The Gathering Storm - Elsewhere, Book 1
Chapter 2

The first day of the New Turning dawned bright and clear. Taya could hear the distant chorus of Elven song from the high halls in the trees of Theyos Raal. Each people celebrated the New Turning in their own way but it was a feast day and a holiday for all. The Elves took it too seriously, Taya felt. For them it was all about ceremonies and traditions and speeches and weird magical stuff the Norns did to bless the New Turning. The Pixies were more fun. They would picnic in the sun by the river for most of the day, playing, laughing and swimming, then party under the trees until the early hours. This was the longest day, when the sun rose early and set late, and dusk lingered for hours after moonrise. The sprites paid no heed to calendars or sundials. They played when it was light and crept back to their nests in the dim twilight to sleep until dawn, every day the same.

Taya slipped out of bed in the shadowy end of the house where there were no windows and changed from her night shift into the pale blue moonsilk dress her mother had left out for her. She was far more used to the supple leather clothes she wore most days, which offered protection against sparks and burns, and felt more at home in her jerkin, kirtle and greaves than in the gauzy slip she now wore. It was sleeveless with a cowled neck and reached nearly to her hooves, but the skirt was slit half way up both sides to allow for her long stride. The fabric was cool enough for the heat of the day which would soon burn off the cool of early morning, but opaque enough for modesty, and it felt as soft as warm water against her skin.

Taya set a fire in the hearth at the far end of the room to make breakfast, then pulled aside the door skin and went outside. The breeze kissed her skin and she closed her eyes and breathed deeply of the dawn freshness. Taking a bucket, she walked to the well and drew water. She would make a pot of tea and start the porridge for her mother. She was in an unusually helpful mood; ‘It must be the festive spirit,’ she thought to herself.

As she carried the bucket home, taking care not to spill a drop, she spied Aysh and Mikkol walking together between two of the houses. She had not even noticed that Mikkol’s bed was empty when she rose. It was two weeks since she had confronted Aysh and she had seen them together several times since. She was sure there was more going on than Aysh would admit to and it hurt her to be excluded by the friend she loved. Aysh and Mikkol parted, each returning to their own home, and when Taya carried her pail into the house she pretended to believe Mikkol as he yawned, stretched and sat up in bed.

The day passed as the New Turning day always did. After a meal of porridge with honey, fruit and tea, they exchanged gifts. Taya’s parents gave her a beautiful necklace of woven gold wire set with polished amber stones. Taya was breathless admiring it. Gold was rare – only found in the mines along the foothills of the Lomoohr mountains on the other side of the near plains. Lyneera, one of the Pixie stall holders at the carnival, sometimes brought a few spools of gold wire back from her travels. The amber must have come from her too.

“Thank you, Mother, Father,” she said, kissing each in turn. “I wish you joy in this New Turning.”

“As we do for you,” her mother replied, stroking her hair. “This is your eighteenth New Turning. Before this Turn of the sun is over your apprenticeship will be complete. Your girlhood is almost at an end. One day soon no doubt you’ll fall in love with a handsome young man from one of the other villages and want to be joined. We wanted you to have something special to mark this occasion.” There were tears in the corners of her eyes as she spoke, thinking of her baby girl all grown up.

“Mother, you’re wishing my life away!” complained Taya. “I have no intention of being involved in any joining for a very long time. Well, not as the bride anyway,” she added, throwing a pointed look at Mikkol.

“Taya,” admonished her father. “Your mother was only saying that we’re proud of you.” He turned to Mikkol. “As we are of you, my son. You are a seasoned hunter now and have proven yourself in battle. You are an asset both to our village and to the Equiseen Guard and a credit to your family. I want you to have these.”

He presented Mikkol with a wooden box. Inside was a pair of leather cuffs with steel buckles, fastened to which were badges showing crossed spears, the emblem of the Bridge Guard. His jaw dropped.

“You’ve earned them, son,” said Garron Moor proudly, clasping his son by both shoulders. As commander of the Bridge Guard, he was in charge of assigning positions as they arose. He had always been determined not to show undue favouritism to his son, but he likewise would never deny him a position he had truly earned.

“Thank you father,” beamed Mikkol, fastening them around his arms. “I won’t let you down.”

Once Mikkol and Taya had presented their parents with their own gifts, the family joined the rest of the village at the Gathering Hall. There was a buzz of excitement as the elders stood to make their announcements.

“We wish you joy of the New Turning,” said the oldest man present. The gathered families chorused the same in return.

“And especial joy to Hanna and Jonor Bayne, who will be parents by Mid-Turn’s night.” There was a chorus of happy congratulations to the young couple who had been joined a few months earlier. “Also to Jessen Flax and Lora Moor who have asked to be joined this very day before the feast!”

Another cheer and more excited chatter followed this announcement. A joining made the already important day even more of a celebration.

“Mother, you never said cousin Lora was to be joined today!” exclaimed Taya.

“I didn’t know,” replied her surprised mother. “My sister hasn’t said a word. Well, I expect Lora and Jessen didn’t want a big fuss. Looks like you’ll be at a joining long before you ever expected!”

“Finally,” continued the elder, looking as if he would very much like to sit down, “Mikkol Moor has been appointed to the Bridge Guard, a reward for dedication and proven skill and bravery. And Aysh Mayorr has completed her apprenticeship and will begin crafting her own pieces forthwith. Congratulations to both these young people on their accomplishments. Now, before we prepare for the joining and for the feast, elder Torin will speak of the Ancestors and of the Peoples.” The elder went to sit down at the side of the hall and another white haired old man stepped forward and delivered a sermon, reminding the gathering through stories of the past of the importance of tradition and custom, and of showing tolerance toward the other races of the realm while never betraying their own. When he had finished speaking everyone milled about, talking, laughing and wishing each other joy. Taya looked around for Aysh, eager to congratulate her friend, but she was nowhere to be seen. Suspiciously enough, her brother was also missing. Taya sighed, but determined not to let their secrecy spoil her day she sought out her cousin and offered to help her prepare for the ceremony.

High in the trees, in the Elven halls of Theyos Raal, the New Turning’s day had begun in quite a different way, and for one family in particular. Aeleessa, the Elven Queen, woke at dawn as she did every day and slipped out of bed. She threw a light robe on over her night shift and walked from the royal bed chamber into the dining room next door. The air was fresh but quickly warming and the day promised to become very hot. Already the chorus of the Elven choir could be heard through the rooms and across the walkways. Hauntingly melodious, accompanied by several harps and flutes, the song was one of life, love and hope. The chorus would continue throughout the morning in the Great Court, which was situated at the centre of the largest tree in the forest, where all the great limbs splayed off from the trunk. Like all the other buildings in Theyos Raal, it was built of wood, elaborately woven and carved and steeped in enchantments that held it together, as impervious to age and weathering as the occupants themselves. The other rooms built between the branches of the same tree were all public or administrative; the library, council chamber and several smaller studies and offices. The nearby trees housed the Royal family, the Norns (the most powerful and learned of Elven mages) and the council members and their families. Radiating out from this point were the homes of all the other Elves, as well as school rooms, music rooms, workshops and meditories, all connected by beautiful staircases and walkways. In strategically convenient positions throughout the city, including from the largest tree, a staircase wound around the trunk descending all the way to the forest floor.

Aeleessa was soon joined by her husband, King Tilarion, who crossed the room to where his wife was seated at the large oval table and bent to kiss her forehead.

“My love, I wish you joy of this New Turning,” he said formally yet with genuine affection and joined her to break his fast on the fruit and bread which had been laid out for them.

“Are Lorissa and Illion not awake yet?” he asked, glancing around the room as if his daughter and son-in-law might be hiding behind a chair.

“Leave them be,” admonished Aeleessa gently. “They’ve not yet been married a full Turn and this is their first New Turning as husband and wife. Do you still remember our first New Turning?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“I do,” he replied. “We were up before dawn and in the Great Court for most of the morning, because duty came first.”

“We were up before dawn, yes. Quite a bit before as I recall. And you resented having to leave our bed for the ceremonies. Besides, Lorissa is tired. Your first grandchild doesn’t let her sleep very well.”

“You used to say that was practice, for after they were born,” chuckled Tilarion, cheered by the reminder of his incipient grandfatherhood.

As if in response to this statement, Illion’s worried face appeared in the doorway.

“It’s Lorissa,” was all he said before turning and running from the room.

The King and Queen exchanged an alarmed glance before quickly following him up the half flight of stairs to their bed chamber. Lorissa was sitting up in bed, gazing out of the window, both hands on her large, round belly. She was breathing out slowly, in a very conscious, measured way and a small frown creased her forehead.

“Darling, what is it, are you alright?” cried Tilarion, rushing to his daughter’s side.

“She’s fine,” laughed Aeleessa from the doorway. “Lorissa, do you want me to send for Nula now, or wait until later?”

“Oh, later,” smiled Lorissa dismissively. “It’ll be hours yet; it only just started. Sorry about Illion, I did try to stop him before he ran out of the room. When I said ‘The baby’s coming’ I think he assumed I meant right now!”

“But it is definitely time?” asked Tilarion. “I mean, it will definitely be today?” He turned to Aeleessa. “Shouldn’t we do something?”

“Men!” said Aeleessa in a tone which implied that this one word held a world of frustration.

“Father, go to the ceremonies,” instructed Lorissa. “It’s expected of you and if none of us go, people will start to wonder if something’s wrong. In fact, take Illion with you.”

“Oh, Lorissa, no! Surely I should stay here and....” Illion tailed off, waving his hands ineffectually in a gesture that said very clearly he had no idea what to do in such a situation.

“And what?” asked Lorissa. “Flap like a leaf in the breeze? No. You can come back later, when there might actually be something useful for you to do. I’m going to have a bath.”

“Not before you eat something,” instructed her mother. “There’s fruit and bread in the other room. You need your energy.” She kissed her daughter on the head and smoothed her hair. “You have a long day ahead of you my darling.”

“I know mother, but Nula will take care of me. And you’ll be here, I know. It will be alright.” The princess sounded a lot more certain than she felt. She had been excited about the prospect when Nula spoke encouragingly of the miracle of birth and the heritage of women through the centuries bringing their babies into the world. Now that it was upon her she was becoming nervous.

“Alright, out,” commanded Aeleessa, ushering the two men from the room. “Go to the Great Court and don’t come back until duty is satisfied. I will send for you if you are needed sooner. And if you see someone on the way, have them send lots of hot water for the princess’s bath.”

“Bath? Yes, of course. I will. Are you sure a bath is the best thing? Yes, of course you are. Right.”

Tilarion walked away in the direction of the court, Illion following at his heels like a faithful puppy. The Queen’s request for water was conveyed to the first person they saw and soon there was a flurry of activity in the Royal quarters. A very large wooden tub was lined with sheets and filled with water, which was then magically heated until steam rose from the surface. Aeleessa helped her daughter into the water and sat nearby while she soaked and breathed steadily, just as Nula had taught her, while her labour took a firmer hold on her.

A few miles from the tree shaded city, the early morning sun sparkled on the waters of Lake Merriem. On the far side of the lake, just visible on the horizon were the five towns of the Manguin people; the descendants of men and women not of the Faerie who had become trapped in the realm through the Fall’s Gate over the preceding centuries and who had settled there and intermarried with Myrials and other races. Their farms stretched across the whole length of the fertile ground north of the lake as far as the Near Plains and they also fished the lake and mined the ground to the west for its rich deposits of iron, coal, copper and tin. On the near bank there stood a tree so tall and wide it shaded an area as large as any one of the Manguin towns. It was known as the Ever Tree, for it had been there since the creation of the realm, as far as anyone knew, and would be there until the end of time. Among the branches scampered greenlings; small, moss coloured animals with large appealing eyes and soft fur, which often played with the tree sprites in the forest.

At the edge of the shade provided by the huge tree, on the banks of the lake, stood a small stone cottage. It was doused with the first rays of the morning sun as they seeped between the lower leaves. Nula was woken by the sound of soft paws running across her roof; greenlings scampering around the thatch in an elaborate game of ‘tag’. She yawned and stretched, then threw back the linen top sheet and swung her feet round onto the stone floor. Standing and straightening her night shift, which had become tangled round her legs as she slept, Nula walked into the other room and lit a small fire to make tea. The warmth of the morning had not yet permeated the thick stone walls of the cottage and she pulled a shawl around her shoulders as she waited for the water to boil.

Carrying the steaming mug and some fruit outside, Nula sat down on a large, flat rock on the lake shore and watched the sun play on the water. Since New Turning’s day was a holiday she had not scheduled any visits, and she luxuriated in the notion of a free morning.

As the sun arced higher into the sky Nula stood and turned to go back into the house, but her attention was caught by a movement from the direction of the forest. A dark haired Elf in a green tunic and leggings was striding across the grass towards her.

“So much for my free morning,” thought Nula. Aloud she called out to the Elf, “Joy of the New Turning to you! Is it the princess?”

“Yes. And joy of the New Turning to you also, Mistress Nula,” said the Elf. “Will you please come back with me to the city? The Queen requests your presence.”

“Of course. Just let me dress first. Wait here.”

Nula hurried inside and quickly swapped her shawl and shift for a short-sleeved blue tunic and leggings. She pulled on soft leather ankle boots and picked up the canvas bag she always kept by the door. It contained everything she might need in the course of her duties. Heading back outside she joined the Elf and they set off for Theyos Raal, Nula struggling to keep up with the Elf’s long stride on her shorter Pixie legs. As they walked Nula asked the Elf what the Queen had told him.

“When did the princess begin her labour?” she asked.

The Elf looked rather uncomfortable as he replied, “At dawn. The Queen said to tell you... rushes every twenty minutes... waters unpurged... coping well.”

Nula glanced up at him and noticed he seemed to be blushing, so she sensitively refrained from asking any more questions.

“Thank you,” she said simply and he smiled in reply. It took about half an hour to cover the distance to the forest’s edge, passing close by one of the Equiseen villages where Nula was greeted by everyone she saw with wishes of ‘Joy of the New Turning’. When they saw the concerned face of the Elf she was with, though, they did not try to detain her, correctly assuming that she was on her way to a birth.

They walked under the first branches of the forest following the well-worn path between the trees to the main staircase up into the Elven city. Along the way they encountered several other Pixies, all of whom wanted to hug Nula and offer the traditional greeting. She moved past each one as quickly as civility would allow her, although she did ask one of her cousins for a favour.

“Saera, would you please cross the bridge and tell Em I can’t be there today?” she asked. “Tell him I’m really sorry, but I have to work. And can you send someone to fetch Noor? I’d given her the day off, but apprentices have to work when work calls, same as me! She wouldn’t want to miss this one, anyway.”

“Of course I will,” laughed Nula’s cousin. “I don’t understand you, Nula! Can one Manguin really be so interesting you’d want no one else for so many Turns?”

“Forever!” laughed Nula in return. “I suppose I’m like my mother.”

Nula’s cousin skipped off through the trees in the direction of the Bridge of Aught Else. Passage across the bridge was unrestricted for both Faerie creatures and residents of the carnival. It was only the Manguin of the towns and cities across the lake who would be prevented from crossing, due to the council’s strict laws. These had been instituted to prevent them trying to return to a world which would now be unrecognisable to them, but which some still considered their ancestral home. Historically many battles had been fought between the forest folk and the Manguin residents of the Meeran cities across the plains, who wanted to reclaim control of the Fall’s Gate.

As Nula climbed the stairs into the tree canopy, she acknowledged a moment of regret that she would be unable to spend the day with Emerden as they had planned. Her calling was not to a job with regular hours: babies arrived whenever they would and took as long as they wished to do so. Putting her disappointment to one side, Nula turned her thoughts to the day that now lay before her. Elves did not usually have difficult labours, even the first time around. There were unusual factors in Lorissa’s case however, facts only she and Lorissa knew because the princess had expressly forbidden her from telling even Illion. Several weeks previously, when Nula had visited to check on her progress, she had been startled to feel more than the expected number of limbs and heads when trying to determine what way round the baby was lying. She had used a fluted wooden cone to listen to the heartbeat and had indeed found two separate and distinct rhythms, one on each side of Lorissa’s belly. This cone was called a Pinard according to her mother; her own had been whittled for her by Emerden as a gift, but just such an instrument had been owned by every village midwife for several generations. Apparently the first one to arrive in the realm had been brought through by an ancestor of Emerden’s, who had come across it on his travels through the Fall’s Gate and wanted to give it to a then village midwife who had delivered his son. The midwife was the only Manguin who had freedom to cross the Bridge at will, at least whenever there was an expectant mother or a new baby among the Carnival folk. Nula, being a Pixie, was already excepted by her ancestry.

Once she reached the level of the city, Nula traversed the walkways and passed through public rooms until she reached the Royal apartments. She considered again the implications of the second baby. Twins were almost unheard of amongst the Elves, and indeed all the Faerie creatures. Nula had delivered two sets previously to Manguin mothers, both times with her own mother, to whom she had been apprenticed, in attendance. This would be her first twin delivery in sole charge and what was more, she would have to teach Noor, although Noor was already a very capable midwife after four years under Nula’s tutelage. Reviewing what she had been taught and her own previous experience, she felt confident this situation was well within her capabilities. Finally Nula and her companion reached the door to the Royal apartments.

“Would you please go back and make sure Noor knows where to come?” she asked the Elf before she headed inside. He turned and left her to enter on her own.

Mikkol caught up with Aysh half way to the lone rock, since Aysh was only wandering distractedly along the worn dirt path.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her. “Why did you leave? Are you still sore about your completion? You must have known they’d announce it.”

“It’s not that,” said Aysh, not meeting his eyes.

“Then what?” asked Mikkol, catching her arm. “Aysh, please tell me.”

The sun beat down on them as he waited for Aysh to open up to him. For several moments birdsong was the only noise they could hear. Eventually she turned reluctantly towards him, showing tear stained cheeks.

“I’m awful,” she cried. “I’m a horrible person and a bad friend.”

Mikkol laughed, surprised. “No you’re not! You’re a lovely person. You’re one of my closest friends.” He put out a hand to brush away her tears, but she flinched away.

“Would a friend hear good news and feel only jealousy? Would she run, instead of offering a hand in congratulations? Would she weep for her own constraints, instead of celebrating his achievements?” She turned away from him again, but he could see her shoulders shaking.

“Oh Aysh,” he said gently. “Yes. If she felt so imprisoned by her own life and her friend had all the freedoms she wished for. If she was surprised by the announcement and had no time to prepare a smile. If she was brave and strong and fast and good with a sword, but no one would ever be proud of those things. No one but me.” He stepped towards her back and placed his hands on her shoulders. She spun around, leaving only a few inches between them as she looked wide eyed into his face.

“No one but you,” she echoed. “Do you mean that? You think that about me, truly?”

“That and a great deal more,” he breathed, touching his fingers to hers. “The question is, what do you really think of me?”

Aysh blushed in answer, lowering her eyes modestly. She was hardly able to believe her ears and she smiled more deeply than she had in a long time.

“May I kiss you?” asked Mikkol, his inexperience betraying him. She nodded and looked up at him again, still smiling. He cupped his hands around her face and brushed his lips against hers ever so gently. He pulled away briefly to look into her face, just in case she would change her mind, but her eyes were closed, brows raised questioningly, lips slightly apart. He dipped his head and kissed her again, searchingly, hungrily, holding her close. Her scent filled his nose, sweet and musky, making his heart beat faster and his head feel light. Her fingers were entwined in his hair; she didn’t want the kiss to end. She felt like she was floating, the rush of adrenaline extinguishing all thoughts. When they finally broke apart, Aysh felt as if her world had changed forever.

“We’d better go back,” she said. “We’ll be missed.”

He took her hand in his own as they headed for the village.

“There’s no going back now,” he smiled.

A pair of greenlings scampered along a branch high in the tree canopy above Theyos Raal, engaged in an energetic game for which only they knew the rules. Leaping over one another; now pouncing, now dancing out of reach, they chirped excitedly in sheer glee. Suddenly, in the middle of a particularly daring leap from branch to branch, one of the creatures found himself in the middle of a tiny golden cloud. As he breathed in it seared his throat and lungs, closing up his throat and choking him. He missed his landing and fell, his claws flailing as he desperately tried to grab onto any branch as he passed. His playmate screeched in terror as he plummeted towards the forest floor far below. His little body crashed against several branches on the way down, finally landing on the dirt with a muffled thud. The other greenling cautiously climbed down to him, her little heart pounding with fright. Finally, she approached him, stretching out one paw to prod his leg. He didn’t respond and she laid her head on his chest, listening for the comforting sound of his heartbeat. Nothing. Giving a shuddering little whimper of resignation she curled up beside him, her eyes wet with tears.

Emerden woke in the dim light of his vardo and reached his arm across for Nula then, feeling only the empty sheet, remembered that she wasn’t there.

“Well, joy of the New Turning,” he said to no one in particular. He pulled open the faded yellow curtains and lit a fire in the small wood-burning stove, to make tea and porridge. Pulling on a linen shirt and britches, he flung open the door to let in more light and fresh air. Striding toward him across the clearing was Jonor Flax, sporting a broad smile and a jaunty hat.

“Joy, my friend,” he called out as her approached. “I’m not interrupting am I?”

“And to you, brother. Not today,” replied Emerden, clasping his friend by the hand. “Nula stayed at home last night.”

“On New Turn’s eve? You haven’t fought, have you?”

“No, no,” laughed Emerden, dismissing his friend’s concern. “She was helping her mother yesterday so she wanted to eat with her parents last night and visit old friends. It was easier to stay at the cottage, that’s all. She’ll be over later. She wanted to spend the day with us.”

“With you, you mean,” corrected Jonor, nudging his friend’s arm. That’s a busy lady you have there, Em.” He sat down on the steps as Emerden made them each a mug of tea. “I’m not surprised you haven’t found time for a little one of your own yet.”

Emerden’s eyebrows shot up. “Jo, we haven’t even talked about it. Half the time we’re away in the mortal realm, bringing groups through the Gate and she has such an unpredictable schedule. We couldn’t even contemplate it until both Noor and her mother’s apprentice are trained, so she could take time off and leave the work to them. And to be honest, I haven’t even asked her if she wants a child. Not all Pixies do, you know.”

“Don’t you think maybe that’s something you need to talk about? I mean you’ve been with Nula five Turns already, you’re nearing forty and one day you’re going to need an apprentice to teach all the stories to. Before you get too old and forget them all!” added Jonor slyly.

“Jo! I am not with Nula so she’ll give me an apprentice-heir!” exclaimed Emerden. And I’m not getting old.” He stared into his cup and was quiet for a moment before admitting, “I’m with her because I couldn’t be without her. I love her, Jo. I’ve never truly loved anyone before, but it’s like she’s become a part of my soul; like my heart is empty when she’s not around, but just the sight or sound of her fills me up till I could burst.”

“My, my, you’re quite the poet today,” remarked Jonor. “And it’s taken you five Turns to realise this?”

Emerden shook his head and laughed ruefully. “It took me far longer than it should have. At first, in that first few weeks when she was coming here to see Demet and Louenne when Ronesh was born, I almost thought she had beguiled me! – well, except without the usual physical result of a beguiling!”

The practice Emerden spoke of was a kind of telepathic enchantment Pixies wove over men, dissolving their inhibitions and enflaming sexual desire, usually resulting in brief and lusty encounters without any emotional ties. Pixies, being an exclusively female species and usually lacking any compulsion to form permanent attachments outside their own kind, were content with the gratification this afforded. On the rare occasion one of them decided to become pregnant, and Pixies had a supernatural control over their fertility, the practice also allowed them to choose the father without any further involvement or obligation on his part. The Pixie concept of morals forbade them using their power on a man they knew to be romantically involved, or on the Equiseen with their strict rules governing intimate relationships, which did not allow sex outside of a joining, but these were the only restrictions. The men they approached were most usually youths and sometimes older men from the villages who ventured into the forest and who barely needed any encouragement at all, and sometimes those who worked at or attended the Carnival. Jonor was not against an occasional dalliance, there not being any woman of his own species who would be willing to acknowledge his existence, much less consider joining with him. Jonor had been shorn at fifteen when he told his father he was joining the Carnival, so he considered himself free from all Equiseen rule and custom. He grinned at Emerden.

“Believe me my friend, if you’d been beguiled she wouldn’t have stopped at smiling and saying ‘hello’. And you wouldn’t still have felt as infatuated in the morning. It sort of fades away as you sleep.”

“Yes, there are a few broad minded Pixies out there,” Emerden acknowledged the provenance of his friend’s insight.

“Hey! None of the men they sleep with are their own species, naturally, so why not mine as much as yours? They know I’m not like most of my kind. Actually, the first time a Pixie approached me she was a little nervous, my species being out of bounds after all, but she knew I had left them. I was sixteen, I hadn’t been here long and I was homesick. She asked if I would mind her cheering me up. I said she could try, not really understanding what she meant. I tell you, I was a happy young man when I went to sleep that night! I thought I was in love, but when I woke up, it was just a pleasant memory.”

“Well, you’re right. Nula wasn’t like that. It took weeks just to get her to have dinner with me at Demet’s cookhouse and weeks more before I was brave enough to kiss her. I was so afraid of spoiling it – like with one wrong move she would run away. She was such an unknown quantity; a Pixie, but living away from the forest, Manguin by upbringing with married parents and all these fixed ideas about family and love and people being meant for each other. I had no idea what she meant for so long, but then one day I suddenly did. We were through the Falls Gate and I saw this really pretty girl in a town there and I just thought ‘there was a time I’d have wanted to talk to her, and more than talk, but she’s just not a patch on my Nu.’ And that was it; she was mine and I was hers and I couldn’t wait to tell her. That was nearly a full Turn after we met. I tell you, Jo, I will end my days with that girl, if she’ll have me.”

Emerden stopped short of telling Jonor what else had happened that night when he had confessed his realisation to her. He was not usually circumspect with his friend; indeed he had related many exploits of a personal nature in the years of their friendship, as had Jonor. They were as close as brothers and very open with one another. Nula was different though and that memory in particular was very precious.

Nula was, as Emerden had suggested, something of an anomaly. Her mother had fallen in love with a Manguin farmer and married him, forsaking her free life in the forest for a busy farmhouse and, eventually, five daughters in addition to her work as a midwife. Nula had been raised to know both branches of her ancestry, unlike most Pixies, and to choose which suited her better. While her sisters all returned to the forest at fourteen, apprenticed to various aunts to learn their arts, Nula decided to become her mother’s pupil and remain in the village.

She had attended the village school as a child, as had her sisters, and had been a gifted student, enjoying the knowledge she could gain between the pages of a book. She had also accompanied her father to the church once a week for services, absorbing the lessons which the pastor taught from a very old and worn bible. Pastor Thomas was a kind and dedicated soul, patient and gentle with his flock. He was the widowed father of twin boys who were the same age as Nula and had been her friends. So Nula had acquired a faith in the God of her father as well as an understanding of the mystical origin of the power by which Elves wove their magics and through which Pixies were able to cast beguilings and use the magically obtained Elven materials such as moonsilk or starglass to create their beautiful wares.

She had confided to Emerden once their relationship started to become serious that she had never been with a man. She had spent five years studying her mother’s profession, which had absorbed all her time and energy. Then she had found that her own work left little opportunity for romance. Most of the men she encountered were nervous fathers-to-be, and the village youths were either immature wastrels who thought Pixies were easy, or only interested in village girls who would become docile housewives, not busy career women. She was a very attractive young woman and had had to set both varieties straight a number of times before the word got round that approaching her wasn’t worth the bother. She hadn’t been lonely, exactly, she told him. She had many friends from the Carnival to the furthest Manguin village of Ebor. But she had never been in love and for her nothing else would do. In Nula’s mind the physical act of love and the emotional intimacy of it were so intertwined that to experiment with the former without the permanence of the latter was unthinkable. That night when he told her he was in love with her and couldn’t imagine his future without her, she had replied that she had felt the same way for some time. She had kissed him sweetly and led into him into his vardo. And then he in turn had led her, ever so slowly and tenderly, on a journey in which they had each learned as much about themselves as they had about each other. Hours later she had lain in his arms, legs entwined with his, and laughed with pure joy. It had taken him completely and delightedly by surprise, as did her enthusiasm for further journeys of discovery. Apparently she was equally dedicated in all her endeavours, whether professional of personal.

Jonor slapped Emerden affectionately on the shoulder and stood up, handing back his cup.

“I’m happy for you, my friend,” he said. “I should go. I promised to help Soorah and Eliish with a fire display for the party tonight. I’ll see you later, alright?”

He turned to walk down the steps of the vardo and spotted a Pixie skipping towards them. Emerden recognised her as one of Nula’s cousins.

“Saera, she’s not here yet,” he called out.

“I know, I saw her in the forest. Sorry Em,” she added as his face fell, guessing what would come next. “She was heading up to Theyos Raal with an Elf. I’m guessing there will be a Royal Announcement by tomorrow.”

“I see. Thank you for telling me.” Emerden couldn’t hide his disappointment.

“She said to tell you she was really sorry.”

“It’s okay. Thanks, Saera.”

The blonde Pixie shrugged her sympathy before heading back towards the Bridge. Emerden sighed and closed his door, falling into step beside Jonor to try and make the best of the day.

Nula found Lorissa pacing the floor, her mother on one side of her and an Elven maiden on the other. She was taking in slow, measured breaths, letting them out in a steady hiss, and wincing at the height of each of the rushes that hardened her belly and made her feel as if her insides were opening up; stretching wide as her muscles worked. She managed a smile of relief when she saw Nula, who put down her bag and looked around the room. Lorissa and Illion’s chamber was generously proportioned with a large carved bed and several comfortable chairs arranged around the walls. Chests for storage and tables set with beautiful hand-blown glass ornaments and painted pottery stood between the other furniture. The large windows let in plenty of light and a soft breeze fluttered the pale gauze curtains.

“Okay, how are you getting on, Lorissa?” asked Nula, gently. The princess went over to a large, well cushioned chair and sank into it, grateful for a few minutes rest.

“Every fifteen minutes now, and it’s really quite bearable. But mother says it will get worse. Will it?”

“Helpful as ever, your Grace,” remarked Nula, sighing. “We talked about this, Lorissa. Try not to focus on what might happen later, but on what your body is telling you now. The rushes are quite strong, but bearable and that is good. Rest and catch your breath till the next one, while I see what the baby is up to.”

“Don’t you mean babies?” asked Aeleessa, smiling.

“Mother, how did you know?” gasped the startled princess.

“Well, you are rather large dear and you’re not due for another three weeks. Also you let slip a couple of ’they’s in the last few days when you mentioned the baby. Don’t worry; I don’t think Illion or your father even noticed.”

Nula was placing her hands on Lorissa’s belly, feeling expertly for the placement of limbs and the babies’ heads and bottoms.

“As far as I can tell, one baby is head down and will be born first; the other is head up and will hopefully turn as his or her sibling is born. Now I’ll check the babies’ heart rates and your pulse, then we’ll see how long the next surge lasts.”

Nula pulled her Pinard from her bag and placed the larger end on one side of Lorissa’s belly. Setting a small sand timer on the table next to Lorissa’s chair she put her ear to the Pinard’s smaller end. Once she could hear the heart, she let go with her hand and turned over the timer, counting the beats. When the sand ran out she repeated the process on the other side of the princess’s belly. Finally she held Lorissa’s wrist and counted her pulse.

“All good,” she declared. “Your pulse is seventy beats, quite normal for an Elf. The babies are at 116 and 123, which is normal for babies.”

Aeleessa breathed out a sigh of relief, quite unaware she had been holding her breath. “What now?” she asked.

“Now we wait,” replied Nula.

They did not have to wait long. A much larger sand timer stood on a side table near a window, which Queen Aeleessa had turned over after the last contraction had finished. There were marks etched in the glass to indicate individual minutes. There was only a little sand left in the top half when Lorissa started her slow breathing again, gripping the arms of the chair. Aeleessa turned the timer over as soon as it ran out and they waited. Noor slipped in through the door and exchanged an excited grin with Nula.

“That’s only twelve minutes now,” remarked Lorissa’s friend, who had been watching the timer. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

“It is,” confirmed Nula. “But there’s a long way to go yet. Good Turning, Noor.”

“Good Turning Nula, your Grace, your highness, Lady Ember.” Noor dipped her head in deference to the Elven royals in turn and hugged Nula. She was the same height as her mentor and looked about the same age, although in truth she was around a century older. Noor had decided after many years as a painter that she would rather help people and that Nula’s work sounded fascinating. She loved her new career and felt very content with her life.

“Good Turning, Noor,” replied Lorissa when she was able. “Nula can we do anything to speed this up? I don’t want to be here all day.”

“Unfortunately, you probably will be; it’s your first labour. But we’ll see what we can do. When did you last eat?”

The tightening had lasted less than a minute and Lorissa began to look brighter immediately it wore off.

“Mother made me eat some fruit and bread just after dawn, so more than three hours ago, but then I was sick during one of the rushes. Then I was in the bath, so I didn’t want to eat. They’ve been closer together since I got out the water, though I did feel more comfortable in there.”

Nula was mulling over all she had said. She pulled a small glass bottle out of her bag and poured a little of the green liquid into a glass.

“This should stop you from being sick again. As for your rushes, you’re doing really well and I’m glad the bath helped, but I would like you to try eating something to build your energy up – your body needs fuel to work with. Then try walking round the room again to help the first baby move down.”

Lorissa pulled a face as she set the empty glass on the table.

“Do you make it taste awful on purpose, like a test? I mean, if I don’t throw this up I should be able to stomach real food?”

“Now, now, Lorissa, you know tonics never taste good. That’s how you know they work,” admonished the Queen.

“You’re mother’s right, in a way,” said Nula. “I didn’t believe my mother when she said they had to taste bad and developed several recipes that were quite delicious. No one trusted them – they were sure I hadn’t learned the recipe properly and asked my mother for her tonics instead! I was astonished.”

Lorissa laughed and started to heave herself out of the chair. Nula and Noor spent the next several hours encouraging Lorissa to walk around the apartments, to eat snacks and to breathe gently when her belly tightened, which became gradually more frequent as the sun approached its zenith and by mid-afternoon was happening every couple of minutes and sapping Lorissa’s energy.

“How about another bath?” Nula suggested. “It will ease your discomfort and help you relax.” She beckoned Lorissa’s friend. “Lady Ember, would you go to the Norns and ask for a nectar to give Lorissa energy? And they will want to come soon and begin the ceremony, before the second part of labour begins. Also we’ll need more hot water.”

Ember nodded and left quickly, the curling red hair which had inspired her name flying behind her.

Soon the Royal apartments were the scene of bustling activity again as the bath was topped up and reheated. A bottle of sweet, energizing, pink liquid arrived from the Norns, who sent word that they had begun their preparations and would be in attendance shortly. They had spent the day in the great court at the New Turning ceremonies with Tilarion and Illion, who both now entered the room, a picture of concern. While Aeleessa tried to reassure the men that everything was going well and they had no cause for concern, Nula, Noor and Lorissa took refuge from the noise out on the balcony. The day was not yet cooling noticeably and Lorissa sipped her reviving potion and chatted with her midwives. After a few minutes though, the glass fell from her hand as a contraction stronger than any she had yet experienced surged through her body, causing her knees to buckle. She gripped the balcony railing and tried to breathe as she had been taught, while Nula rubbed her back and Noor fetched a damp cloth to mop her brow.

“Okay, I don’t think I can talk about a comfort level any more Nula; I don’t have one!” moaned Lorissa. “I need to get in that bath.”

Nula smiled at the princess’s unintended humour and helped her back indoors to the waiting tub.

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