Riley had never seen Cora in trousers before. They suited her.
Cora kept slipping behind a divider in the room and returning with a different pair and a different leather jerkin. Her hair was up in a tight bun.
Lissie sprawled out next to Riley, but the bed was so big she might as well have been in another room.
“I really think you should have accepted the sword,” Lissie said, not for the first time.
Riley lifted the hickory blade and swished it in the air, “I have a sword.”
“No!” Cora was turning this way and that, trying to look at every side of herself. “You have a stick.”
“Don’t let Alexander hear you say that.” Riley cut the air again. The swish did sound like a sword, but then again, so would a stick.
“I don’t think he can hear anything,” Lissie said and laughed, sitting up and folding her legs under herself. “My ears are still ringing. I would have died of embarrassment.”
“I wish I could take credit for the idea to drop a chandelier, but I saw Mother do it once when the King was visiting.” Cora slipped back behind the divider again.
“The King! I don’t believe you!” Riley said.
“It happened,” Cora said from behind the divider. “When I was maybe five or six. The old king was trying to do something my mother didn’t like. I think he was trying to get her to marry some general.”
Riley turned to Lissie and the two girls burst into giggles. Cora returned from behind the divider, this time wearing a comfortable silk shift. “She acts like such a wilting flower but when you try to get her attention it’s like trying to turn a storm.”
“You sure turned that storm!” Lissie exclaimed, and Riley laughed with her friends.
They composed themselves, and Riley asked, “Lissie, what are the Plains like? I mean, I know the stuff my father told me, but he’s so stoic. He’ll say one word and the story’s over.”
Lissie took a breath and looked serious. “I can tell you the way my grandmother told me. It’s all I know too.”
Riley and Cora slid themselves up the monumental bed and the three girls sat cross-legged in a circle. Riley reached out and pulled a cord. The soft light of the oil torches dimmed on the other side of the peach curtains.
Lissie breathed deeply through her nose, and started. This time when she spoke, Riley echoed the words under her breath, and felt herself drawn away from quiet safety into a dusty, bright place.
“The wind is high
She knows, she knows
The sun is death
He sees, he sees
The earth is still
She bears, she bears
Praise to the wind
We sing, we sing
Nothing to the sun
We run, we run
Water to the earth
We bleed, we bleed
The Sea to the Salt,
We ride, we beg
The Peak to the Bog,
Our home is our heart
Soft sands for you riders
Easy quarries in the morn
Black ice for the blade
Hard bone for the handle
One and one thousand
Make thunder on land
Weep for the lost child
Weep for the lost rider
Dodge goring horn
Stab from below
Respect the blood
Know it is your own
Walk beside the elder
Her Story is your own
Women of the Dust
Ride on the Wind”
Riley stared at Lissie’s bowed head and waited for more. Nothing else followed until Lissie said, “She explained every line of that to me, translating what she could. So that I would know where I came from.” Lissie raised her head. “Where I’m going.”
Cora fidgeted. “Well, what does it mean?”
Lissie’s eyes turned to Cora, “Most of it is obvious, I think. The west has the sea, and the east has the salt flats. The north has the mountains, and the south has the Broken Swamps. The black ice is a special rock that they gather. They use it for everything.”
Riley asked, “Is it magical? My father said his soldiers told him it was. He didn’t believe them.”
Cora answered for Lissie, “I doubt it, the only magic left is dying in the far north.”
Lissie smiled and said, “I don’t think it’s magical. It is special, though.” She frowned and continued, “The part with thunder is just about horses. The verse about weeping for the child and rider is about a ceremony. Everyone goes through this ceremony at twelve…”
Riley reached out for her friend’s hand. “What’s the ceremony, is it like a duel?”
“It’s described in the next lines. Weep for the lost child is about a duel or some sort of fight. Weep for the lost rider is a horseback riding challenge. Dodge goring horn, stab from below.” Lissie trailed off there and stared down at her hands. “They have to fight a big furry beast, like an angry bull. It lives out on the Plains, but I’ve never seen one. I’ve never fought anyone, let alone a bull. I can barely stay on Peach’s back.”
Cora wrapped her arms around Lissie. “You grew up with us.”
Lissie whispered, “I know that. I’m glad for the life I have. I just feel like I’m missing something. Sometimes. Now we are going straight into all these stories. I never thought—I never even dared to hope.”
Riley fought to remember the last lines, “What does the rest mean? With the elder?”
“My grandmother said that the elders were revered. Not made to scrub pots,” Lissie said.
“And the women of the dust? They were in the other story. Isn’t that who we are looking for?” Riley continued.
Lissie looked straight into her eyes. “They are revered above all others.”