“… oh, no, kinsman, I give you my word of that….”
Suddenly jealous of this closeness, Romilly wished she could hear what they were saying. So near, now, was her laran to the surface, that it occurred to her; Perhaps I need only reach out and know.
And then she was shocked at herself. What was she thinking, she who had been reared in a Great House and taught proper courtesy toward both equals and inferiors? Why, that would be no worse than eavesdropping at doors, snooping like a nasty child, that would be completely unworthy of her.
Having the power of laran, certainly, did not mean that she had a right to know what did not concern her! And then, frowning as she fell into line – she had taken the sentrybird Prudence on her own saddle, so that Dom Carlo could carry Caryl behind him – she found herself pondering the proper manners associated with laran. She had the power, and perhaps the right, to force her will on the hawks she trained, on the horses she rode, even, to save her life, on the wild banshee of the crags. But how far did this power go? How far was it right to use it? She could urge her horse to bear saddle and bridle, because he loved her and willingly learned what would bring him closer to his master. She had felt Preciosa’s deep love, so that the hawk returned of her free will when Romilly had set her free. (And that was pain. Would she ever see Preciosa again?) But there were limits to this power. It was right, perhaps, to quiet the dogs who loved her, so they would not awaken the household to her going.
But there was trouble, too, and a deep conflict. She could urge the prey into the beak of the hawk she hunted, she could perhaps force the young and stupid ice-rabbit into the waiting mouth of the dogs . . . surely that was not intended, that was not part of nature, that was a distinctly unfair advantage to have in hunting!
Her eyes stinging, she bent her head, and for the first time in her life found herself sincerely praying.
Bearer of Burdens! I did not ask this power. Please, please, help me use it, not for wrong purposes, but only to try and be one with life. . . . Confusedly, she added, As I was, for a little while, this morning, when I knew that I was one with all that lived. As you must be, Holy one. Help me decide how to use this power wisely. And after a moment she added, in a whisper, For now I know I am a part of life … but such a small part!
CHAPTER FIVE
All the long road to Caer Donn, it continued to trouble her. When she hunted meat for the sentry-birds, she thought of her laran and feared to use the power for evil, so that sometimes she let game escape them and was roundly scolded by the men. She did use her awareness to seek out dead things in hill and forest which she could use to feed the birds – they had no further use for their bodies, surely it could not be wrong to use a dead creature to feed a living one. She felt as if she wanted to close up her new skill where it would never be touched again, though she had to use it in handling the birds – surely it could not be wrong to show her fondness for them? Or was it, since she used it to keep them quiet for her own convenience?
There were times when she tried to handle them without calling on the MacAran Gift which she now knew to be laran, and when they screamed and rebelled, Dom Carlo demanded, “What’s gotten into you, youngster? Do the work you’re paid to do, and keep those birds quiet!” She had to use her laran then, and again suffer the conflicts as to whether she did right or wrong.
She wished she could talk to Dom Carlo; he had laran and had perhaps suffered some of these same worries when he was her age and learning to use it. Was this what Ruyven had had to overcome? No wonder he fled from a horse-training ranch and took refuge behind Tower walls! She found herself envying Darren, who had none of the MacAran Gift and though he feared and hated hawks and horses, at least he was not tempted to meddle with their minds in order to show his power over them! She could not talk to Caryl, he was only a child, and used his power with pleasure, as she had always used it since she found out she had special skill with horses and used it in training them. And whenever she tried to eat fresh-killed game, it seemed that she could feel the life and the blood of the dead animal pounding through her mind, and she would gag and refuse to eat; she made her meals of porridge and fruit and bread, and was fiercely hungry in the bitter, aching cold of the mountain trails, but even when Dom Carlo commanded her to eat, she could not, and once when he stood over her until she reluctantly swallowed part of a haunch of the wild chervine they had killed for their meal, she felt such terrible revulsion that she went away and vomited it up again.