The Jealous Moon

T HAT EVENING MARTEN SHOT a trio of fat rabbits. I dug roots and picked a few herbs, and before the sun was down the five of us sat down to a meal made perfect by the addition of two large loaves of fresh bread, butter, and a crumbly cheese too local to have any specific name.

Spirits were high after a day of good weather, and so with dinner came more stories.

Hespe told a surprisingly romantic tale of a queen who loved a serving boy. She told her story with a gentle passion. And if her telling didn’t show a tender heart, the looks she gave Dedan as she spoke of the queen’s love did.

Dedan, however, failed to see the marks of love on her. And with a folly I have rarely seen equaled, he began to tell a story he’d heard at the Pennysworth Inn. A tale of Felurian.

“The boy who told me this was hardly as old as Kvothe here,” Dedan said. “And if you’d heard him talk you’d have seen he wasn’t the sort who could invent such a tale.” The mercenary tapped his temple meaningfully. “But listen and judge for yourself if it’s worth believing.”

As I’ve said, Dedan had a good tongue in his head, and a sharper wit than you’d guess, when he decided to use it. Unfortunately, this was one of the times that the former was working and the latter was not.

“For time out of mind, men have been wary of this stretch of woods. Not for fear of lawless men or becoming lost.” He shook his head. “No. They say the fair folk make their homes here.

“Cloven-hoofed pucks that dance when the moon is full. Dark things with long fingers that steal babes from cribs. Many’s the woman, old wife or new, who leaves out bread and milk at night. And many’s the man who makes well sure he builds his house with all his doors in a row.

“Some might call these folk superstitious, but they know the truth. The safest thing is to avoid the Fae, but barring that, you want to keep in their good graces.

“This is a story of Felurian. Lady of Twilight. Lady of the First Quiet. Felurian, who is death to men. But a glad death, and one they go to willingly.”

Tempi drew a breath. It was a small motion, but it was eye-catching as he’d continued his habit of sitting perfectly still through the evening’s stories. Now this made better sense to me. He was being quiet.

“Felurian,” Tempi asked. “Death to men. She is—” he paused. “She is sentin? ” He lifted his hands in front of himself and made a sort of gripping gesture. He eyed us expectantly. Then, seeing we didn’t understand, he touched his sword where it lay at his side.

I understood. “No,” I said. “She’s not one of the Adem.”

Tempi shook his head and pointed at Marten’s bow.

I shook my head. “No. She’s not a fighter at all. She . . .” I trailed off, unable to think of how I would explain how Felurian killed men, especially if we were forced to resort to gestures. Desperate, I looked to Dedan for help.

Dedan didn’t hesitate. “Sex,” he said frankly. “Do you know sex?”

Tempi blinked, then threw back his head and laughed. Dedan looked as if he were trying to decide whether or not to be offended. After a moment Tempi caught his breath. “Yes,” he said simply. “Yes. I know sex.”

Dedan smiled. “That’s how she kills men.”

For a moment, Tempi looked more blank than usual, then a slow horror spread across his face. No, not horror, it was raw disgust and revulsion, made all the worse by the fact that his face was usually so blank. His hand clenched into several unfamiliar gestures at his side. “How?” he choked out the word.

Dedan started to say something, then stopped. Then he started to make a gesture and stopped that as well, looking self-consciously at Hespe.

Hespe chuckled low in her throat and turned to Tempi. She thought for a moment, then made a gesture as if holding someone in her arms, kissing them. Then she began to tap her chest rhythmically, mimicking a heartbeat. She beat faster and faster, then stopped, clenching her hand into a fist and making her eyes wide. She tensed her whole body, then went limp, lolling her head to one side.

Dedan laughed and clapped at her performance. “That’s it. But sometimes . . .” He tapped his temple, then snapped his fingers, crossing his eyes and sticking out his tongue. “Crazy.”

Tempi relaxed. “Oh,” he said, plainly relieved. “Good. Yes.”

Dedan nodded and settled back into his story. “Right. Felurian. Fondest desire of all men. Beauty beyond compare.” For Tempi’s benefit, he made a gesture as if he were brushing out long hair.

“Twenty years ago, this boy’s father and uncle were out hunting in this very stretch of forest as the sun began to set. They stayed out later than they should, then decided to make their way home by cutting straight through the forest instead of using the road like sensible folk.

“They hadn’t been walking very long when they heard singing in the distance. They made their way toward it, thinking they were close to the road, but instead they found themselves at the edge of a small clearing. And there stood Felurian singing softly to herself:

Cae-Lanion Luhial

di mari Felanua

Kreata Tu ciar

tu alaran di

Dirella. Amauen.

Loesi an delan

tu nia vor ruhlan

Felurian thae.”

Though Dedan made rough work of the tune, I shivered at the sound of it. The melody was eerie, compelling, and utterly unfamiliar. I didn’t recognize the language, either. Not a bit of it.

Dedan nodded as he saw my reaction. “More than anything, that song gives the boy’s story the ring of truth. I can’t put a bit of sense to those words, but they stuck right in my head even though he only sang it once.

“So the two brothers are huddled at the edge of the clearing. And thanks to the moon they could see like it was noon instead of night. She wan’t wearing a stitch, and though her hair was almost to her waist, it were real obvious she was as naked as the moon.”

I have always enjoyed stories about Felurian, but as I glanced at Hespe my anticipation cooled. She was watching Dedan, and as he spoke, her eyes narrowed.

Dedan failed to see this. “She was tall with long graceful legs. Her waist was slender, her hips curved as if begging for the touch of a hand. Her stomach was perfect and smooth, like a flawless piece of birch bark, and the dimple of her navel seemed made for kissing.”

Hespe’s eyes were dangerous slits by this point. But even more telling was her mouth, which had formed a thin, straight line. A word of advice to you. Should you ever see that look on a woman’s face, leave off talking at once and sit on both your hands. It may not mend matters, but it will at least keep you from making them any worse.

Unfortunately Dedan continued, his thick hands gesturing in the firelight. “Her breasts were full and round, like peaches waiting to be taken from the tree. Even the jealous moon which steals the color from all things couldn’t hide the rosy—”

Hespe made a disgusted noise and pushed herself to her feet. “I’ll just leave then,” she said. Her voice held such a chill even Dedan couldn’t miss it.

“What?” He looked up to her, still holding his hands in front of himself, frozen in the act of cupping an imagined pair of breasts.

She stormed away, muttering under her breath.

Dedan let his hands drop heavily into his lap. His expression moved from confused to injured to angry in the space of a breath. After a second he got to his feet, roughly brushing bits of leaf and twig from his pants and muttering to himself. Gathering up his blankets, he started toward the other side of our little clearing.

“Did it end with both brothers chasing after her, and the boy’s father falling behind?” I asked.

Dedan looked back at me. “You’ve already heard it then. You could have stopped me if you didn’t—”

“I’m just guessing,” I said quickly. “I hate not hearing the ending of a story.”

“Father put his foot in a rabbit hole,” Dedan said shortly. “Sprained his ankle. Nobody saw the uncle again.” He stalked out of the circle of firelight, his expression grim.

I cast an imploring look at Marten, who shook his head. “No,” he said softly. “I won’t have any part of it. Not for the world. Trying to help right now would be like trying to put out a fire with my hands. Painful, and with no real results.”

Tempi began to make up his bed. Marten made a circular gesture with one finger and gave me a questioning look, asking if I wanted the first watch. I nodded, and he gathered up his bedroll, saying, “Attractive as some things are, you have to weigh your risks. How badly do you want it, how badly are you willing to be burned?”

I spread the fire and soon the deep dark of night settled into the clearing. I lay on my back, looked at the stars, and thought of Denna.

Date: 2015-02-03; view: 672