Free [Firebringer 03] - The Son of Summer Stars by Meredith Ann Pierce Page B

foaled upon the Mare’s Back and wist little of her reclusive, warring clan. But I pledged to search and bring word if she would await me nightly on this spot. She was grateful, relieved beyond measure. Venturing the Plain entailed great risk for her. Besides danger from dogs and pards, if discovered, she might have been cast from her band. Simply conversing with me was counted treason.
    “The harshness of her people’s lives astonished me: hidebound by tradition, imprisoned by Law. How, I wondered, could one raised within such strictures have even conceived this defiance: to dare to follow her own heart rather than the dictates of capricious kings? For all her people’s warlike bent, they seemed to my mind to be cowards all, afraid to think and do for themselves.
    “This young mare’s plan to return her friend to what she believed the safe haven of her Vale was surely bold. Yet in truth, my sympathies were all for the other, the one who had leapt the confines of the Vale and fled to the open Plain. In the space of a heartbeat, I envisioned a plan: that if I could indeed find my love’s lost companion, perhaps I and that one together might convince her to remain at liberty upon the Plain.
    “She and I parted ere the paling of the stars: she—hopeful but wary still—to return to her summering band; I flush with determination. I scoured the Plain, importuning every passerby for news, imploring those I met to search upon their travels for my belovèd’s friend and send me word. Always I returned by nightfall to meet with the poppy-maned mare, bring her what news I had gleaned—maddeningly little, most days.
    “She never seemed disappointed, as at first I had feared, only sad, and hopeful still, and patient, ready to wait as long as need be. After we spoke each night, she appeared reluctant to go. So we spoke on, I telling her of my life and my people’s ways, she telling me of hers. I learnt more of them from her than ever I could have dreamt.
    “Slowly, she warmed to me. I sensed she kept our meetings for more than just the chance of news. I sensed she began to look to me for companionship, that she enjoyed my company more and more. I sang her songs of our folk—I was a young singer then, and my store of stories small. She recited for me those of her own folk’s lays that she could recall. Our friendship deepened with each waning night.
    “Then at last, word came. A passing band knew of the mare I sought. Another wayfarer spoke of a Gather. The mare for whom I searched would likely gather with the rest to dance the longdance. Excitedly, I told my friend from the Vale. We struck off across the Plain, flying like the wind, and reached the milling celebrants just at dusk. My friend spotted her comrade and ran to her, calling gladly.
    “My love’s fellow at first mistook her for a new Renegade like herself and welcomed her eagerly to the Plain. Soon, however, my love’s intentions became clear. The two mares quarreled, cajoled, discussed and reconciled, each seeking to convince the other to join her. I hung back, uncertain, avid to support the other mare’s arguments, yet fearing to intrude. Meanwhile, all around us, the longdance began, its rhythm swelling, ebbing, and rising again.
    “At last, my love’s friend turned from her and disappeared into the quickening rush. My heart beat hard. Before me, my love stood shaken, confused. Clearly, she had believed persuasion would be easy after the difficult trial of finding her friend. Instead, her comrade had refused to return to the Vale and pressed my love hard to remain. She had spoken convincingly, I saw, touting her newfound freedom. My beloved wavered. Made bold, I, too, now spoke, declaring my passionate love.
    “All around us, our fellows coursed, snorting and plunging, stamping and swirling. Their throb, the tow of their motion overwhelmed us both. She followed me as one lost in a daze. We entered the dance. ’T swept us along, two dreamers caught in