Fire Arrow (20 page)

She asked Jacan if she could sleep on the Storm Petrel; he told her she was daft and refused outright. So she, slept with the windows of her little hut wide open, and that seemed to help, though more often than not she woke shivering, her blankets drenched with rain and, occasionally, snow.

***

Slowly the storms began to be less savage; the boats could go out more often and for longer periods of time. Brie rejoiced in the return to work, though was still troubled by the occasional dream of bird or bell tower. Lom's boat suddenly stopped looking like a skeleton as it neared completion. Brie was there when Lom, Jacan, and Ferg hoisted the mast into place.

"She's yar," said Jacan tersely, squinting up, and Brie thought Lom looked like one of Hyslin's roosters, preening, a wide foolish grin splitting his face. She told him so, and he let out a great laugh and got her to admit his boat was one of the finest she'd seen.

"Not that I've seen all that many," she said, getting in the last word.

 

The day Lom's boat was taken down to the water, Brie was late getting up. She'd had the bell tower dream during the night and hadn't fallen into a sound sleep until the early hours of the morning.

She grabbed an oatcake and hurried to the shore. From a distance she could see a knot of men gathered around Lom's boat. There were woven garlands of sea grass and seaweed draped around the prow, and the men were bending their shoulders to her newly painted sides. Brie paused, holding very still. The boat slid into the water, and it was as if life had been breathed into her as she bobbed and dipped on the sea waves.

Lom jumped on board and quickly turned the boat into the wind. The sail filled, and Brie grinned as she watched the ketch skim over the water.

Lom caught sight of Brie making her way down the path to the harbor and waved. She waved back.

Lom had been very secretive about what he would name the boat, holding off until the last minute to paint the name on the prow. Brie strained to see. There it was: Hela. The name of Lom's favorite star cluster. Brie's cheeks reddened slightly as she remembered their conversation on the deep water.

Lom soon brought the boat in, and all had a turn sailing her.

***

The signs of spring were everywhere; in the cuckoo's repeating refrain, and in the fragile blue silla blossoms that pushed through the muddy soil. Even on the water, Brie could see the difference, from the larger flocks of vocal seabirds to the somehow friendlier hues and rhythms of the water itself.

Then it was the day of Hyslin and Gwil's binding ceremony. It dawned clear and bright, and the smells of grasses and newly sprouted spring flowers were carried on the breeze.

The finished cyrtel had been delivered the night before by the seamstress in the village who did the fine embroidery on the bodice and sleeves. That morning Brie helped Hyslin put it on. It was a wonder of a gown, all light and glowing, and with her rose-petal cheeks and sparkling sea blue eyes, Hyslin was radiant.

Brie wore a dress made of the cloth she had woven during the dark season. It was a soft glowing green, and though she was all too aware of the places where her hand had been less than deft, she was pleased. She also wore a pair of featherlight slippers that Hyslin had helped her fashion; they were made of cowhide and dyed green to match the dress. Before braiding her hair, Brie went to show Hyslin.

"Why, Biri, you are more beautiful than Fionna herself," Hyslin said earnestly.

"Fionna?! Your happiness must be affecting your eyesight," responded Brie with a laugh. "In truth, it is you who dims the sun's light today."

Hyslin laughed with her, catching Brie's hand in hers. "There is something I wish to ask of you, Biri."

"Yes?"

"During the binding ceremony, there is an arrow, a ceremonial arrow, which is sent aloft. It was to have been done by a friend of Father's, but he's not keen on the job because of a bout of sickness he's recovering from. I was wondering if you would do it."

"Of course. I would be honored."

"I have a necklace that would go well with your dress," Hyslin said. "That is, if you wanted something a bit, uh, prettier than..." She trailed off, blushing a little.

Brie's hand went to her panner. "You mean you don't think a leather thong is quite right for the occasion?" she asked with a wry smile. "You know, Rilla made it for me. Have I ever showed it to you?"

Hyslin shook her head and her eyes seemed to mist.

"I miss Rilla," she said. Blinking back her tears, Hyslin leaned forward to peer at the panner. "'Tis an arrow," she said thoughtfully. "Perhaps it is the arrow of binding."

Brie looked incredulous.

"No, it is possible," Hyslin said. "Rilla used to see things. Father would always say she might turn out to be a wyll one day, but then Ladran came and..." Hyslin trailed off, her eyes again bright.

"I'm sorry," Brie said awkwardly, wishing she had never brought the panner to Hyslin's attention.

"No, I'm fine. In truth, I am glad to be thinking of Rilla on my binding day." Hyslin smiled. She quickly pinned a gillyflower behind each of Brie's ears and told her to leave her hair as it was; in Dungal, she said, unmarried maidens wore their hair loose on wedding days.

The food and drink had been conveyed in many trips to the Storm Petrel over the past few days. The night before, the children of the village had gathered cannyll-pryf, or candle flies, which came to Ardara when the weather began to warm. They captured them in clay pots with loosely woven linen tied over the top. These pots had been carefully stowed in the hold of each fishing boat.

By the time the sun was directly overhead, the fishing fleet of Ardara, with most of the village aboard, had arrayed itself in a wide circle in the center of the bay. Their sails were furled, and each boat had sent ribboned nosegays of crocus, bluebells, and silla up the mast. The boats were lashed very closely together, and the anchors were lowered. From her place on the starboard side of the Storm Petrel, Brie could see Lom's boat bobbing on the water several boats down, with Lom and his parents and several others on board.

Sago stood by the mast of Jacan's boat. He looked more ethereal than ever in his ceremonial singing robe, a long white garment decorated with sparkling, beaded pictures of fish, dolphins, and whales that glittered in the midday sun.

Earlier that morning, as they had set bottles of wine into the hold of the Storm Petrel, Jacan had muttered to Brie that he hoped the Sea Dyak sorcerer would not forget what he was about and break into one of his nonsense songs instead of the song of binding. But when the time came, Sago gently and clearly led the couple through the words of union. And he sang the song of binding, the cwl cano, with great solemnity.

The sorcerer's voice filled the bay—an astonishing, bursting sound from such a frail source, thought Brie—accompanied by the sound of waves slapping against the boats' hulls.

Brie watched the serious, radiant faces of the two young people as Sago wove their fingers together to form the symbolic rhwyd, or fishing net. This lacing of hands, Ferg whispered to Brie, would ensure bounty and joy in the years to come.

When the song finally died on Sago's lips, a pair of fiddlers standing on the stern of the Storm Petrel began to play a lively air, and Gwil joyfully gathered Hyslin in his arms. He danced her across the deck of the Storm Petrel and back again. Hyslin's eyes were as bright as the sunlight glittering on the waves. Musicians on the other boats took up the melody, and the fisherfolk began stamping their feet and clapping their hands in rhythm with the dancing couple.

Suddenly Gwil danced Hyslin to the starboard side of the Storm Petrel and, twirling her feet up into the air, he tossed his bride across the water to the next boat in the circle. She was deftly caught by the sturdy bearded fisherman whose boat it was, and he in turn danced Hyslin across the deck of his fishing boat. After their brief dance, the bearded fisherman tossed Hyslin to the next boat in the circle. And on and on, until Hyslin had danced on each boat and come full circle to the Storm Petrel.

Ferg told Brie this, too, was an old custom, and that it bestowed good fortune to have a newly married woman dance on the deck of your fishing boat. He made Brie laugh by telling her a story about one year when a bride, whose girth was twice that of her husband's, had wound up in the sea when one fisherman had bobbled the toss from deck to deck. It was said that that particular fisherman had a very poor yield of fish that year.

By the time Hyslin had completed the circle her legs were wobbly, but her smile was no less radiant, and she returned to Gwil's arms for more dancing.

Thereupon all commenced to dance, and before she had time to figure out how he'd gotten from his boat to the Storm Petrel, Brie found Lom at her side. Without a word he swept her into his arms and they were dancing.

For a moment Brie panicked, her legs feeling as stiff and unbending as the legs of an oystercatcher. But her feet somehow found the rhythm of the music and she relaxed. Brie closed her eyes, a smile curving her lips. She was dancing.

Brie and Lom danced until the setting sun turned the sky orange, then purple, then a dark, deep blue. Just before the sun went down, Brie looked up to see Sago standing at the mast, gazing at her as she danced.

Then, on an impulse, Brie looked Lom full in the face and for the first time saw his true feelings for her. She did not look away.

Lom was a kind man. Perhaps Hela could be their fishing boat, together. And perhaps she need not ever dream of yellow birds and bell towers again. Brie's feet spun and twirled and flew over the wooden deck.

It was dark now and the music slowed. The children ran for their jars of candle flies. The dancers moved forward, lining the rails of the boats. As a lone harper played, the children let loose the cannyll-pryf. Hundreds of the insects scattered, flying upward. They glowed like golden pearls hanging in the air, their lights pulsing on and off.

As Brie and Lom watched the candle flies dance in the night sky, Lom's large, warm hand enfolded Brie's, and she left it there. She was unaware of the knowing glances and the whispers that went around the circle of boats.

Brie loosed her hand from Lom's only when Hyslin appeared before her, bearing the arrow of binding. Brie gazed at it. Where the arrowhead would have been was the skeleton of a fish head, and the fletching had been worked in sea roses, with ribbons trailing from the ends.

Jacan brought Brie her bow from the hold, and she stood at the very tip of the prow. She nocked the ribboned, flowered arrow to her string. Fara, who had disappeared during the dancing, materialized suddenly at Brie's side. Brie glanced down at the sleek, wet head of the faol and smiled. Then she let fly. The arrow soared through the pulsing lights of the cannyll-pryf and cleaved the water almost directly in the center of the circle formed by the fishing boats.

As a cheer went up from the fisherfolk, Brie remembered Rilla's panner. An arrow flying over the water. Perhaps Hyslin was right, Brie thought. She plucked the panner from the bodice of her dress and peered at it. In the flickering light of the torches, she saw that what she had taken for the fire arrow might easily be the arrow from the binding ceremony, with candle flies flickering around it.

Brie closed her fingers around the panner. A candle fly brushed her cheek.

The music started up again and there was more dancing. Brie danced with Ferg and Jacan and a few of the other fishermen, but mostly she danced with Lom. Gradually, though, the ropes between boats were untied, and one by one the fishing boats began making their way back to shore. Snatches of song and laughter could be heard floating over the water.

Hyslin and Gwil departed in a small horse-drawn cart gaily decorated with seaweed, flowers, and ribbons. It took them to their new home, a cottage on Gwil's father's farmhold.

Brie stood with Lom on the shore watching the last few flickering candle flies and listening to the sounds of a fiddle coming from the few boats still anchored in the bay.

Lom turned to Brie with an earnest expression. "Biri, I—"

"Lom!" Lotte's voice came, sharp and nervous. She and Farmer Garmon rode up in their curricle. "Come, quickly."

"What is it?"

"Your father and I would speak with you," Lotte said loudly. Brie caught a glimpse of Farmer Garmon's face in the moonlight. He looked uncomfortable, his eyes fixed on the horse's reins.

Lom hesitated.

"It's news from your sister in Dungloe," Farmer Garmon said reluctantly after a nudge from Lotte.

"But cannot Biri...," Lom began.

"Go on, Lorn," said Brie. "I will meet you in the morning.

Reluctantly Lorn swung himself into the back of his parents' curricle and was soon out of sight.

Brie made her way home, Fara gliding alongside. Brie found herself humming a melody she had danced to on the Storm Petrel. When she arrived at the hut, she poured Fara a bowl of milk, then took out the fire arrow and sat on her pallet, still wearing the green dress. She held the arrow loosely in her hands. There was something different about the humming on her fingers tonight. It was urgent, like Lotte's voice through the darkness.

"What is it?" she said softly.

And suddenly she saw Sago. He lay on the beach, face-up, waves foaming around his spindly legs. His singing robe was crumpled, crusted with sand, and his eyes were closed.

Brie dropped the arrow, frightened. She had not been asleep or dreaming, and yet it was like one of her dreams. Could it be true? Was Sago hurt? She tried to remember when she had seen him last. She thought she remembered seeing him leave on his boat, Gor-gwynt, soon after Brie had shot the arrow of binding. Brie blinked. Her eyesight was blurred and her eyelids felt heated. Fara licked her hand. It took several minutes for her sight to clear.

Brie ran most of the way to Sago's mote, Fara alongside her. When the water came in sight, Brie spotted a small boat making its way north. She recognized the markings on the sail as those belonging to a fisherman who was one of the innkeeper's cronies. She did not remember seeing him or the innkeeper at the binding ceremony. Then the moon came out from behind some clouds, and Brie could make out three men in the boat: The innkeeper and the fisherman, and the third looked like the Traveler with the red lips. Almost reflexively Brie ducked into the cover of some bushes. Soon the boat rounded a bend and was out of sight.