Brin wasn’t a Dureyan girl—she was softer than that—but she wasn’t a Tirre lady, either. Long brown hair, face as cute as a morning chipmunk, with high cheeks and smiling eyes. Since the weather had warmed, he’d seen her in the training yard, always with that satchel. Everyone else noticed her, too. Even the old men watched for Brin, and when she sat out on the grass, the trainees nudged each other and pointed—first at her and then at him. This warning gesture spread until all the other students moved away, fearful of being paired with Tesh. When Brin was there, he had a tendency to show off.
Tesh wasn’t intimidated by many things, but pretending to look for Roan that day had been the most frightening thing he’d done since reaching Alon Rhist. It hadn’t gone as well as he had hoped. All that talk about raow, footprints, and voices in the night didn’t set the right tone. At first, he thought she might have been messing with him, but when he found the clawed footprint around the corner, he had to take that seriously. Since then, he’d made a habit of going for nightly walks down by her house. He’d circle it, then sit in the shadows by the well, waiting to see if anything was lurking around. Nothing ever was, and when he got too cold, he’d head back to the barracks. Tesh wasn’t sure what he was looking for, didn’t know what a raow looked like, but if anything tried to hurt Brin, he’d take his training out for a test run.
Since their first meeting, he’d spoken to her after every practice. The last four times she’d allowed him to hold her hand. This time he hoped to kiss her. The thought had his heart racing. As usual, she was making black marks on incredibly thin sheets of skin with a featherless quill. Usually, she stopped well before he reached her, but this time her brows were furrowed and her tongue stuck partway out of her mouth. According to Moya and some of the others, Tesh did the same thing when aiming a bow. Another connection. This had to be destiny…Didn’t it?
“Hi again,” he said when she failed to look up. None of his training had included classes in eloquence. He had learned how to curse in three languages, but somehow he didn’t think calling her a whore in Grenmorian or Fhrey would impress Brin.
She looked up, and rapidly sucked in her tongue, making a little slurping sound. She opened her mouth after that, but didn’t say anything. She just stared.
She’s finally fed up, tired of me bothering her, probably wants me to leave. You shouldn’t talk to that Dureyan boy!
Every muscle in his body contracted, and he started to sweat. He needed to say something. For the first time in a half-dozen visits, he asked, “What are you doing?”
She continued to stare for a few more seconds, then looked down at her lap as if she’d forgotten. “Oh—I, ah…I was writing.”
“Writing?”
“Yeah, I’m the Keeper of Ways for the Rhulyn clans, and I—”
“You are?” he blurted out, hating himself. He was shocked because he thought Keepers were old, like that Padera hag. The one in Dureya had been. He just couldn’t imagine a girl as young as Brin being a Keeper. Still, he should have known she wasn’t just some girl. She was an orphan, but she was in Alon Rhist. All the other women in the Rhist were married to, or daughters of, serving soldiers. The rest stayed home in their villages to tend animals and babies. If she was at the Rhist, she had to be special.
Brin nodded. “I thought you knew.”
Tesh shook his head. “I don’t know much, but I guess being Keeper you know everything.”
“I think you’re confusing Keepers with gods. I only know the history of the clans.”
“Still, that’s not easy, right?” He was trying to compliment her—sort of like doing a backward parry with his off hand in a first match. He hoped this went better.
“I had to memorize the ancient stories word for word from the last Keeper, Maeve.”
“How long did that take?”
“Years. I started listening when I was real young. Made my first recital, of the Song of Estuary, when I was five. That’s when Maeve really started training me, but there were still a few things I never completely learned. That’s what this is all about.” She laid a hand on the stack of markings. “I’m working at making a permanent account of those stories, so anyone can know them.”
Tesh knelt down on one knee and leaned in to look at all the wavy marks she’d made. “Is it magic?” He knew that the keenig had magicians working for her. He also knew all of them were women.
“No, these marks just represent sounds, the same ones we speak when talking. If you know which marks make what sounds, you can read them.”