she saw that she was only one floor up and, using a couple of banners from the wall knotted together to make a rope, she slid down to the ground below and found herself in a meadow covered in small white and yellow flowers. Dew was sparkling on the grass. At the sight of it, the beauty of the life spirit and its joy filled Yani, soothing away all the horror of the night before and filling her with strength and hope. The life spirit was always there even in the worst of places.
Beyond the meadow was a wall and beyond the wall there looked to be a forest. Yani made towards it.
Chapter 3
Jindabyne
A cloud of songbirds, gulls and exuberant parrots swirled in the pale sky above the tower filling the air with a cacophony of shrieks, squawks and songs. Laughing, Duchess Jindabyne Madraga of Lamartaine placed a wide flat bowl of bread and seed upon the battlements.
“Come, come my little greedy ones! There is enough for all,” she cried.
She made the soft twittering sounds that told each species of bird that they were safe - that here was plenty of food and no predators to fear - then stepped back to let them enjoy their feast. A couple of gulls seemed inclined to bully the smaller birds and she used magic to make them go to sleep. Otherwise she did not interfere with their squabbling. Birds were hierarchical creatures and to fight over the pecking order was simply their nature. If you supplied enough food, everyone got enough to eat.
A flock of small finches rose over the battlements and came swirling towards her like a whirlwind of multicoloured petals. One little bird got caught in her hair.
“Hush!” whispered Jindabyne. She willed a sleep spell onto the flurry of terrified feathers and suddenly it was still. Gently she untangled it and held the fragile little creature in her hands, admiring the exquisite form and colour of this tiny piece of the life spirit as the terrified beating of its little heart calmed under her fingers.
“Awake and fly!” she whispered to it, tossing it up into the clear blue sky. The bird fluttered uncertainly for a moment before it joined its fellows clamouring at the bowl.
“Well done!” said her husband Wolf, who was leaning against the top of the battlements smiling at her.
One would think after seven years of marriage she would feel more cynical towards him, but it still turned Jindabyne’s heart in her breast to see his blue eyes smiling. Every good thing in her life stemmed from this man. Ten years ago her memory had been destroyed by a mindblast spell and she had had to re-learn everything: reading, writing, magecraft, even how to tame to life spirit which was forever whispering in her mind. Wolf, the first person she could remember being kind to her, had cared for her during that time and brought the tutors who re-taught her the skills she had needed. She was certain that she had loved Wolf in that forgotten time before the mindblast, for she had loved him from the first moment she laid eyes on him.
“You’re up early,” she said, wishing she could find better words to express the strength of her feelings.
“I must ride out,” he said. He came to her side and put the back of his hand against her cheek. “You’re chilled, my love.”
“Only on the surface,” she said, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Why must you go out so early? Is there a problem?”
“No. No more than my brother arranging a hunting party this morning. That friend of his has just come out from Miraya and he wants him to see the countryside of Yarmar.”
To Jindabyne’s mind, hunting as the Mirayans did it, pursuing a living thing simply for the pleasure of chasing it, was an offence to the life spirit, but she was a good Mirayan wife and said nothing. Wolf already knew what she thought of hunting.
He continued, “I promise that whatever beast gives its life to us will be brought home for the pot so that its spirit will not be sacrificed for nothing.”
She smiled up at him. “Mind reader!”
He squeezed her. “I am filled with regret.”
“Why?”
“I’ll be out hunting instead of waiting in our bed for you to come back from your birds. I could warm you up in some ... more efficient way.”
“Mmm!” she said, nuzzling his neck. He was not much taller than her. “Perhaps there is time before you go.”
He laughed ruefully. “They are bringing out the horses already. Ah well. There is always tomorrow.”
There was a sadness about him.
“Is something amiss, my lord?”
“Nothing particularly. Last night Serge and Lev...”
“Another argument?”
“Why can’t Serge be more controlled? Not that I can truly blame him. Why does Lev find fault with everything about Yarmar? He cannot expect it to be like Miraya. Why did he come back here?”
“Why indeed?” echoed Jindabyne, who heartily disliked her brother-in-law, but for Wolf’s sake, tried to hide it. Lev had made his disapproval of her quite clear when she married Wolf seven years ago, and he had done nothing to heal the breech since he had come back from Miraya. Sometimes she wondered why Wolf, who was normally such a good judge of character, put up with this thorn tree in his flower garden. She sensed some past guilt toward Lev, but she did not like to inquire too closely into her husband’s life before their meeting. Before they had married he had told her that there had been a woman who had hurt him very deeply, making it difficult for him to love again. Yet at moments like this, she was certain that he had come to truly love her.
“Anyway Lev told me he will return to Miraya before the year is out.”
Thank life! thought Jindabyne. But aloud she said, “You regret it?”
“Yes and no. This is obviously no place for him. I just wish it could be different. He’s my only brother.”
“I understand,” said Jindabyne, squeezing him again.
“That’s them calling me. I suppose I must go.”
She caught his face in her hands and kissed him on the lips.
“Till tomorrow morning then,” she whispered, making him laugh with delight.
“Till this evening,” he countered, kissing her back. “I cannot possibly wait until tomorrow.” He let her go and turned away, before hesitating and turning back.
“Oh, and when Serge finally shows his face don’t go giving him healing. I know how kind hearted you are, but if he has to live with a hangover maybe he’ll learn not to get so drunk and ill-tempered.”
Serge was Jindabyne’s favourite among Wolf’s sons. The others were nice lads, but Serge had only been a child of eight when she had come to Lamartaine ten years ago. Since eight was still young enough for a boy to enter the women’s quarters unchaperoned, she knew him better than the other two. He and his sister, Sasha, who was now married and living far away on another island, had been her first friends apart from Wolf and had helped her learn Mirayan.
When later that day, she did encounter a very green-faced looking Serge in the courtyard, Jindabyne felt sorry for him and would have healed him against Wolf’s wishes. But Serge must have known of Wolf’s wishes because he refused her offer of healing and would not even take a simple herbal potion. He might be a feckless lad, but he had a sense of pride and he was not about to go behind his father’s back. Jindabyne left him to it and went back to her chores and the seemly endless preparations for Paulus’ wedding to Dianou Seagani.
Though Jindabyne still lodged in the women’s quarters, she no longer held to the stultifying seclusion typical of a well-bred Mirayan woman. She was not one after all. She was Tari, a native this island of Yarmar and revered by the other native tribes as a kind of holy person.
“Tari seek balance,” her tutor Ezratah Karanus had told her. The life spirit that surrounded