Authors: Juliet Marillier
I’d begged for more information, but Dorin had none. The crate had come with a carter, who couldn’t say how long the foreigner was staying in these parts. This carter would still be in our village, Dorin had told me, as he needed to load up for a return trip. If I wanted to send a message, perhaps a thank-you, I might be able to catch him before he left.
So I’d dispatched Stela back up to the family picnic to say I would be a little while, left the dog in Petru’s care, and run all the way down to the village. No time to write a note; anyway, if I did that and it turned out the recipient was unable to read it, his pride would be wounded and he might decide to walk away as he’d done before. I had to make my message simple and honest, as well as suitable to be conveyed publicly by a complete stranger. In the end, I’d told the carter to go straight to the sender of the dog and tell him Paula conveyed her heartfelt thanks and would very much like to see him as soon as possible.
Now I lay in the darkness and imagined Stoyan’s hand brushing the hair back from my temple; I felt his gentle touch on my ankle, tending to the hurt he had unwittingly inflicted. I saw him with a twig between his fingers, making careful letters in the sand tray. I saw him fighting off twenty men, a miracle of strength and skill. I stood on his shoulders as we traversed a lake full of menacing shapes. I clutched his hand as we fled along dark underground ways. I remembered his arms around me, his lips against my hair as he murmured words of comfort that I could not understand. I heard myself botching the job of telling him how I felt. I saw the expression on his face that last day at the han after he watched Duarte kiss me: the look of a man whose heart has been twisted apart.
“You have one last chance to get this right, Paula,” I muttered to myself, hugging the quilt around me. “Don’t mess it up this time.”
Just before dawn, I did sleep for a little, and I dreamed of Tati. She was not clad in the swathing black garments of the quest but wore a delicate gown of white, gossamer sheer over a silk undershift. She sat on the bed that she and Jena used to share when we were younger, her dark hair making a rippling shawl over her shoulders and her big violet-blue eyes fixed on me solemnly. She was not alone. Others hovered half visible behind her in the darkness: Sorrow with his pale face and shadowy eyes; a taller form crowned with a crest of feathers; a tiny one with long silver hair and ferocious pointed teeth. My scholar friends were there in their eccentric hats, nodding and smiling their greetings. I knew I was dreaming, and at the same time I knew it was real, like all the manifestations of the Other Kingdom. They existed on a different plane from our everyday world of trading and farming, of marriages and children, of struggle and achievement. But they were always with us, guiding us along, helping us to be brave and good and wise.
“Good luck, Paula,” Tati said. She touched her fingers to her lips and blew me a kiss. “I’ll see you soon. Very soon, I hope.” But when I tried to return the gesture and to ask when and how Ileana would let her come to us, the vision faded, and I sank into a dreamless slumber from which I was awoken by Stela ordering me to get up because that man might be coming to see me today and I had to make sure I was looking my best.
The morning seemed endless. I hung about indoors, not wanting to be away from the house when he came—if he came—but quite unable to settle to anything. The dog got underfoot and chewed one of Petru’s slippers. Stela kept nagging me about what I was wearing and how I had done my hair and a thousand other things until I snapped at her and sent her sulking off to our bedchamber. I went up and apologized, and we played a game of chess in which she almost beat me, a sure sign that my concentration was at a very low ebb. I made her promise that if Stoyan did come, she would stay out of the way while I talked to him.
Father had seemed genuinely delighted to hear that Stoyan was in the district and that I had invited him to come up to Piscul Dracului. He made no comment on the dog, save to say that it would be a useful addition to the household. He said nothing at all about the circumstances of our departure from Istanbul. He would be in the workroom for the day, he told us, but we must call him when Stoyan arrived. His restraint was remarkable; I could not have wished for a more understanding parent.
Around midday, Florica bundled me off outdoors, saying the dog needed exercise and so did I. As I went out, I heard her say, “Now, Stela, I’ve a mind to make those walnut pastries just in case we have guests. I’ll need your help with chopping the nuts; it’s too much for my old hands these days….”
I hadn’t intended to go far, but it was another lovely day and the dog’s enthusiasm was hard to resist. I took a ball up to the top field and tried to teach him to fetch. He was good at the chasing and catching part, taking off like an arrow, seizing the ball and shaking it to and fro as if he planned to kill it on the spot. Then he would drop it at his own feet and stand watching me expectantly. Having never trained a dog before, I had trouble conveying to him exactly what he was supposed to do. We worked on it together. I became tired; the dog was keen to go on forever. I slipped and got grass stains on my skirt; the dog rolled in something interesting. At least the activity had distracted me from my anxieties for a little, I thought as I sat down for a breather and he took up a relaxed guard position next to me, tongue lolling. But Stoyan had never been far from my thoughts. What if he didn’t come? What if he turned up and I found myself lost for words? What if all he had in mind was a polite visit? Just because I was feeling like this, as if I wanted to laugh and cry and sing and dance all at once, did not mean he would be feeling the same. A year might have cured him entirely of those feelings that had made him look so drained the day we parted. Best stay calm. Best think out carefully what I would say, word by word….
The dog went from a lying pose to a hurtling run in an instant, barking wildly. I started, then rose slowly to my feet. A familiar figure was climbing over the stile at the bottom of the field, a big, pale-skinned figure with thick dark hair and a scar on his cheek. He was not in his Turkish-style dolman now but wore a linen shirt, a plain waistcoat, close-fitting trousers, and serviceable boots. The dog reached him and jumped up ecstatically. Stoyan made a firm gesture, and the creature dropped obediently to sit. He bent to scratch the dog behind the ears, then straightened, shading his eyes with a hand, gazing up toward me.
I realized the dog had the right idea. The best words for such a moment were no words at all. I ran down the hill through the grass and the bright spring flowers, not even thinking about the stains on my skirt or my untidy hair or anything but the fact that Stoyan was here at last and that in an instant we would be together again. At ten paces away, he opened his arms, and when I reached him, I threw myself into them and was picked up and whirled around as if I were a little child. When he stopped turning, he brought me slowly down, my body against his all the way, until my feet were on the bottom step of the stile. His arms folded around me like a barrier against all the ills of the world; his cheek was wet against mine. I was crying, too, crying and laughing and wondering how it was possible to have such tumultuous, thrilling sensations coursing through me and at the same time feel utterly safe.
“Paula,” Stoyan murmured. “Oh, Paula….”
“I thought I’d never see you again,” I whispered, my arms around his neck, my lips against his cheek. “You didn’t even say goodbye—”
Stoyan stopped my words with a kiss. And if Duarte’s kiss had been nice, enjoyable, a little exciting, this one eclipsed it in every way. I drowned in it, my body melting with delight. For a precious few moments, there was more magic here than in all the realms of the Other Kingdom. When we broke apart, we were both breathless.
“Stoyan,” I said, “any moment now my little sister’s going to come running up here to tell me you’ve arrived; she’s beside herself with curiosity. I have to say something before she gets here, just in case you…” It no longer seemed possible that he would turn me down. His kiss had told me eloquently that he felt the same as I did. “I love you, Stoyan,” I said, feeling suddenly shy. “I was working up to telling you that night after we came out of the cave, but I got it all wrong, and then you were so grim and forbidding, and…”
“Shall we sit down on the grass here?” Stoyan said gently, drawing me down beside him. “If we are below the line of the wall, perhaps this sister may not see us until we have said what we must say.” He settled himself against the stone wall, placing me between his knees, my back against his chest. In this position he could wrap his arms around me from behind, which I found I liked very much. The dog flopped down beside us. “I hope you like my gift,” he went on. “I know our wager was canceled, but I was not quite brave enough to come here in person until I knew you would receive me. I made an error of judgment, Paula, a grievous one. I ran away. I could not bring myself to say goodbye to you. I have caused you pain; myself as well.”
“Did you actually think I would marry Duarte? Couldn’t you see how I felt about you?”
There was a lengthy pause, and then Stoyan said, “Your father had told me of Duarte’s visit and offer of marriage. Not knowing the depth of my feelings for you, he saw no harm in sharing that news. And when Duarte returned, you kissed him. He held you as a lover does. You gave him your lips as if you…as if you felt more than friendship for him. It seemed plain to me that you had accepted his offer. I knew Duarte could give you what you wanted, what you needed. Our journey had shown me that he was a good man beneath the surface and that he cared for you. I could protect you. I could be brave. I could be a friend of sorts. But I could never be your equal in learning, in conversation, in skills of the mind. He was your equal. He could offer a life rich with possibilities. I had my brother to find, my mother waiting at home for news. I had a path to follow that must take me far from you.”
“So you stepped back. After all the trials we had been through together, after we had become so close, you believed I would accept Duarte?” I brought his palm to my lips and heard his indrawn breath.
“It had seemed to me thus ever since I watched the two of you dancing on the night of the celebration,” Stoyan said. “Your list of reasons why we were ill matched wounded me even as I recognized its truth. I took it to mean your feelings were less strong than my own. I believed that to say yes to you would end in heartbreak for both of us, Paula. I am ashamed that I misjudged you so. At the time, to step away seemed the honorable choice. Indeed, I was angry with myself for being such a fool as to dream that you might love me as I did you, deeply, truly, with an intensity that crowded out all arguments to the contrary. So I went my own way, hoping the memory would fade in time.”
“What brought you back? Stoyan, what about Taidjut? Did you find him?”
His tone became somber. “He lives. Your theory was correct; he carries a position of some authority, the second in charge to a provincial governor. After making some further inquiries, I went back to the region of our adventure. The plague had passed. Many were lost, but they are strong folk in those parts, and my brother and his superior had taken steps to limit the spread of the disease. He agreed to see me, not in public but in a carefully controlled setting where his privacy was strictly guarded. He seemed content. He spoke like a Turkish nobleman. He asked me to convey his respects to our mother but made it clear he wishes no further contact with his family. For him, that life is over, forgotten. Taidjut has a new religion, a new culture, a new responsibility. He wishes to obliterate from his mind what he was before the devshirme. To do otherwise would be to negate the years of learning, to reduce to nothing the sacrifices he has made. So he believes. There was no choice for me but to accept that.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said, deciding I would not ask if Taidjut was a eunuch or had been left a whole man. “I’m very sad for you and your mother. But at least he is well and has a good life.”
“I came back through Istanbul, intending to bear the news home to my mother. To my surprise, I saw the
Esperança
in port. I had expected you and Duarte to sail back to Portugal when your father departed. Not long after my arrival, I met Duarte at a coffeehouse. It was then that I learned you had refused him, Paula, and from that moment my heart began to mend. I questioned him closely. Duarte assured me that your feelings for him were those of a dear friend only. This, he said, you had made very plain when you refused his offer. He added that it was quite apparent to him that your reasons for turning him down related to me. He urged me to seek you out and speak boldly of my love for you.”
“Go on,” I said, hoping very much that I would hear all of this before Stela made an appearance.
“I could not come to you straightaway. I had to travel home to see my mother. The news of Taidjut was difficult for her. I felt obliged to stay awhile and help her on the farm. At the same time, I undertook some studies with the priest and gave consideration to the future. Eventually, my mother told me quite firmly that it was time to sort things out with you. I was somewhat fearful. I did not know yet that you truly returned my feelings. When you came running toward me with your hair flying, when you threw your arms around me, that was the best moment of my life. And now, I have something for you.” He fished in a leather bag he had slung over his shoulder.
“Another gift? The dog is plenty.”
“The dog is part of the future,” he said solemnly, drawing a kidskin pouch out of the bag and setting it in my hand. It was heavy. “This is another part. Open it, Paula.”
I loosened the strings and looked inside, and my breath stopped in my throat. The pouch was stuffed with gold coins. By the weight, I knew it was a small fortune, more money than I had ever seen at one time before.
“Proceeds from the sale of my reward, the one the old woman said I might take from Cybele’s treasure trove,” he told me quietly. “I purchased this dog and another, a female, so we will have a breeding pair. I gave my mother enough to have some improvements made to the farm. But the remainder, the bulk of the funds, was always intended for you. I chose what to take away from the cave with a particular purpose in mind. The money is to help you start your bookselling business. When I thought you would marry Duarte, I could not bring myself to speak to you of this plan, for it made me seem foolish, deluded.”