“The fact remains,” Barsarbe said, tilting her chin to look Axis in the eye, “that we will wait for her. Tree Friend will lead us home, not the StarMan. If she says we will unite with the Icarii and the Acharites, then we will do it. But only then.”
Anger made a muscle in Axis’ cheek fucker. The Avar had decided this well before he’d stepped inside the circle of stone.
“Axis,” Raum stepped up and addressed him directly. “You must understand the Avar. We are a reclusive people. We understand the Prophecy and we understand the threat of Gorgrael. We understand who you are and what your role is. But we are a people deeply scarred by the violence meted out to us during the Wars of the Axe. We are a people decimated by loss. We are not numerous, and we are not warlike. How could we fight for you? We have no Strike Force like our friends the Icarii. We have no weapons. So we wait for Tree Friend, and when she comes, then we will follow her. Faraday is a woman of gendeness and she is a woman bonded to the Mother. You are a warrior and you follow the way of the Stars. We mean you no disrespect nor do we mean to anger you, but we prefer to wait for Faraday.”
“I understand, my friend,” Axis said, placing a hand on Raum’s shoulder. He turned to the assembled Avar. “I apologise if my words have caused you hurt. Sometimes I am too impatient. I understand your reluctance to act and I will accept your decision to wait for Tree Friend — Faraday. It will make my desire to reach her even deeper.”
The entire assemblage of Avar visibly relaxed. None had been too sure how he would react to their decision. They knew that the Prophecy walked among them, but they would wait for the one who had been promised them. Faraday.
“Then we welcome you to Beltide, Axis SunSoar, Star-Man,” Barsarbe smiled. “Beltide is the most joyous time of the year for us, a night when we put to one side all that troubles us, when we celebrate love and life and birth and renewal. Share with us that joy.”
Whereas theYuletide rites were closely tied to the sun and the sun god Narcis, and the Icarii male Enchanters and Avar Banes dominated, Beltide celebrated the rebirth of the earth after the death of winter, and, in rites that celebrated renewal, the females had long dominated. Tonight Barsarbe, assisted by MorningStar, would lead the rites. StarDrifter, as all other male Enchanters and Banes, was relegated to the audience.
None of them minded a bit. This was a night when the audience had as much fun as those leading the rites.
Azhure gathered with the Avar and Icarii as dusk fell. She had spent the afternoon with Fleat and Shra of the Ghost-Tree Clan. Shra had squealed with delight when she saw Azhure, throwing herself into the woman’s arms, and Fleat had smiled with genuine pleasure, inviting Azhure and Rivkah to sit at the GhostTree fire for the afternoon. They had caught up on news and renewed their friendship. Azhure was relieved to find that neither Fleat nor her husband Grindle laid any blame at Azhure’s feet for Pease’s death.
“Pease would not have wanted you to grieve overlong,” Fleat had said. “And tonight is Beltide, when wounds will be healed and new bonds will be forged. Tonight will be a joyous affair. We should not spoil Beltide with sorrowing for the dead. Pease would not want it.”
Now Rivkah and Azhure threaded their way through the growing crowds of Icarii and Avar in the Earth Tree Grove.
“Where are we going?” Azhure asked.
“We will sit with the SunSoars, Azhure. At least, we will start the night with them. Who knows with whom we will finish the night,” Rivkah replied, concentrating on finding her way through the throng of people.
Azhure was more than a little nervous about the Beltide celebrations. Over the past months there had been so many hints dropped about the excesses of a night when the normal ties and promises of unions were forgotten, a night when adventures could be explored without risk. When Avar and Icarii indulged curiosities and appetites otherwise forbidden.
And what would be offered her tonight? Azhure remembered the feel of StarDrifter’s arms about her in the training chamber, the taste of his mouth. She wondered if she would be able to deny StarDrifter a second time, now that he and Rivkah had parted. Would she let him sate her curiosity tonight?
The SunSoars sat at the foot of the black cliff face that bordered the western edge of the grove. To one side of them the Avarinheim forest stood dark and wrapped in shadows. RavenCrest sat a little to one side, reserved and aloof, his wife several paces away, a dreamy expression on her face. Were they both planning their Beltide games? Azhure wondered. Did even the Talon and his wife indulge their desires as they pleased?
“Where’s EvenSong?” she asked Axis as she sank down beside him, smoothing out her crimson robe. Her hair tumbled loose about her shoulders and down her back.
“She offered to serve with the patrols tonight,” Axis explained. “She said that without FreeFall she had no interest in Beltide.”
“Are we safe?” Azhure asked.
“We are safe,” Axis said, his eyes on the circle of stone. “The Strike Force has a strong presence in the sky and in the surrounding forest. There is not a Skraeling within fifty leagues.”
Several paces away StarDrifter sat in the shadow of a slight cleft in the cliff face. Tonight he was determined to have Azhure. Over the past months his desire for her had grown to the point where it dominated his every waking thought and drove him to dream of her constandy. He had never wanted another woman – Icarii, Acharite or Avar – like this. On the night before they had flown out to the Avarinheim he had dreamt that they were both tumbling entwined through the sky, their wings tangled and useless as they fell towards the ground, their thoughts only on assuaging their savage needs. In that dream Azhure had the wings and the features of an Icarii.
Tonight he would take her. Possess her, finally. He had told Axis that Azhure would bear powerful Enchanters, and tonight he meant to get one on her. But the night was long, and it was not yet time.
Avar Banes stepped through the crowds, quiet now as the rites neared. They carried deep bowls of dark liquid which glinted ruby red whenever a stray moonbeam caught them.
The young Bane who served their section stepped in front of RavenCrest first, murmured to him, then offered him the bowl. RavenCrest drank, then the Bane turned to Bright-Feather, then to Rivkah. He stepped carefully through the rocks and offered StarDrifter the blessed wine, then he turned to Axis.
“Drink well and deep, Axis SunSoar, and may the sacred wine of Beltide remind you of the joy and the steps of the Star Dance as you celebrate the renewal of life tonight.”
Axis took the bowl in both hands and drank the wine deeply. He raised his head only with reluctance and Azhure, watching him, noticed that the wine clung in heavy, red drops to his beard. Two of the drops ran together, trickling down through the short golden hairs. She stared at them, fascinated. The wine was so thick and heavy it reminded her of blood.
The Bane paused briefly before Azhure, then bowed his head in regret. “You have not been accepted among us, Azhure. I am afraid that I cannot offer you the -”
He stopped, shocked, as Axis stood and took the bowl from his hands. “I take the responsibility,” Axis said. “The wine is almost gone and you are needed before the circle of stone. I will take responsibility for what remains of the sacred wine.”
After a moment the Bane bowed stiffly. “The bowl and its contents are your responsibility, Axis SunSoar,” he said, then turned and marched away, every step stiff with displeasure.
Axis turned to Azhure.
“Stand, Azhure,” he said, and Azhure slowly stood, her eyes on his face.
“Drink well and deep, Azhure,” Axis said softly. “And may the sacred wine of Beltide remind you of the joy and the steps of the Star Dance as you celebrate the renewal of life tonight. Celebrate.”
Azhure hesitated, aware that every eye within twenty paces’ radius was on her.
“Drink,” Axis repeated, his voice insistent.
Azhure reached for the bowl. As her hands wrapped themselves about the bowl, Axis, instead of dropping his own hands, slid them around the bowl to cover hers.
“Drink,” he whispered.
The moment the warm, viscous liquid filled her mouth Azhure understood why all those she’d watched had been reluctant to relinquish the bowl. The wine felt alive and seemed to speak to her, sing to her as it filled her mouth. It tasted of earth and salt, birth and death, wisdom and sadness beyond knowing. As the warm, coppery liquid slid down her throat and warmed her belly, Azhure thought she could hear music. Wild music, as if the stars themselves were reeling naked and crazed with lust through the night sky.