A Journey of the Heart (2 page)

"Look," she said, showing me the fletching of one of the arrows. "Like the feathers of a bird's wing, these feathers control the arrow's flight. They are as delicate as a bird's wing, and you must be careful of them."

She showed me how to hold several arrows loosely in my hand so that the fletching of each arrow didn't rub against the others. Then she showed me that by putting a finger between each shaft I could hold them more tightly and still keep the arrows separated from one another. She sighted down the shaft of each arrow. None of them was perfectly straight, and she explained that each would fly a bit differently. At last she stood up.

"I don't want you to try aiming at anything yet," she said. "Just shoot the arrow and watch its flight."

She handed me the light bow and watched me string it. Then she handed me an arrow and showed me how to lay the bow flat to nock it, how to align it in the bow, how to set the tips of my fingers against the bowstring. When I turned the bow upright, the arrow fell away from the bow and dropped at my feet.

After several tries I could keep the arrow more or less in place while I drew the bow. Maara had me hold the bow drawn while she examined my stance. I resisted the urge to find something to shoot at.

"Straighten your fingers," she said.

I did, and the arrow tumbled out of the bow and hit the ground a few feet in front of me.

"Good," she said. "Try again."

I couldn't believe how difficult it was. There were so many things to remember all at once. Draw the string with the fleshy part of the fingertips, not at the joint. Hold the bow upright. Don't let it tip to the left, or the arrow will fall away from the bow. Don't let it tip to the right either, or the arrow won't fly true. Let the hand that grips the bow support the tip of the arrow without restricting its flight. Keep the elbows down, head up, back straight, feet well apart.

By the time Maara took me home, my shoulders ached. My fingertips burned from the bowstring brushing over them. The inside of the arm that held the bow was red and sore where the bowstring sometimes struck it. Worst of all I had succeeded only in sending arrow after arrow in every direction but where I wanted them to go.

Maara saw that I was discouraged.

"You're doing well," she said.

I didn't believe her.

One day, when Namet invited Maara to spend the afternoon with her, I thought I would pass the time by watching the other apprentices sparring on the practice ground. I found Sparrow and Taia there, using wooden swords and wicker shields. They were well matched. Taia was a head taller than Sparrow and had a longer reach, but Sparrow was more agile, and much more skillful.

While Sparrow was clearly enjoying herself, Taia appeared to be half-hearted. She didn't seem to mind that time after time Sparrow's sword found its way past her guard. At last she tossed her sword and shield aside and wiped the sweat from her brow with the tail of her shirt.

"Shall we try with real swords?" Sparrow asked her.

Taia shook her head. "It's too hot," she said, and went to join a few of the other girls, who were resting in the shadow of the earthworks.

Sparrow turned to me. "Will you practice with me?"

"I can't," I said.

"Why not?"

"My warrior doesn't want me to practice with a sword."

Sparrow knew, of course, that I had been learning the bow, but I hadn't yet told her what Maara had said, that I would never be strong enough to fight with sword and shield. I was ashamed to admit that to anyone.

"Let's go for a walk then," she said.

We went down to the river. Sparrow undressed and waded into the water, to wash off the sweat and dust of the practice ground. Then she joined me on the riverbank. The cold water had made her nipples shrivel up, and I thought briefly about taking one of them into my mouth.

"What does your warrior think she's doing?" Sparrow asked me.

I knew what she meant, but I didn't know how to answer her.

"She's putting you at a disadvantage," Sparrow said. "Whether you're any good with a sword or not, you must carry one if you're going to be a warrior."

"Maara doesn't think so," I replied. "She wants me to have a weapon I can use."

Sparrow sighed. "What does the Lady say?"

"She hasn't said anything to me."

"She will."

As much as I had protested Maara's decision, I found myself defending it as if it were my own. "It is Maara who is under an obligation to teach me. She'll teach me what seems best to her, and the Lady should have nothing to say about it."

Sparrow pursed her lips, but she held her tongue. She knew better than to remind me that Maara wasn't one of us, although I knew that was just what she was thinking.

"I'm not saying you shouldn't learn the bow," she said. "We all train with the bow a little. But why not learn to use a sword as well?"

"Maara says I'll never be strong enough to wield a sword," I admitted at last. "She's right. I'll always be too small."

"Listen," Sparrow said. "Small has nothing to do with it. You saw Taia just now. She's the tallest woman in Merin's house and as strong as an ox, but she has no skill with a sword. She doesn't work at it. She doesn't have to. She'll never be called upon to carry a sword into battle herself. Next year she'll go home with her sword and shield and hang them on the wall and be done with them."

"Taia will never go into battle?"

"Taia is the first daughter of her house," said Sparrow. "She'll wear a sword like the Lady does, as a symbol of her authority, but I doubt she'll have to use it any more than the Lady has used hers."

"But the Lady fought in the war."

"Who told you that?"

No one had told me in so many words. "My mother sometimes talked about the war. She said that the Lady, young as she was, commanded warriors twice her age."

"Yes," Sparrow said. "She commanded them, but how could she have commanded them if she had been in the melee alongside them? She would have stayed where she could watch the battle, and her guard would have protected her."

How was it that I knew so little of war when my own mother had been in the midst of it? By the time she earned her shield, the fighting was over, but she must have known the things that Sparrow was now telling me. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that my mother spoke very little about what had happened to her during the war. She had told me how terrible it was and how afraid she'd been, both for herself and for those she loved. She had shared her grief with me, but she had never told me about the things she'd seen and done and seen others do.

"How did you learn so much about the war?" I asked Sparrow.

"Eramet told me. She heard the stories from her mother and from Vintel."

"How would Vintel know about the war?"

"Vintel was here. She spent her childhood here. She was young then, but she must have been aware of what was going on."

"Oh." I lay back in the grass. "I have so much to learn."

"So have we all."

I looked up at her, and the curve of her breast caught my eye.

"You can touch me if you like," she said.

I blushed, embarrassed that she had understood what I wanted before I was aware of it myself. She took my hand in hers and held it against her breast. I forgot my embarrassment. I supported the soft weight of her breast in the palm of my hand and brushed my thumb over her nipple, to watch it shrivel up again. She closed her eyes. Her face showed me the pleasure my touch gave her, and seeing it gave me pleasure too.

She opened her eyes and caught me watching her. She smiled at me, then stood up and held out her hand. I took it, and she pulled me to my feet. When she started to undress me, I tried to help her, but she stopped my hands and made me stand still, as if I were a child.

Sparrow led me naked into the river and began to bathe me. Her hands slipped over my skin with a light and teasing touch. She caressed my breasts, and I felt my nipples harden. She drew her fingertips down my spine, over my hips and belly, and through the curls between my legs. Then I felt a more intimate touch.

"What are you doing?"

She was the image of innocence. "I'm giving you a bath."

I laughed and let her do as she pleased. After a little while she embraced me and whispered in my ear, "Come with me." Then she lay back and let the current take her.

We splashed ashore not far away, where the branches of a willow tree trailed their leafy fingers in the water. Sparrow pulled the branches aside. There was just room enough for the two of us to lie together under the tree. The ground was soft with moss, and the drooping branches hung like a curtain about our own private bower.

Sparrow lay down and would have pulled me down beside her, but I resisted her. I sat beside her and gazed down at her body. I found it beautiful in a way I didn't understand. Beauty, I thought, is for the eye, but the beauty of Sparrow's body demanded to be touched. Her beauty demanded to be held and kissed and changed by my caress into something yet more beautiful.

My fingers traced the line of her collarbone. She shivered, and I thought I'd tickled her, but when I glanced at her face, I saw that my touch had pleased her. I let my hand explore the hollow of her throat, the curve of her shoulder, the roundness of her breast and belly, the softness of the skin on the inside of her thigh. All the while she lay still, her eyes closed, her mouth half-open. Sometimes a certain kind of touch made her catch her breath or caused her body to move in a way that showed me the pleasure she felt.

I lay down beside her and propped myself up on one elbow so that I could continue to caress her.

"Show me how you like to be touched," I said.

She reached up and took my face in her hand. "Kiss me."

When I bent down to kiss her, she pulled away from me a little.

"Lightly," she said. Her lips brushed mine, then retreated. "More than anything, I like to be kissed."

"Why?"

"A kiss will always tell you how someone really feels about you."

She kissed me again, and I thought I understood what she meant.

She took my hand and guided it to her breast.

"Show me," I said.

She smiled. "I will."

And her body did show me. By the way she moved and by the sounds she made, I discovered what gave her pleasure. I found the places where her body was most sensitive. I kissed her throat and felt her pulse quicken under my lips. I took a nipple into my mouth and felt it change.

Her skin grew warm. She took my hand, and I thought she would put it between her legs, but she had me touch her everywhere but there. She wanted me to stroke her belly and the insides of her thighs. Then she opened her legs for me.

I touched her lightly. Her body demanded more, but when I touched her more strongly, she put her hand over mine to stop me.

"Now you must stop listening to what my body asks of you," she breathed into my ear. "Make it last."

I caressed her more gently, and her body became less impatient. She moved in enjoyment of the pleasure I gave her. For a time it was enough. Then she put her arms around me and drew me into a close embrace. I felt her hips lift, and this time I didn't tease her. I gave her body what it asked of me, and her cries of pleasure echoed in my ears like music.

For a long time neither of us moved. I held her close, while my heart overflowed with tenderness. When I brushed her hair back so that I could kiss her brow, I saw that her face was wet with tears.

"What is it?" I asked her. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing's the matter." She brushed her tears away.

"Why are you crying?"

She snuggled into my arms. She didn't answer me.

Sparrow woke me with a kiss.

"Why did you let me fall asleep?" she said. "I wanted to take my time with you. Now it's almost too late."

I looked for the sun and saw that it would soon be time for supper. Maara would be wondering where I was, and no doubt Vintel would be looking for Sparrow.

"It is too late," I said. "We should get back."

When I started to get up, she pulled me back down beside her and rolled on top of me. She gave me a long kiss, and I forgot what time it was.

"Can you come here tomorrow?" she asked me.

"I don't know."

Sparrow grinned down at me. "I won't let you up until you tell me when you can spare a little time for me."

"Soon," I said.

She was satisfied with my answer. She kissed me again. Then she got up and dived through the willow branches into the river.

While we were getting dressed, I worried that we would be late for supper. Vintel would be angry, and the thought of Vintel's anger made me afraid for Sparrow. Would Vintel ask her where she'd been? Would she be unhappy with the answer? I looked up to find Sparrow watching me.

"What is it?" she asked.

Without stopping to think, I blurted out, "Does Vintel know?"

"Does Vintel know what?"

I didn't answer her. She knew what I meant.

"Whether she knows or not, it's none of her business."

"Vintel may not agree with you."

Sparrow finished tying the laces of her shirt. When she looked at me, her eyes revealed her anger and her disappointment. She turned away and started back to Merin's house.

I ran after her. "What's the matter?"

She stopped and turned to face me. "If you're afraid of Vintel, then you had better stay away from me."

The anger in her voice hurt me more than her words. "How little you must know me if you think that Vintel could frighten me away from you."

"Then why do you care what Vintel knows?"

"Because I'm afraid for you. I'm afraid she'll be angry with you. I don't want to be the cause of trouble between you and Vintel, and I don't want you to be sent home."

The anger left her eyes. I was about to tell her that if spending time with me was dangerous for her, I would understand and be glad for whatever she could give me, but she spoke first.

"I don't know what Vintel would think," she said, "but I doubt she'd be glad to give me the afternoon off whenever I wanted to spend some time with you." She gave me a wry smile. "I ought to be more careful, I suppose. I'll try. But I won't let anyone, not even Vintel, tell me what I can or cannot do with my own body. Or with my heart. Never again. Even if Vintel breaks my apprenticeship and they send me home. Do you understand?"