Excerpt: The Silver Dreaming

Dolia shook her head as she finished untying the sash, and spoke gently as she folded it.

"Enough, now. You are scarce beginning a woman's life. It is not time to begin worrying about growing old. It is time to enjoy growing up."

She touched her daughter's hair, gently, and held out to her the folded sash.

"This must be put away safe, Rynn, and not even touched again until I open it for you at Chana." She caught the younger girl's eye and put on a stern expression.

"No peeking or showing off, now. I will seal this, and it is a great magic. It would be geasa to open it. I would need to make you another one, and there would be a great cost, a penalty, to me and to you. Do you understand, Rynn Alaya?"

At her mother's solemn tone, and the use of her full name, Rynn's eyes widened and her smile froze on her lips. She had not even thought in terms of penalties, especially to her mother. She answered in an equally serious tone, calling her mother "My Lady Mother" instead of "Mama".

"Yes, Matama, I do understand. I will not touch this again, until you give me leave. Yesterday I finished making the case for my maiden-girdle. Here it is."

She handed the folded sash back to her mother, and turned towards the wall under the window, where her carved clothing-chest stood. She opened the lid, and drew out a small box of pale-grey etanwood, inlaid with oblongs of amber and small emerald-colored stones. Inside the box was a pouch of deep-green silk, fastened with a large nugget of amber which was pierced by a braided silken drawstring.

Dolia took the box, laid open to show the bag, and carried it and the girdle to the open window, Rynn watching wide-eyed and silent. She held the open case in one hand and the girdle in the other, and raised them into the streaming sunlight. Then she draped the girdle over the open box, letting it rest upon the silk bag. She cupped her hand and filled her palm with clear water from Rynn's washing-basin, which stood on the shelf beneath the window, and sprinkled water over girdle, bag, and box. She then folded the girdle securely within the silk bag--it just fit--and fastened the clasp. Then she returned the bag to the etanwood casket, and dipping her finger again into the basin, drew an intricate design with the water along the seam of the closed lid, murmuring under her breath. She then turned and handed the case back to her wide-eyed daughter.

"Here you go, Rynn. Place this securely in your journey-case, where it can be easily reached but is secured. And do not open it; no, do not even touch it again until we arrive in Chana."

"What if it comes open?"

"It won't come open."

Rynn took the box carefully, still warily watching her mother with a measure of awe across her brow. Hesitantly, she posed a question.

"What did you say, Mata? Over the box?"

"You will learn that, and other house and family magics, during your Maidenmoons. It is a warding. You will use such things for your own daughters, when you have them."

The solemnity lifted from Dolia's face, and she squeezed her daughter's shoulders in a gentle hug. "Don't look so awestricken, Rynn. The womanweavings are serious, but they're not supposed to be frightening. They are rituals of love and joy. In this lies a woman's power. And only silly, stupid men, and there are few of those in this land, are afraid of powerful women. We can bring much benefit to our families. Do not be afraid of learning to do this. It is your heritage." Dolia patted her daughter's shoulder, smiling reassuringly.

Rynn shook herself a little, and returned her mother's hug. But she didn't return the smile.

"I don't know, Mata. I am afraid, a little. It all seems so--so BIG, somehow, so inevitable. I feel as if I were being swept away. And then--then there are the dreams." She crossed to the padded bench at the foot of the ebony bed and plumped down, tossing her braid over her shoulder so that the ends dangled just above the floor. When she spoke, her voice trembled a little.

"I keep having the same dream--every night since Dark Moon. It wakes me up, and it feels….I don't know, funny. Not a good feeling. Not like other truedreams I've had. I don't like it." As she looked at her mother, the moonsilver haze covered the blue of her eyes--eyes at this moment filled with fear.

Dolia sat down, and took the slim fingers in hers.

"The moondreaming is a great gift, Rynn. Perhaps there may be only two or three truedreamers left in all the world. It is not supposed to bring you fear. I am not a truedreamer myself, but this magic has been in our family for many generations. I think I might be able to help you. Tell me the dream."

Her daughter heaved a sigh of relief, and her voice fell to a conspiratorial murmur.

"I am so glad, Mata. I hoped you could help me. I've never been afraid before. But this dream, this one was different. If it's all right, I do want to tell you. Because I am afraid."

Dolia reached her other hand to smooth back the hair falling over Rynn's brow.

"Just tell me, slowly and calmly, Dara. We can work this out together."

"Well--" She paused, hesitating, and looked for reassurance to her mother's face. Dolia was disturbed by the idea that she might have to urge Rynn to tell her of this dream. Usually the occurrences of the new gift were shared gladly. She patted her daughter's hand, smiled softly, and murmured, "Go on, Rynn. Don't be afraid. Tell me the dream."

"Well, I'm sleeping, and the light comes, you know?" Her mother nodded reassuringly. The silver light was the usual precursor of truedreams.

"So I--the inner me, you know--I wake up inside, to pay attention. And we are all there, leaving the courtyard. Nanka Delar is there, and my brothers, and you and I in the journeytrap, and it's raining--it's going to pour the day we leave, Mata, so take your elar cloak. And the dream goes on as we go on the road--but the time is funny, you know how it is--and then--then, it is as if we ride into a fog….not real fog, nothing so simple, but scary, just--just DARK--and then no one else is there any more, I'm alone, and I can't see, and I try and try until I wake myself up!!"

Tears were welling into the sea-blue eyes from which the silver gleam was receding as Rynn subsided, trembling, to curl into her mother's side like a frightened kitten. Her voice was shaking, barely above a whisper, when she spoke again.

"It--it's NASTY, Mata--it's as if the journey never happens, or--or never ends, or as if I---die."