A Journey of the Heart (32 page)

"I'm sorry," she said. "I know you're in a difficult position."

Sparrow felt me pull myself into a tight knot around my wounded heart.

"Oh dear," she said. "I didn't mean to scold."

She took my hand in hers and kissed it. She would have gone on holding it, but I withdrew it from her grasp.

"Please don't be angry with me," she said. She brushed my hair away from my face and caressed my cheek. Her tenderness brought me closer to tears than her sharp words had done.

"I need your friendship," I whispered. "More now than ever."

Sparrow's hand cupped my chin and lifted my face up so that she could look me in the eye. "I'll always be your friend," she said. "Never doubt it." She leaned toward me and kissed me gently on the mouth.

Something disturbed the air. At the far end of the great hall someone was standing in the shadows. I felt her eyes.

"You don't know Vintel as I do," said Sparrow.

I wished then that I had told Sparrow what Vintel had done to Maara, what Vintel had done to the man who killed Eramet. Then she would see her warrior in a different light.

"I know you suspect her motives," Sparrow said, "but she does what she believes she must, to protect us all, to keep us safe. If you knew what I know about her, you'd understand."

Across the hall the figure in the shadows stood very still.

"Tell me then," I challenged her. "Tell me what you know about Vintel that you believe could change my mind."

"Her mother brought her here when she was only eight years old," she said. "When she was ten, she saw her mother killed in the fighting with the northern tribes."

I opened my mouth to say that, while I understood Vintel's grief, it didn't justify the things she'd done. Sparrow put her finger on my lips to stop me.

"There's more," she said. "That same evening Vintel took her mother's sword. She slipped away from Merin's house and went to the northerners' camp. The northerners were sitting around their campfires eating their evening meal. Vintel walked in among them. She was just a little girl, dragging a sword she could barely lift. No one tried to stop her. They thought it was funny. They watched her, and they laughed. She went from group to group until she found the warrior who had killed her mother. Then she lifted that heavy sword and nearly took the woman's arm off."

I had forgotten we were being watched. My eyes were on Sparrow's face, while my mind formed a vivid picture of that courageous child.

"What happened then?" I asked.

"She wouldn't tell me, but I've seen the scars she bears."

"Many have grievances against the northerners, just as the northerners must have many grievances against us. What does that have to do with her hatred for Maara, or for me?"

"Before the fighting started," Sparrow said, "the northerners had feasted day after day with our warriors right here in this hall. They passed Vintel from lap to lap and fed her the tenderest bits of meat and bread dipped in honey. Those who could speak as we do told her stories, and the others sang to her in their strange tongue. When she fell asleep at last, one or another of them would carry her up to bed. They were strangers, and she trusted them. It was a mistake she'll never make again."

Although I didn't want to see Vintel as Sparrow saw her, I understood the feelings of the child Vintel had been. The northerners' betrayal must have been incomprehensible to her, and the loss of her mother impossible to bear.

In the back of my mind a warning sounded. Maara had taught me not to let compassion blind me to the malice of an enemy. Understanding Vintel made her no less dangerous. It was time to show Sparrow the side of Vintel I had seen.

"I've always understood why Vintel distrusted Maara," I said. "Everyone distrusted her a little, but it was Vintel who put her in harm's way."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Maara was wounded almost to death because Vintel failed to stand by her."

I expected Sparrow to be shocked. Instead she said, "That wasn't Vintel's fault. Warriors are wounded all the time."

"When a warrior is wounded because her comrades refuse to help her," I said, "that is someone's fault."

Sparrow frowned. "I don't think Maara can be a fair judge of what happened."

It took me a moment to understand that Sparrow already knew what Vintel had done. "What did Vintel have to say about it?"

"She said that Maara got herself into trouble. Vintel had to make a choice, and she chose the people she cared about."

"Vintel was their leader. She was responsible for them all."

Sparrow considered her words before she spoke. Then she said, "Would you leave Maara's side to help a stranger?"

I didn't want to admit, to her or to myself, that I would not.

"The others understood. They didn't blame Vintel."

"I do," I said.

"Of course you do. But with you it's personal. You cared for Maara."

Sparrow's words woke my memory of a time that seemed very long ago. Sparrow was mistaken. I hadn't cared for Maara then, and because I didn't care for her, I might have let her die. When I threw the healer's sleeping potion out, it was the impulse of a moment. I could just as easily have done what I was told. The thought terrified me. I almost lost my warrior before I knew what I was losing. That was Vintel's doing, and I could not forgive her for it.

I believed that it was I, not Sparrow, who was seeing Vintel clearly, but I couldn't make Sparrow see what she didn't want to see. I rubbed my eyes.

"I think it's time for bed," I said.

Sparrow nodded and stood up. She took my hand and drew me to my feet, but when I turned to go upstairs, she held me there.

"Are you still angry with me?" she asked.

I shook my head.

Sparrow pulled me gently into her arms and held me for a little while, so that I would feel her love for me. Then she stepped away and took both my hands in hers. "Friends?" she asked.

I nodded. "Friends," I told her. "Always."

Someone laid a pine bough on the fire. It smoldered a little, sending its fragrance out into the great hall. Then the dry needles burst into flame. In the sudden light I saw Vintel, who had been standing in the shadows all this time. On her face I saw a look of pain as if her heart would break.

The light lasted only for a moment. Vintel vanished into the dark.

I began to doubt what I had seen. Anger I would have understood. Even jealousy, that Sparrow was as much my friend as hers. Perhaps that was what I saw.

I watched the place where Vintel had been, but I sensed no presence there. I watched until another bough caught fire and drove the shadows back again. Vintel was gone.

Sparrow turned to see what I was looking at.

"Vintel was watching us," I whispered.

Sparrow gave me a teasing smile. "What an imagination you have. You see enemies lurking everywhere."

"No," I insisted. "She was there." I gripped Sparrow's hands more tightly and looked into her eyes. "Do you love Vintel?"

Sparrow hesitated. "Yes and no," she said.

I waited, hoping she would tell me more.

"I have an affection for her," Sparrow said, more softly, "but I don't love her the way -- " She looked away from me. I waited. I thought she was going to say that she didn't love Vintel the way she had loved Eramet. Instead she said, so softly I could barely hear her, " -- the way Vintel loves me."

I stood outside my warrior's door. Her lamp was out. She must already be asleep. I hardly knew what I was going to say to her. The world had changed, and no one had noticed it but me.

I lifted the curtain and went in. The room was filled with moonlight. I stood in the doorway and gazed at Maara's face. No one would have said she was a beauty, but I found her beautiful, and I wondered how anyone could look at her and fail to see her as she was, as someone of great value, as someone just like us. But Vintel and others like her would see only what was on the surface. They would see the color of her skin, the shape of her eyes and mouth, the texture of her hair, and they would see no further.

Though I wouldn't have admitted it to Sparrow, in my heart I had found a little compassion for Vintel. Knowledge of her sorrows made understandable the way she dealt with strangers. Was it possible for someone who had learned to hate in childhood to unlearn it later in life? If it was not, the world would never change.

Maara murmured in her sleep. I hesitated to disturb her dreams. I waited until she was quiet before I approached the bed and sat down beside her. She woke and looked at me.

"I think I'm in trouble," I said.

Maara sat up. "What is it?"

When I opened my mouth to speak, I didn't know where to begin.

"What happened?"

I thought for a minute she was going to take me by the shoulders and shake me.

"Tonight -- " I said.

"What?"

"Tonight I saw Vintel -- "

I took a breath. There was no way to describe that look.

"Vintel loves Sparrow," I whispered.

"Oh," she said. She didn't sound surprised. "I don't think you have anything to worry about."

"Of course I do."

I was thinking that any humiliation I had caused Vintel or any resentment she felt that I might someday be in a position of authority over her was nothing compared to the pain of wounded love.

Maara looked puzzled. "Does Sparrow love Vintel?"

"Sparrow?"

I didn't understand. This had nothing to do with Sparrow.

"Are you afraid you're going to lose her?"

I stared at Maara for a moment before I realized that she thought I'd come to her to talk about Sparrow and me.

"No," I said. "I'm afraid of Vintel's jealousy."

Maara frowned. "Why does Vintel's jealousy surprise you?"

She had reason to be impatient with me.

"When you warned me about this," I said, "I didn't take it to heart. It meant nothing to me then, because Sparrow and I weren't -- "

Maara waited for me to find the word.

" -- what you thought."

"But you are now."

"Yes," I whispered. "No. Not really."

"I don't understand you."

"Sparrow is my friend," I said. "More than my friend."

Once again I couldn't find the words for what Sparrow was to me. I had never been so tongue-tied.

"Hush," said Maara. "You don't have to explain."

"Yes," I said. "I do." I wanted to tell her the whole truth, so that there would be no more misunderstandings.

"Sparrow loved Eramet," I said. "She may never again love anyone the way she loved Eramet. She and I are friends, and we love each other, but not like that." I took a deep breath and met Maara's eyes. "Vintel loves Sparrow like that."

"Oh," said Maara. She had a strange expression on her face. Her eyes looked worried, while at the same time her mouth trembled, then softened into almost a smile.

I smiled too, from relief that the most difficult part of our conversation was over.

"How did you find out?" she asked. "Did Sparrow tell you?"

I told Maara what had happened that evening, and for the first time I saw the irony in it. While Sparrow was trying to make me see Vintel as she did, with understanding and compassion, Vintel must have felt betrayed.

Maara pulled her legs up, rested her chin on her knees, and gazed past my shoulder into the dark. She was silent for a long time.

I waited while she thought over what I'd told her. There were other things I would have liked to tell her, but until we dealt with the problem of Vintel they would have to wait. I wanted to make her understand why I had ignored her warning. I wanted to explain why I had never told her that my friendship with Sparrow wasn't what she thought. I wanted her to understand how it had become something more than friendship, and that by the time I remembered her advice it was too late to take it. Most of all I wanted to tell her I was sorry that I hadn't told her all these things before.

"What do you think Vintel will do?" she said at last.

"I have no idea."

"Be very careful. Don't let her catch you alone."

I nodded.

"I never thought about love," said Maara.

Her words sent a prickle of fear into my heart. "What?"

"It never entered my head that Vintel was capable of love. Did it ever occur to you?"

"Oh," I said. "No, I suppose not."

"Hatred can be just as blind as love," she said.

I had, of course, heard it said that love is blind. I knew what people meant by that. They meant that we never see the imperfections or the faults of our beloved. That night those words meant something else to me. Perhaps it was the moonlight. Perhaps it was the look I'd seen on Vintel's face. That night I saw that I had been blind to something in myself, and that my heart's desire, so looked for and so longed for, was at that moment before my eyes.

I heard a sound behind me. I turned to see Tamar standing in the doorway, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

"Someone woke me up," she said. She sounded grumpy. "I told her to deliver her own message, but she insisted that I had to do it." Tamar turned to Maara. "She said to tell you that Laris wants to speak with you. She's waiting for you by the river."

"Now?" asked Maara.

"I suppose." Tamar turned to me. "Who is Laris?"

"Laris is a friend," I said.

"Where is the messenger?" Maara asked her.

"Gone," said Tamar. "May I go back to bed?"

Maara nodded, and Tamar left us.

"Laris's timing is impeccable," said Maara, as she got out of bed.

"Why didn't she come in?"

"She may want to know how things are before she enters Merin's house."

I remembered how cautious Laris was.

Maara pulled on her trousers and tucked the long tails of her sleeping shirt into them. Then she sat down beside me to put on her boots.

"Do you think she's come back to stay?" I asked her.

"I hope so."

Maara finished tying the laces of her boots. "If Laris does stay, her presence may be enough to keep Vintel from doing something foolish, but if she doesn't -- " Maara turned and looked at me. "If she's here to renew her offer of refuge, I think we should go with her. I need to know before I speak with her. Will you go with me?"