Wild Magic

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Reyna stood twisting his silk face-scarf between his hands, staring at the empty chair. “Sibyl,” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. The cave caught the sibilant and hissed it back at him. “Sibyl,” he said, more loudly this time, “Answer me.”

Black smoke stirred in the chair, solidified into the bright eyed old woman. “Ask?”

“I found a child.” He slid his tongue over dry lips. “Tell me who she is.”

“I cannot.”

“Why?”

“Nor that.”

“Is there anything youcan tell me?”

“Cherish her.”

“I will.”

“What comes will come. It is enough.”

The days passed, slow and sweet, Nenna the month changed to Sabba, Sabba to Tikenda, Tikenda to Tamma, Tamma to Jamma as Spring ripened into Summer. Nothing was the same at the Beehouse.

At times Faan was quiet, sad, but her memories of her mother and Jal Virri faded. Even the home dreams came less and less often and finally not at all. She stopped clinging to Reyna, but she was quiet when he was out and crept up to him afterward, touching him over and over again as if she wanted to be sure he was really there. She followed him around whenever he’d let her, went with him when he visited sick women and children, playing quietly in one corner of the room while he talked to them, massaged them, did whatever he could to make them easier.

As soon as Faan picked enough Fadogur to answer questions, Tai talked to her about her mother, trying to get some idea where the child had lived for her first three years. Reyna didn’t want to hear any of it; the longer Faan was with him, the harder it was to face giving her up. He didn’t know if he could do it. Sometimes he wondered about the strength of his feeling, but he didn’t want to question it. No one had ever given him such joy, such intense, uncomplicated love.

After the session was over, he put Faan down for her nap, crooned old songs to her until she was asleep, then he left and with dragging steps went down to Tai.

“So?”

Tai shook her head. “Not much. She lived on an island with her mother, a man called Maksi who I don’t think was her father, she says he’s same color as Panote. There was another man, a pale man with red hair, Sims. Her mother was just mother. She said the panumi took care of her, I couldn’t get a clear idea what they were, invisible spirits of some kind. No other children about so they might be playmates she invented. Nothing to tell us where to find the place.” She set her hand on Reyna’s arm. “Vema, my friend, we’ve done all we can.”

He set his forehead against the window, closed his eyes, and shuddered as tears slid down his face. Thi smoothed her hands over his back, kneaded his shoulders, the warmth of her strong thin hands sinking into him, comforting him, helping him regain control.