Jennifer Roberson Cheysuli 8 A Tapestry of Lions

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pose or arrangement, as if a large negligent hand had spilled him from its
palm onto the vault floor.
He thought perhaps one had.
"Lir?" He gasped it aloud, because before he had refused to honor her in -the
link. "Sima?" And then, scraping himself up from the floor, he wrenched his
body sideways, to grasp frenziedly at the cat who sat quietly by the hole into
which
he had pushed himself. Lir? This time in the link, so there was no room for
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doubt. There would never be doubt again. He would not permit it;
could not allow himself
Sima blinked huge eyes.
He scrabbled to her on awkward knees, needing to touch her fur; requiring to
touch the body that housed the blazing spirit. Lir? Lir?
Sima yawned widely to display fearsome fangs.
Then she shook her head, worked wiry whiskers, and rose. She padded all of two
steps, pressed her head into his shoulder, then butted him down. She was
ungentle; she wanted him to acknowledge the
314 Jennifer Roberson power in her body despite its immaturity. She was lir,
after all; far superior to cat.
He could say nothing but her name. He said it many times despite the fur in
his mouth as she leaned down upon him; despite the weight on his chest as she
lay down across him; despite the warping of his mouth as her tongue reshaped
his lips.
Lir lir lir. He could not say it enough.
Sima kneaded his shoulders. Smugly, she said, Better now than never.
While the tears ran down his face.
Seventeen
Kellin clattered down the stairs to the first floor, intent on his
destination. Behind him came Sima, glossy in mid-morning light; gold eyes
gleamed.
Daily her gangliness faded and was replaced by a burgeoning maturity, as if
full bonding had at last loosed the vestiges of cubhood. She would one day,
Kellin believed, rival Sleeta for size and beauty.
A month ago you would not have considered it, she told him.
A month ago I was lirless, and therefore lacked a soul. What man without a
soul can acknowledge his lir's promise?
Within the link, she laughed. How we have changed in four weeks!
He left behind the staircase and strode on toward the entryway. Some would
argue I have not changed at all; that I still frequent taverns
But not those in the Midden.
No, but taverns all the same
And the women in them?
Kellin grinned; its suddenness startled a passing serving-woman, who dropped
into an awkward, red-faced curtsy even as he went by- 7s there some-
thing you have neglected to tell me? Is there more to a link between warrior
and female lir than I have been led to believe?
That is vulgarity, lir.
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Jennifer Roberson
316
Of course it is. You had best get used to it. No one has ever argued for my
kindness and decency have you not heard the stories?
Sima padded beside him, bumping a shoulder into his knee. / need hear nothing,
lir. What you are is in your mind.
So I gave up privacy when I linked with you.
She yawned. When a warrior bonds with a lir, he no longer desires privacy.
It was true. He shared everything with Sima, save the intimacy his vulgarity
implied. And while she did not climb into the bed he shared with a woman, she
nonetheless was fully aware of what passed within it; she merely curled
herself on the floor and slept or pretended to. Kellin had gotten used to it,
though he supposed there was gossip exchanged regarding a certain perverse
affinity for a mountain cat as onlooker; and he was not cer-
tain he disapproved. Let them wonder about him.
He would sooner be of interest than taken for granted, as he believed the
Mujhar was.
"Kellin! Kellin?" It was Aileen, silver threads more evident in fading hair.
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"Have you a moment?"
He paused as she came down the corridor.
"Now?" He displayed the warbow he carried, and the suede quiver full of
white-fletched arrows. "I
was bound for a hunt with my watchdogs." Kellin grinned. "They require
activity. Of late I bore them, now I am reformed."
Aileen arched an ironic eyebrow. "You are not
'reformed,' my lad, merely diverted. And 'twill only take a moment; a letter
has come from Hart. Bren-
nan wants you in the solar."
"Bad news?"
Aileen touched a fingertip to her upper lip. "I'm thinking not," she said
neutrally, "depending on point of view."
A TAPESTKY OF LIONS 317
"On point of " His suspicions blossomed as he saw the glint in green eyes.
"Gods 'tis Dulcie, isn't it? Grandsire's put off Hart long enough, waiting for
me to measure up ... and now that he believes I've done it, he begins a
discussion about marriage!"
"There was discussion of it a decade ago," she reminded him. " 'Tis nothing
new, and should not surprise you. You are both well-grown."
He put up a silencing hand. "Enough. I will go.
Will you send word to the watchdogs I will be delayed?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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