One of the stewards, eating his meal at a side table where he could be quickly summoned at need, raised his head and said, in a diffident, rusty voice, “Domna, if that is truly your wish, there are kireseth flowers on the hillside above the pasture where the twin foals were born, the one where the old stone bridge stands. I do not know if they are in bloom still, but my brother saw them when he rode that way three days ago.”
“Truly?” Callista said. “I thank you, Rimal. If the weather holds fine — though it is not likely to — I shall ride that way tomorrow and replenish my store.”
That night there was neither rain nor snow, and after breakfast, when Kieran Ridenow had taken his leave — Dom Esteban urged him to stay for a few days, but he said he must take advantage of the good weather — Callista ordered her horse saddled. Dom Esteban frowned when he saw her in her riding skirt.
“I do not like this, Callista. Chiya, when I was a lad it was always said that no woman should ride alone in the hills when the kireseth is in bloom.”
Callista laughed. “Father, do you truly think—”
“You are comynara, child, and none of our own would harm you, mad or sane, but there might be strangers or outlaws in the hills.”
“I will take Ferrika with me,” she said gaily. “She has had the training of an Amazon Guild-house, and can defend herself against any man born, whether he intend robbery or rape.”
But Ferrika, summoned in half seriousness, refused to go. “The dairyman’s wife is near her term and may give birth today, domna,” she said. “It would hardly be seemly to leave my proper task and go pleasure-riding into the hills. You have a husband, my lady, ask him to ride with you.”
There was not much for Andrew to do about the estate — the repairs from the storm had been completed, and the ranch was still in its winter dormancy, despite the fine weather. He had his horse saddled.
Away from the household, he thought, when they were together, he might find the right moment to tell her about Ellemir. And the baby.
It was still early when they set out. To the east, the sky was layered with purple and black flaps of thick clouds, latticed with crimson from the sun behind. As they rode along the steep trails, looking down into the valleys below, with patches of snow clinging below the trees, and the horses on every hillside cropping the sprigs of new-sprung grass, his heart lightened. Callista had never seemed merrier, more beautiful. She sang snatches of old ballads as they rode, and once paused, childlike, at the mouth of a long valley to send a long, sweet “Hallooo — ooo — ooo” down the slope, laughing gaily when the echo came back a hundredfold from the high rocky slopes. As they rode the sun climbed the sky and the day grew warmer. She unfastened her dark blue riding cape and slung it across her saddle horn.
“I did not know you could ride so well,” Andrew said.
“Oh, yes, even at Arilinn I rode a great deal. We spend so much time indoors, in the screens and the relays, that if we did not get out of doors for exercise, we would be as stiff and lifeless as the paintings of Hastur and Cassilda in the chapel! We used to take our hawks, on holidays, and ride out into the country around Arilinn — it is not hill country like this, but flat plain — and fly them at birds and small game. I was proud that I could handle a verrin hawk, a big bird, like this” — she spread her hands apart — “not a lady-bird as most of the women did.” She laughed again, a ringing sound. “Poor Andrew, I have been captive, and ill, and house-bound, so much that you must think me some delicate fairy-tale maiden, but I am a country girl, and very strong. When I was a child I could ride as well as my brother Coryn. Now I think my mare can beat your gelding to that fence yonder!” She clucked to the horse and was off like the wind. Andrew dug in his heels and raced after her, his heart in his mouth — she was not accustomed to riding now; she would be off in a moment — but woman and horse seemed to blend into a single creature. When she reached the fence, instead of pulling up her horse, she went flying over, with a laughing cry of excitement, the gray mare rising like a bird in the air and coming down lightly on the far side. As Andrew followed, she drew her horse to a walk and they moved along more slowly, side by side.
Perhaps this was what it was to be in love, Andrew thought. Every time he saw Callista it was like the first time, always all new and surprising. But that thought stirred the guilt which was never very far away. After a few minutes she noticed his silence, turned to him, reaching her small gloved hand to his. “What is it, my husband?”
“I had something to tell you, Callista,” he said abruptly. “Did you know Ellemir is pregnant again?”
Her face was suffused with her smile. “I am so glad for her! She has been so brave, but now she will have an end to mourning and sorrow.”
“You don’t understand,” Andrew said doggedly. “She says it is my child—”
“Oh, of course,” Callista said. “She told me Damon had not wanted her to try again so soon, for fear she would… would lose it. I’m very glad, Andrew.”
Would he ever get used to their customs? He supposed it was lucky for him, but still… “Don’t you mind, Callista?”
She started to say — he almost heard the words — “Why should I mind?” but then he saw her suppress them. He was still a stranger in some ways, in spite of everything. She said at last, slowly, “No, Andrew, I truly don’t mind. I don’t suppose you do understand. But look at it this way.” She smiled again, her mirthful smile. “There will be a baby in the house, your child, and although I am fond enough of babies, I do not really want to have one yet. In fact, and this is ridiculous, Andrew,” she added, laughing, “although Ellemir and I are twins, I am not old enough to have a baby yet! Don’t you know that the midwives say no woman should bear a child until her body has been mature a full three years? And for me it is not half a year yet! Isn’t that funny? Elli and I are twins, and she is pregnant the second time, and I am not really old enough to have a baby!”
He flinched at the joke. How could she make jokes about the way in which her body had been held, immature, and yet, he realized soberly, it was her very ability to find something funny, even in this, which had saved them all from despair.
They reached the valley with the old stone bridge, where the twin foals had been born. Together they rode up the long slope, tethered their horses to a tree, and dismounted.
“Kireseth is a flower of the heights,” Callista said. “It does not grow in the tilled valleys, and probably it is a good thing. Men sometimes even weed it out when it grows on the lower slopes, because the pollen causes trouble: when it blooms, even horses and cattle are likely to behave like mad things, stampede, attack one another, mate out of season. But it is very valuable, for we make the kirian from it. And look, it is beautiful,” she said, pointing to the long grassy slope, covered with a cascade of blue flowers, shimmering with their golden stamens. Some were still blue, others like bells of gold, covered with the golden pollen.
She tied a piece of thin cloth, like a mask, over the lower part of her face. “I am trained to handle it without reacting much,” she said, “but even so, I do not want to breathe too much of it.”
He watched while she made preparations to gather the flowers, but she warned him away. “Don’t come too close, Andrew. You have never been exposed to it before. Everyone who lives in the Kilghard Hills has been through a Ghost Wind or two and knows how they will react, but it does very strange things. Stay here under the trees, with the horses.”