The Dragon's Tapestry

They flew north into the desert hills where few streams ran, and the predominant inhabitants were insects and ips. She thought of Opalwing waiting without socks on her antennae, able to fly, and she called out to her with her mind but without hope. She was not afraid of the wilderness, but the immortal hills could be harsh with those of the world who needed food and water to survive.

At some point Marwen fell asleep, for she awoke as she was pushed off the wingwand, still too groggy to steel herself against the fall. It was freshwind. Maug, Bero and Japthas loomed over her, silently, their eyes shifting. Marwen scrambled to sit up, but Maug pushed her back down with his foot and held her there, his weight on her chest. She could smell wingwand manure on his boots.

“You may be a witch, but you are also getting to be a woman,” he said, “though a scrawny homely one. I think she should grant us a wish, don’t you boys?”

Bero laughed, and he and Japthas punched each other. Mar­wen struggled to breathe against the weight of Maug’s foot, but she did not try to sit up. She felt a coldness in her throat and stomach, as though she had swallowed a large stone. She was still, her eyes locked on Maug’s eyes. They were as hard and shallow as mirrors, and in them she was tiny as an insect. He lift­ed his boot from her chest and toed her spidersilk further up her thigh.

She forgot her speech to the villagers about understanding. She reached into her apron pocket and drew Cudgham-ip out by the tail.

The boys staggered a few paces back, their eyes full of wonder and terror.

Marwen sat up, swallowing air.

“Aye, you should be afraid but not only of ip poison. For this, Maug, is Cudgham Seedmaker, my stepfather.” Marwen could not keep her voice from shaking. Even with all the magic in the world, she would be afraid of Maug who had another power, one she did not understand, a shrinking power. She watched their confidence crumble a little with only a slight less­ening of her fear. She crawled forward, shaking the ip at them.

“You hag!” Maug screamed as he and the others ran to their mounts. “I hope you die in these hills like you should have when you were born!”

She watched them fly away until they were mere blemishes on the cloud-stippled blue of the morning sky. 

Chapter Five

Believe in yourself, in love, in the good of others but, more importantly, believe in the magic, for in this there is power to obtain all other beliefs.

—Tenets of the Tapestry

Cold and hunger were hard upon her waking moments when Marwen emerged from a black sleep. She lay still for a time, cradled in the earth’s arm. Above her the roof of the little hollow in which she had found shelter was filled with bared roots dangling like exposed nerves. The hollow seemed to have been scraped by some bisor beast that wandered these round and rolling hills. Further out Marwen could see that the hills became more muscled, with overhanging rocks protruding from the crests like brows.

She stood up. On the gold-grassed slope above her was an oldman rock, well-bearded with moss, pocked and splotched with age. She picked up a pebble and placed it at the foot of the rock.

“Venerable one, have you any words of wisdom for me?”

She waited long in silence.

“You are slow to answer. You must be wise.” She placed another pebble at the base of the rock. “You see, grandfather rock, I am Marwen who knows not the name of her father and whose mother has twice died.” A picture of Grondil walking with the Taker filled her mind, and she forced the thought away. “I have no tapestry, and that is bad. It is the worst thing that can happen, and it also has happened two times.”

Marwen was quiet then, listening. The rock did not invite her to touch it, so she listened.

Presently she heard the whisper of rushing water. “I must lis­ten for the water,” she said quietly. “That is your answer.” The sound of running water was coming from far off, and after fol­lowing the sound for a time, she found a tiny stream pouring like a bit of white lace from a lip of rock. She drank deeply and then followed the stream down into a shallow ravine that eventually led to a stream of shoals and shallows, more rock than water.

Opalwing was there on the bank, drinking.