."
"We still haven't come upon anybody who can take care of the ponies while we're in the trees," Jilan worried again. "I don't like that."
"I'm not too worried yet," Farranby shrugged. "If we head just a little to the east tomorrow as well as south, there's a small settlement I passed through on my way there years ago that should have some sort of livery establishment."
"I'd just be glad to find a relatively honest plainsman," Lyara stated as she slipped from Surefoot's back. "I'm with Jilan – this utter lack of any settlement at all has me concerned about our ponies' welfare."
"Like I said," Farranby told her with a pat on the back, "just head slightly east in the morning, and we should find something to suit us long before we get to the trees."
Yiren slipped from her pony very carefully. "What would you wish me do, Mistress?" she asked Lyara with a bow.
Lyara looked around. They had stopped in the middle of the prairie – there wasn't a tree or a scrub brush in sight. "There is a length of rope tied to my saddle," she directed. "Use it to secure the reins of all the ponies so that they won't wander off in the night while we're asleep. Whoever sits the watch will be responsible for the tether line."
Jilan had his bow and quiver in hand already as he handed his reins to Yiren. "I'll see what kind of supper I can find for us while there's still light."
Sharin looked about the ground with a frown. "I don't know that we can safely make a campfire, Lyara," she shook her head. "I don't want to be responsible for setting the whole prairie on fire."
"You don't have to," Farranby shook his head. "Here, help me start to clear an area of grass – between your dagger and the dryness, it shouldn't be too hard to make a camp circle…"
"I don't know that we have anything to burn," Sharin protested next.
"The grass can be gathered into bundles and tied tightly together," Yiren suggested, looking over at her companions from where she was patiently knotting Surefoot's reins into the rope she'd taken from Lyara's pack. "It won't burn as long or as hot as dried wood, but it will give enough heat to cook with if tended properly."
"You know how to make those bundles?" Lyara asked immediately, curious.
"All Vri'ia'ani know this, Mistress," Yiren caught at Shadow's reins now and continued her knotting. "It is a survival skill, taught to all in case they are separated from the trees and need warmth in the cold night – and to provide for many items we need in the trees. Grass is a very versatile product that can be made into many things."
"Farranby…"
"I'm on it," the older man responded immediately and went over to Yiren. "I'll take care of finishing the tether – why don't you show Lyara what you're talking about."
Yiren approached the Kauwlut woman cautiously. "Mistress, may I show you…"
"Please." Lyara gestured for her to start. "It would be appreciated…"
Yiren led the way over to where Sharin was still pulling the prairie grass from the dry, loose soil by the roots. She seated herself in the soft sand and pulled a healthy batch of grass into her lap. Lyara didn't hesitate, but seated herself next to the Vryies woman and followed suit. The flame-haired slave showed how to prepare one long strand of grass and tie the bundle at one end, and then wrap the bundle tightly, with a slight knot running along the length that she eventually tucked into the knotting. "See?"
"Ingenious," Lyara shook her head in amazement and then struggled to mimic what she'd just seen. When the bundle fell apart for the second time, she looked over at Yiren with a deeper appreciation. "It isn't as easy as it looks, is it?"
"It just takes practice, Mistress," Yiren told her and bent over the bundle. "See how the knotting slipped here? Keep your thumb over the last knot as you wrap so that it doesn't slip."
Lyara tried again, using the advice she'd been given, and then grinned triumphantly when her bundle began to take on the same shape and substance as Yiren's. "I wonder sometimes that my people never thought of such things."
Yiren glanced at her sideways. "I believe I owe you an apology, Mistress," she said softly. "I have intruded and upset you – and I would make amends."
Dark eyes flew to connect solidly with the grey. "You've done nothing wrong, Yiren," Lyara told her firmly.
"I did not know that you and your yellow-haired friend were… more than…"
"Don't worry about it," Lyara struggled to keep her calm.
"But it is my responsibility to be concerned, Mistress," Yiren insisted. "You perform sha'adrah – and I would not cause disharmony between you and your i'ilim while receiving such an honor."
Never had Lyara felt so ashamed of herself. She'd spent the entire watch the night before begrudging Yiren every glance and assistance – and here the woman was, recognizing the bond between Jilan and herself and then apologizing for having caused her disquiet or intruded into the relationship. "The disharmony between me and my i'ilim was not of your doing, Yiren," she admitted in chagrin. "It was all in my mind. I know how Jilan is – he is a good man."
"I'inshaa," Yiren nodded in agreement. "That he is."
"And he's a good man to everyone – I cannot own his behavior and hoard it only for myself."
The green eyes flickered curiously. "You would try to do such a thing, Mistress?"
Lyara tossed her bundle of grass aside and reached for another large wad to wrap. "Not consciously – but I have been trying." She looked up at the younger woman honestly. "I'm not exactly sure how NOT to. It's been so long since I belonged…"
"I can understand," Yiren told her with eyes much wiser than her age would otherwise indicate. "We who are stolen prize that little which makes us feel comfortable. After having everything else taken from us, we would guard that which remains."
Lyara watched her hands go through the unfamiliar motions of preparing the long tendril of grass that would wrap her next bundle. "It's strange hearing someone whom I've only know a few days understand my thoughts so well."
"We are not so different, Mistress," the Vryies woman remarked after a short pause, during which she too had gathered enough material to start another bundle of her own. "I would not have that similarity cause difficulties. I will do my best to give room for you and your i'ilim to work on your bond without my influence."
"And I will work on not being so short-sighted," Lyara promised earnestly. "Thank you for understanding me better than I understand myself, Yiren."
The flame-haired woman bowed over her task and said no more. In the back of her mind, Topiara warmed and produced conflicting emotions – relief and still more disquiet. Lyara shook her head and dismissed what her power stone was trying to tell her – choosing to listen instead to what had gone on between herself and Yiren. There was a great deal she'd need to think about during the next watch.
The little campfire hadn't lasted long, but had been enough to cook the pair of lopers that Jilan's skill with his bow had once more brought to the group. Lyara had taken charge of giving the ponies a healthy drink of water from a container hastily cobbled from her extra pair of trousers, and then settled into the first watch again. Yiren made herself as comfortable as she could in the soft sand to the side of the remaining embers, while Farranby and Sharin laid out their blankets a short distance away.
Nighttime on the open prairie was quiet, with very little movement in the tall grass that wasn't lopers or other small rodents. The profound silence was very rarely broken by the triumphant scream of a predator catching its meal. Above, the stars sparkled brightly against the deep black of the sky. The remaining crescent of the moon barely lit anything below it.
Lyara crouched, the tether line that controlled the ponies tied loosely to her ankle, and let her eyes sweep slowly across the broad, flat surface that stretched out endlessly in front of her. And while her eyes watched the horizon for the slightest sign of approach, her mind was wrestling with the continuing sense of disquiet in the back of her mind that Topiara refused to explain.
"She's not threatening me," she finally grumbled aloud to her power stone, wrenching a clump of prairie grass from its roots and tossing it as far as she could in frustration. "She wants to respect us."
"You're talking to yourself," Jilan remarked softly as he came up behind her – knowing that he was best served announcing himself that way so that he wouldn't overly surprise or startle her.
"Not exactly," she replied, looking over her shoulder at him as he came up to crouch on the ground next to her. "I'm having an argument with Topiara."
Jilan's arm settled comfortably across her shoulders, and Lyara allowed herself to relax just a little bit back against him with a soft sigh. "Argument about what?"
"Does Rompalin ever tell you things and then not explain them?" she asked instead.
"Sometimes," Jilan admitted. "Not often, though. Is Topiara being deliberately vague lately?"
"I hate it," Lyara said vehemently. "I feel like between the Oracle and Topiara, I've been put in a deep, dark hole and am being expected to feel my way out again."
"Is this part of what has made you so distant today?"
She nodded and then leaned her head into his shoulder for a short time. "I'm sorry."
The arm tightened across her shoulder. "Don't be. Let me help."
"I don't know that you can," she told him in a small voice. "I'm finding out things about myself that I don't exactly like very much."
Jilan kissed her forehead. "Like what?"
Lyara could feel herself pull into a tight little ball inside. If this was a part of herself that she didn't like, how much less she wanted to expose this to HIM – in case he didn't like it either, and it served as a cause to drive them apart. "The fact that I can't trust myself to see things for the way they are," she replied cryptically.
"For example?"
She shook her head. "Just promise me that if you ever start to think that you'll tell me if you start to think that this… between us… isn't working anymore."
"Oh, Lya!" Jilan turned and put his arms completely around her. "I told you, I love you. That isn't something that will come and go like a summer storm. I told you, we can't take back what we've done – the commitment we've made." He buried his nose in the short hair at her neck. "You're the one I was looking for – you're all I want. We'll make this work, I promise."
Lyara's free arm came up and held onto him tightly. "I love you," she whispered. She had to believe him – she HAD to. Jilan had never lied to her before, and there was no reason for him to start. Topiara was just being alarmist.
Maybe things would start getting clearer when they were closer to the trees – closer to the day when Yiren could return to her people and not be a factor in her life at all. Maybe then Topiara would stop being so damned difficult.
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