Jon Sparks

Sumyra

"The swallows always return before the Dawnsingers arrive," Papa had said a few years back, and it had always been true. Usually the swallows would appear before the end of Floreander, with the Dawnsingers a few weeks later, rarely before the middle of Meadander.

It made sense, thought Sumyra, because both depended on the weather. The Dawnsingers couldn’t make the Crossing until the deep snow was gone from the passes, and the swallows—presumably—also needed warmth for their journeys from… wherever it was they went for more than half the year. Though how, she wondered, did they know what the weather would be like when they got here?

There were always more questions.

Anyway, this year had followed the pattern, with the swallows back and settled into their nests before the Dawnsingers came down from the hills. She’d been pleased, but not greatly surprised, to see Master Analind at the head of the party.

What was a surprise was the arrival of Jerya just one day later. She greeted Analind with warmth, and her companions with perfect friendliness, but Sumyra had the clear impression it was Mamma she’d really come to see.

#

At first, their conversation seemed perfectly innocuous, and Sumyra saw no reason to announce her presence until she had finished in the instrument store. But then Mamma said something too low for her to hear, and Jerya’s reply had an edge of what sounded like weariness. "It's a promise I made him years ago. Ten… no, eleven years now. And I don't know when I'll get a better chance."

"And you're happy leaving Torvyn for weeks on end?"

She imagined Jerya shrugging. "Happy isn't exactly the word. Riding away yesterday, I was pretty much broken for a long while. I’ve hardly worn a veil lately, but I was glad of it then… But Tor's six now. Hedric's going to enjoy being the sole parent, Elleret dotes on her, and there'll be a whole load of Dawnsingers and summer-school girls to fuss over her too… I reckon she'll be just fine."

Mamma sighed audibly. "I'm not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?"

"It's not just my promise to Embrel. I want to see my mother again. She must be over seventy, and… well, you know. And Yanil, and Jossena, and Evisyn. But if I went without taking him… I'm not sure he'd ever forgive me."

"I understand that. But you could take him to Carwerid without…"

"Without seeing Rodal? Do you really think that would work?"

"I suppose not. But that doesn't mean he has to know."

"If we get to that point, no one's going to need to tell him."

This was all very mysterious, and more than ever Sumyra knew she should not be listening. But as long as she was in the instrument store there was no getting away from it, and there was no other exit. She glanced up at the skylight and thought that in theory she could climb out, but she surely couldn’t do it quietly enough to escape detection. 

Deliberately she rattled the lid of the sterilising vessel. Jerya, who'd just been saying, "…never quite understood why you're so dead set against…" broke off and called out, "Someone there?"

Sumyra could feel her cheeks warm as she emerged. "I'm sorry." Mamma just looked at her, in the way that was almost worse than a scolding. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop."

"Well, I'm glad you came clean when you did," said Jerya. Mamma looked less forgiving. Sumyra decided she would wait for another moment.

***

"Countess…"

"Ah, Sumyra. We've hardly had a moment to talk, have we, just the two of us? All these Dawnsingers cluttering up the place…"

"Oh, I like Dawnsingers. But that's why I…"

Jerya saw her hesitation and smiled. "Let's see if I can guess what you're wanting to say. You heard that I'm planning a trip to the Sung Lands, and taking Embrel with me… And you wondered if there might be room for one more?"

"You read my mind."

"Hardly needed to," said Jerya, smiling. "Simple deduction. I've known you a few years now, I know you're fascinated by Dawnsingers and their knowledge; you've been to every summer-school so far. I can hardly imagine you'd pass up an opportunity to see Carwerid, the College, maybe the Observatory."

"Then do you think it's possible?"

"Let me put it this way. For myself, I have no objection. No, that came out wrong. I'd be very happy to have your company.  But I'm not the only one who'd have to agree. I made the promise to Embrel, not to you."

"I can't see any reason why he'd object." They’d always been good friends, and the possibility of something more had never quite gone away.

"I'm glad to hear it. But you still need your parents' agreement."

"Do I, though? I'm eighteen."

"All right, legally you don't need their permission. Legally, you could set out and tackle the Crossing all on your own. But if they objected, would you really want to go against them?"

"No, but why would they?"

"Well, there's one sure way to find out. And by the way, you don’t need to call me Countess."

"I can’t quite call you Preceptor any more, can I? Now I’ve finished school."

"Perhaps not. But friends call me by my name."

***

"The route's really very safe these days," said Jerya. "I've been talking with Analind. I'd think twice—and more than twice—about taking them over the Northern Crossing, but taking two sensible young people—" Mamma made a small sound.

"I'm eighteen, Mamma. I'm not a child any more. Or don't you think I'm sensible?"

"Of course I do, sweetheart. It's not that."

"And I'm not suddenly going to decide I want to stay in Carwerid and be a Dawnsinger. I promise you that."

Jerya chuckled. "They wouldn't have you anyway. The Guild was never in the habit of taking any Postulants after the usual age, and I reckon I put them off completely."

That was an interesting thought. "You weren't much older than me, were you?"

"Nineteen."

"You did the Northern Crossing, hardly older than I am now, when it was completely unknown. Just the two of you."

Neither Mamma nor Jerya said anything to this. They were looking at each other; Jerya's expression seemed particularly challenging. Mamma was pale, or as pale as she could be under her coppery skin. There were things going on between them, undercurrents, that Sumyra was at a loss to understand. And for the first time since she'd known them—a full six years for Mamma, and only a few months less for Jerya—they seemed to be at odds.

Mamma pulled her gaze away, turned to Sumyra, took a deep breath. "Sumyra, my darling, do you trust me?"

"Of course I do, Mamma."

"Then will you trust me when I say that there is a reason I don't want you to do this? A reason that has nothing to do with you or my opinion of you. Nothing to do with thinking you aren't sensible or capable. Quite the opposite, I have the highest opinion… Sumyra, maybe I haven't told you often enough how very proud I am of you."

For a moment they gazed at each other. There was much love in Mamma’s gaze, but sometimes love wasn’t quite enough. "Thank you, Mamma. And I am proud of you too. But if you think so highly of me, can't you trust me enough to tell me the reason?"

Mamma frowned. "It's something in my past; I can tell you that much. I'd tell you all if I was the only one involved, but it bears on other people too. People close to me, people I also care about. People you care about."

Sumyra shot a glance at her father, but his eyes were fixed on Mamma. Mamma, however, saw. "This was long before I knew your father."

"Does he know? Do you, Papa?"

"If Mamma is referring to what I think she is, she told me before we were married."

"But I can't be trusted to know?"

"If trust were the only issue, I would say we should tell you in a heartbeat. But Mamma… in my judgement, your Mamma has absolutely no call to feel the slightest sense of shame. As I have told her many times."

"Sometimes," said Jerya, "You can hear an answer and then wish you'd never asked the question. But then it's too late. You can't un-hear it."

Mamma's head was bowed, her posture rigid. Sumyra loved her Mamma too much to ignore her distress; but something in her still drove her on. "And you're saying that if I go to Carwerid I will hear the answer?"

When Mamma said nothing, Jerya supplied the answer. "Almost certainly, I'd say."

"It's something to do with when you were Dawnsingers, then. It must be. But I already know that you broke your Vows."

Mamma's head snapped up. "How do you know that?"

"I know Countess Jerya did. Last year, at summer-school, she talked about it. She didn't mention you, Mamma, but when I learned what the Vows said, it was obvious you must have broken yours too. And I know that would—that you would feel ashamed."

"I suppose I did, at first," said Mamma. "And I should have talked with you about it… why didn't you say anything when you came back from last year's summer-school? Ask me about it?"

"Because I supposed it would be painful for you. I thought if you wanted to talk about it you'd have told me…" Thoughts whirled in her head like moths around a lantern. "But there's something else, isn't there? The reason you don't want me to… it's not just about breaking your Vows."

"No." That was all Mamma said. 

"Rai, my dear," said Jerya. "You know we haven't always seen eye to eye on this. But you know I've never revealed the truth to anyone, save Hedric, and then only with your permission."

Sumyra wondered if she should feel resentful that Mamma apparently trusted Jerya's husband with the secret, but not her own daughter. Step-daughter, she thought, but even at this hard moment she knew that was unworthy. Railu was the only mother she had ever known, and she did not see how a true mother could have loved her more.

Jerya was still speaking. "And I won't break your confidence now… but I urge you to consider that the truth may well escape now anyway. How would you prefer Sumyra find out?"

Mamma said nothing, but Sumyra could see that this last question troubled her deeply. She rose, took three strides, crouched by her mamma's chair, her skirts pooling on the floor. She grasped Mamma's hands in both her own. "I'm sorry, Mamma—mother. I've pushed too hard."

Tears stood in Mamma's eyes. "No, my darling. I can't blame you. Without knowing this secret, you can't understand why I… why I feel the way I do."

Sumyra brushed the tears away, then ran a hand over Mamma's ever-smooth scalp. "No, but I do know, now, how much you feel. I won't push you any more."

"Thank you. Would you… I need to think. Think about the last thing Jerya said. I need to talk to your father."

"Come on," said Jerya, holding out a hand to help Sumyra rise—not that she needed aid, of course. "Let's go find Analind. There's someone she wants you to meet."