“Now I know, from that third party, that thou art much the way my husband was. A man of great honor and skill, yet one who has suffered abuse because of size. Neysa, too, has told me of thy qualities.”
“Neysa talks too much,” Stile muttered. It was a joke; the unicorn was a marvel of brevity.
“Thou art a good man, and I wrong thee by mine aloofness. Yet must I am the way I am. I feel it only fair to acquaint thee with the way I was.”
“I do not seek to force information from thee. Lady,” Stile said quickly. But he really wanted to hear anything she wanted to tell him.
“Then it comes to thee unforced,” she said, with a fleeting smile that melted his heart. Could she, could she really be starting to soften toward him? No, she was not; she was merely doing what she felt was right, giving him necessary background.
Stile listened to her narration, closing his eyes, absorbing her dulcet tones, picturing her story in full living color and feeling as it unfolded.
Long and long has our realm of Phaze endured apart from other worlds, from that time when first it separated from the science frame of mythology. Three hundred years, while our kind slowly spread across the continent and discovered the powers that existed. The animal kingdoms too expanded and warred with each other and found their niches, the dragons to the south, the snow demons to the north, the giants to the far west and so on.
Soon the most talented among the Human Folk became adept at magic, restricting others from its practice except in specialized ways, so that no more than ten full magicians existed at any one time. Only talent distinguished them, not honor or personal merit, and any who aspired to Adept status but was less apt at sorcery than the masters were destroyed by the established magicians.
Today the common folk eschew all save elementary enchantments, and associate not with Adepts; likewise the animals keep largely to themselves. I grew up in a village of fifteen families to the east, near the coast, far removed from strong magic except the natural spells of the deepwoods. I thought I might marry a local boy, but my folks wanted me to wait, to meet a wider range before deciding. I realized not their reason, then; they knew me to be fair, and thought I might waste myself on some farmer’s boy or fisherman if I chose quickly. Had they known whom I was destined to marry, they would have thrown me at the nearest pigherder! But they knew not that an Adept sought me, and we were well off, with good fields and animals, so that there seemed no need to go early into matrimony. My father is something of a healer, whether by nature or effort I know not, and I am too. We helped the ill or injured animals of the village, never making show of our talent, and never did the dire attention of a hostile Adept focus on us for that.
When I was nineteen the lads and lasses of mine age had already mostly been taken. But I loved the animals, and felt no loss. It has been said that the women most attractive to men are the ones who need them least, and so it seemed to be in my case. Then my horse’s foal wandered too far afield, returning not to our stable. I called her Snowflake, for her color was white as snow though her spirit was hot as peppercorn. Ever was she wont to take that extra step, and this time she was lost. I rode out on my good mare Starshine, Snowflake’s dam, searching, searching, but the prints we followed led into the deepwoods. Then I knew in my heart that Snowflake was truly in trouble, but I was nineteen and I loved that foal, and I went into that jungle though I knew it was folly. And in that wood I came upon moss that shrouded whole trees and reached out for me, all green and hissing, and sand that sucked at my horse’s feet, and there were shapes and shadows looming ever-near and nearer, and I was afraid.
Then did I know I must turn back, that Snowflake was doomed, and I would be in dire strait too an I not give over this hopeless task presently. But still I adored my foal, as I adore all horses, and the thought of Snowflake alone and in straits in that wilderness tormented me, and I made pretexts one after another to quest beyond yet another tree or yet another looming rock. I thought I heard a tremulous neigh; gladly I dismounted and ran, but there was nothing, only a branch creaking in the rising wind.
A storm was coming, and that meant mischief, for in our region the trolls come out in foul weather, yet I dallied foolishly afoot. This time I was sure I heard a plaintive neigh. I pursued it, but again found naught; it was a will-o’-the-wisp.
