Firebirds Soaring Read Free Page A

risen and roared and ordered me to leave the table. But instead, without so much as lifting his eyebrows, he replied, “It is the custom that the king’s sister’s son should be his heir.”
    Indeed, such was the very old tradition, a reminder of the time when kinship was reckoned through the woman. But now that men also laid claim to their children, this ancient way of thinking no longer held force of law.
    I demanded of my father, “And to this custom you cleave?”
    “Yes.”
    He lied.
    My sooth-sense told me: if I were a boy instead of a girl, I would be the next high king.
    But letting no emotion show in my face, I nodded and turned to my cousin, the sister-son, the chosen one. “Korbye,” I asked him, “when you are king, will you think more of the clansfolks’ well-being or of your own pleasure?”
    And quite tamely, as if I sat in judgment and he stood before me, he answered, “Of course I will consider always first and foremost the needs of my clans, my people.”
    He lied.
    He would consider always first and foremost his own greed.
    Why, then, should he be high king after my father?
    Why not I? With this ring of power on my arm, I could make my father do as I pleased. I could claim the throne. I could be the first high queen, Vranwen Alarra of Wredkyte, earthly avatar of the moon, and no one would ever again dare to cry at me, “Wren this ” and “Wren that .” Embodiment of the goddess, I would rule my people for their own good. I would rid the clans of brigands and thieves, lying snakes such as Korbye—
    Kill him?
    Yes.
    How best to have it done? Behead him?
    Too noble.
    Hang him?
    Too gentle.
    Torture first. The thumbscrews, the rack. Next, burn him at the stake or rend him limb from limb with horses—
    And then such horror shook me that I am sure it showed on my face, for never before had such fancies manifested in me.
    Enormities.
    Cold as the moon.
    My own thoughts unnerved me so that I leapt up from my unfinished dinner. Gasping, “Excuse me,” I fled.
     
    Through the dark-timbered doorway to the shadowy courtyard I ran, across the cobbles to the postern gate, out of my father’s stronghold and away across the moors to the same place I had visited so sunnily earlier that same day, at the edge of the sea cliff.
    There I halted, panting.
    Not far away stood the tower of stone with the huge boulder rocking as gently as a cradle atop it.
    Overhead a full moon swam like a swan amid scudding clouds. The sea wind blew strong, lifting my gown’s wide sleeves as if I might take flight. Below, the breakers roared, gleaming silver-green in the moonbeams.
    I snatched from my arm the ring of that same sheen, the color of the moonlit sea. I lifted that circle of mystery metal in both hands, presenting it to the goddess in the sky. Surrounding her, it shone like her dark and hollow sister.
    It called to me.
    My horror had passed, seeming of no account. More than ever, I yearned to cherish my treasure and be powerful. Destiny had given this ring to me to make me a queen.
    “Wren? ”
    A man’s voice, behind me. Turning, lowering my arms, I knew who it was.
    “Father.”
    He strode forward to stand beside me, shining golden even in the silver moonlight. Quite gently he asked, “What is that you held up to the sky?”
    I gripped the ring with both hands. Instead of answering my father’s question, I said harshly, “Korbye should not be king.”
    “Why so?”
    “He lied. He cares only for himself.”
    “Granted, he is a greedy young boar hog now, but do you not think he will change as he grows older?”
    “Think you so?”
    If he had said yes, he would have spoken untruth, and he did not dare. He did not know any longer what I would do, whether I might call him liar to his face. He knew only that something had vastly changed, and he guessed why.
    He said, “Give me that thing you are holding.”
    “No.” I stepped away from him so that he could not seize the ring.
    Never in my life had I defied