One Realm Beyond Read Free Page A

force that had bound him. Not by word or expression did he show any annoyance at Ahma’s prank. He sank into his wooden chair and fingered the utensils he’d used as a model for the problems he’d observed.
    The kittens poured through the opening and circled Ahma’s legs. She shooed them away, then with the same dismissive voice she ordered Cantor to bathe.
    “You smell like fish and sweat and river sludge. I’ll not have you at my table, reeking. Especially tonight.”
    Cantor bobbed her another fancy bow and ran out the door.
    Ahma followed and stopped in the entryway to holler. “Brainless boy, come back and get clean clothes!”
    Cantor stopped in his tracks, then ran backward to the cabin. He kissed Ahma’s cheek as he passed her to enter, and then again, when he left with a wad of clean clothes under his arm.
    “The soap!”
    He backed up and grabbed a bar beside the front door where a bucket sat ready for washing hands. He winked at Ahma and cartwheeled, using the hand that did not hold soap and clothing.
    She grinned. “He’ll never grow up.”
    Cantor twirled in place to give his Ahma a jaunty bow.
    “Right.” Odem’s chortle garbled the words, but Cantor understood him. “And that’s what will make him good at his job. Energy, pluck, quick on his feet and in his mind. He’ll lead the council in a merry jig.”
    Cantor did a last cartwheel, but refrained from continuing. His feet now trod over slippery shale on the hill besidethe cabin. But he was pleased. He’d worked hard for Ahma’s smile. Playing the clown often pulled her out of grumpiness when nothing else would.
    Odem was more amenable. But his approving words were a balm to Cantor’s doubts. Many times he thought that the ordinary existence he lived did little to guarantee success in his fated profession. But Odem thought highly of what few skills he had. Perhaps he would be an acclaimed realm walker. He’d see soon enough if he was fool or knight. One could not fake being a realm walker.
    Cantor took off at a faster pace, eager to finish this chore and get back to a fine fish dinner, more talk of the planes, the initiation, and perhaps an invitation to accompany Odem on his journey to set things right between Richra and Derson.
    He did his cleansing in the tepid flow of water from an underground spring that fell from the rocks into a pool deep enough to dive into and wide enough to provide a decent swim. The water from the depths of the plane was warm, unlike the snow run-off in the lake.
    He soaped up, rinsed off, and soaped up again. Following the second dive to the bottom to remove every bubble clinging to his skin, he hauled himself out and shook his head. Water splattered the bushes around him. He looked for a towel and realized he’d forgotten to bring one.
    Grinning, he pulled on his shirt first, then wrangled the rest of his clothes over his damp skin. He plowed his fingers through his wet hair, taming the curls only marginally. A yellow songbird landed on a branch, tilted its head, and let out a trilling whistle ending with what sounded like a hiccup. It repeated its performance several times.
    “I hear you.” Cantor leaned back with his hands at his hips,puckered his mouth slightly to whistle, and echoed the yellow bird’s song.
    The bird hopped about the branches, twittering in excitement. It stopped to sing again. Cantor obliged with a reply.
    “I’ve got to go now, bird. Ahma is fixing dinner and tonight is a special” — he held up a finger — “make that a very special night.”
    He went out of his way to pass through the edge of the forest where he gathered a variety of greens and herbs. Ahma loved fresh greens in a huge bowl of salad. He hoped his old mentor would be in a good mood for the initiation. He plucked sweet tamaron from a vine. The tiny purple buds would spice up the vinaigrette. Another favorite for Ahma.
    Perhaps the initiation would be easy, and Ahma would not growl and grumble over all the wasted