Free Among the Powers by Lawrence Watt-Evans

longer be sustained she
yields to despair and flees to the south, where she can weep
unseen, and the whole world lies cold and dead beneath unchecked
winter.
    “ And there, at last, her love finds her again,
and takes her to their bower in the east, where their love brings
springtime back to the land...”
    — from the tales of Kithen the
Storyteller
    “Where are we?” Bredon asked shakily as the platform
finally slowed and began its descent. They had soared up across the
mountains, across peaks wrapped in snow despite the lingering
summer, across heights Bredon had never imagined and drops—into
canyons, over cliffs, down rubble-strewn slopes—that he had only
considered in his worst nightmares. He had lived his entire life on
the plains; to be able to look down at treetops, without so much as
a railing between himself and kilometers of empty space, was
terrifying—but oddly exhilarating, as well.
    Most strange and wonderful of all, he had
felt not the slightest gust of wind or change in temperature the
entire time. This dealing with Powers was an awesome thing.
    “That’s Autumn House ahead,” Geste said,
pointing. “It’s just about the time of year when Sheila opens it
for the season, and I thought Sunlight might have come to help. She
often does. And if she hasn’t, Sheila still might know where
Sunlight is. If Sheila’s here, that is.”
    Bredon followed the pointing finger and saw
a rambling structure that straggled down from a hilltop in a
succession of wings and terraces. Autumn House was larger than his
entire village. Even if Lady Sunlight were somewhere in it, he
thought, it might take hours to find her.
    The prospect of seeing Lady Sunlight again,
of perhaps speaking to her, was, like the ride through the air,
both frightening and exhilarating. His memory of her beauty stirred
his lust for her anew, and he forced himself to stay calm and think
of other things. “Who is Sheila?” he asked, his voice a little
steadier this time.
    “I believe you call her the Lady of the
Seasons,” Geste replied.
    “Ah.” Even Bredon had, of course, heard of
her. She was a major Power, who lived in the east in the spring,
the north in summer, the west in autumn, and the south in winter.
She was said to control the weather, among other things; the spring
rains did not come until she had moved from south to east, the
grass did not turn brown until she had gone from north to west, and
so forth.
    Bredon had always considered this to be
unlikely, but he had never argued the matter or come up with a
better explanation for the turning seasons. He had accepted the
Lady of the Seasons as a metaphor or a symbol, and had left the
question of her existence open.
    It had never occurred to him that she might
not only exist, but would have a name, as well as a title, and he
would certainly never have guessed she might bear so simple a name
as Sheila.
    Of course, that name might just be a
nickname Geste used.
    It had also never occurred to Bredon that he
might someday meet her.
    He was reminded again that he was here, in
mid-air, dealing with the Powers directly and familiarly—not just
people with mysterious powers, but the Powers. This was not just an immense mansion, it was the supposed home of autumn
itself. He stared at Autumn House for a moment longer, then stole a
glance at Geste.
    Geste was whispering, though there was no
one on the platform save the two of them. Bredon thought for an
instant that Geste was talking to him, then that Geste was talking
to himself, and finally decided that he was talking to someone or
something that mere mortals could not see or hear, a familiar or
spirit of some sort.
    “We could call ahead now and tell Sheila
we’re coming,” Geste said aloud. “And if Sunlight is here she
wouldn’t be able to slip away without our seeing her—at least, not
easily—but I think it should be fun to surprise them. I’ve arranged
for our approach to be silent and unheralded, no courtesy
announcements