Contrarywise

Tonight's Queen slipped through the woods silently, her yellow boots muffled by pine needles that covered the path. She reached the glen, breathless. Nervous and excited about the sexual initiation to come, she pulled off her mask, wiping the sweat off her face. Then she heard the sound of a horse approaching. Rolling her eyes, Kelandris thought perhaps one of the village outsiders had misunderstood the ritual instructions and, seeing the Wasp Queen leave the crowd, had decided to follow her through the woods. Kelandris put her hands on her hips, prepared to redirect the intruder sternly. The sound of the approaching horse stopped. Kelandris listened intently for a moment. Nothing. Deciding that the rider must have returned to the main trail, Kelandris pulled out a tortoise shell comb and feathered her long blue-black hair away from her high cheekbones and wide brow. It was a self-conscious gesture, purely adolescent. Kelandris stopped her primping, listening to the steady drone of drums in the distance. She glanced at the lone torch near her feet. It cast moving shadows on the trees. Kelandris swallowed. Sitting in the comparative dark as she was, Kelandris suddenly felt edgy about her lover-to-be. What if Trickster picked a real loser, she thought uneasily. Or worse—what if Trickster went for out-and-out deviance, selecting one of her brothers to be her mate? Kel put her comb away and got to her feet. She began to pace. What if Trickster picked Yonneth? After that incident in the blizzard last year, she thought uncomfortably, she wouldn't want Yonneth to even think about bedding her—much actually do it. She reviewed the incident with distaste. Eight months ago, their mother had sent Kel and Yonneth to fetch more firewood for winter. On their way home, they were overtaken by a snowstorm. Scrambling for their lives, Kelandris had directed their team of horses to an old shepherd's shack in the area. Yonneth and she found it without mishap. Entering the hut, Kelandris immediately began cleaning the ashes out of the fireplace. Yonneth went for a supply of wood in the back of their wagon. Making sure the horses were secure and protected from the storm, he returned to the hut, his mood lousy, his Jinnjirri hair gray-blue. Kelandris smiled at his ill-humor. She had two other brothers—Garr and Tommo—both of them Tammirring born. Kelandris felt closer in spirit to her Jinnjirri brother, however. Her mother said it was because they were both adopted. Kel knew better. Yonneth—'her Yonneth» as she affectionately called him—was special. He was different. He was smart. He was also an artist. Talent like Yonneth's set him apart from the Suxonli community. Kelandris identified with his isolation. She felt truly kindred with Yonneth. His loneliness was hers. So she thought. Making a fire now, Kelandris watched Yonneth play idly with some twigs of kindling, making stick houses and crushing them softly under his fist. Kelandris, who had a good sense of humor in those days, chuckled. «Oh, come on, Yonn,» she said gaily, «it's not so bad up here. I've food in my pack, and there's blankets in the cupboard. We'll be warm and cozy in no time.» She grinned. «Buck up, sweetie. We're having an adventure.» «I don't want an adventure,» snapped Yonneth, his Jinnjirri hair streaking with a vexed shade of red. «Well,» said Kelandris with a sigh, «can't be helped, brother mine. Nature does these things sometimes. Rimble-Rimble.» Yonneth scowled at his older sister. «Don't let's start on him, okay? It's bad enough being stuck in a blizzard, much less have to talk about him.» Kelandris rolled her eyes. «Presence alive, Yonneth—are you still sore about me being Queen at next Hallows? I mean, it's not like you were excluded from the Coin Toss on purpose. Suxonli law is very clear, Yonn: only Tammirring maidens can play the Queen.» «It's a stupid law,» he muttered, his Jinnjirri body changing gender as he spoke. Yonneth now resembled a skinny fifteen-year-old girl. Kelandris shrugged, her good humor starting to ebb. «It's an ancient law,» she corrected. «Look—there's nothing you can do about it. We Tammi are the natural mystics, and you Jinn are the natural artists.» Yonneth crossed her arms over her chest. «Trickster's got to be crazy to have you dance for him. You're as lawful as a Saambolin.» «What's that supposed to mean?» Kel demanded angrily. «It means, sister dear, that you haven't got a deviant bone in your whole frigging body!» Yonn glared at Kel, then changed back to being male. «I do, too!» Yonneth smiled at Kel derisively. «Yeah? Then how come you refuse to carry the holovespa in your Queen's dildo? Every Wasp Queen for the past nine years has given out the remedy. Every Queen. The village is up for a good time, Kel. Looks to me like you plan to spoil it!» Kelandris opened her travelling pack and pulled out a wad of beef jerky. «We don't need holovespa to soar,» she said quietly. «You watch—I'll make you high without it. You just watch me dance—» Yonneth made a rude noise with his lips. Taking a piece of jerky, he bit into it angrily. «Kel—I hate to tell you this, but you're nothing special. And when you dance, nothing's going to happen. Maybe we'll get a little dizzy. That's all.» He bit off another mouthful of jerky. «Face it, Kel—the ritual's dead. And holovespa puts life back into it.» Kel's green eyes glittered with frustration. «You don't know what you're talking about!» «Oh, and I suppose you do?» Kel's eyes filled with tears. She was certain Yonneth was in error, but she couldn't explain how she knew it. It was a gut feeling, deep and implacable. «Shit,» she muttered. «Well, that's an improvement. Obscenity becomes you,» he added, fluttering his eyes at her. «Rimble-Rimble.» Kelandris bit her lower lip, feeling angrier and angrier. Finally, she asked, «Just what is it you need to feel at the hallows, Yonn?» «Decadent. Sexy. Overwhelmed by Trickster.» Kelandris frowned. «Overwhelmed? In what way?» Yonneth stretched out in front of the fire, lying only a few inches from Kelandris. «I want to be entered by Trickster completely. I want to be forced to surrender. To submit.» Kelandris regarded her brother uneasily. This was a side to Yonneth she had never seen. And she wasn't sure she liked it. Kel swallowed. «You sound like you want to be raped. Is that what you think the Divine does?» Yonneth shrugged, his hand touching Kel's knee. «Might be fun for starters—» Kelandris got to her feet instantly, every Greatkin sensibility in her outraged. «What's the matter with you, Yonneth? Where's your heart—?» Yonneth started laughing. Wagging a finger at Kel, he said, «See? What did I tell you? No deviance.» He shrugged at his sister. «So you don't like rape. How about incest? Besides,» he said standing up and patting the bulge in his trousers, «I'm not your blood brother. So there's no harm.» Kelandris backed up, picking up her travelling pack. She couldn't believe Yonneth was acting like this. «You goddamn stay away from me! You hear?» The Jinnjirri continued to taunt her. «Who knows, Kel—maybe Trickster will pick me for your lover at the Hallows. I mean—Rimble-Rimble, right? And there wouldn't be a thing you could do about it, either. Unless you plan on breaking some of your precious Suxonli laws.» «Shut up, Yonneth!» Kel yelled at him. As she spoke, she thrust her hand deep in the front pocket of her travelling pack. Her fingers closed on the knife hilt she found there. One more step, she thought. Tears brimmed in her eyes. One more step— Yonneth laughed at Kel's discomfort. Apparently losing interest, he went to fetch a blanket from the cupboard. Kelandris watched him with hooded eyes, her hand still gripping the hidden knife. But Yonneth never made another sexual reference that night. Or at any other time. In fact, Yonneth had brought up the subject and dropped it so quickly that Kelandris had since wondered if maybe she had imagined the whole thing. Perhaps misinterpreted Yonneth's motivation? After all, brothers were brothers, and even Garr and Tommo had teased her on more than one occasion until she had cried. Kelandris played idly with the strings of her Revel Queen mask, continuing to listen to the drumming in the distance. Her shoulders sagged briefly. With all her heart, she wished Yonneth had not said those things about Trickster maybe choosing him to be her consort for the night. The thought made her feel physically ill. Kelandris fingered the small throwing knife she had tucked in the bra of her harlequin costume. She hoped it wouldn't come to this. She fervently hoped not. She stopped pacing, trying to calm herself. Telling herself that her present mood was neither inviting nor loving, Kelandris forced herself to think pleasant thoughts about Trickster. She failed miserably. Kelandris swore at herself and then at Yonneth. Kicking at a stone—and stubbing her toe—Kelandris knelt on the ground and began to cry. Wishing that she were anywhere other than where she was, Kel begged Rimble not to send Yonneth to her tonight. Wiping her eyes jerkily, she whispered, «Let me be the Revel Queen. If you send me someone horrible, I'll never trust you again, Rimble. Never.» Kelandris blinked back more tears. Suddenly realizing just how damaging Yonneth's idle comments had really been, Kelandris panicked. What if Trickster took offense at her distrust of him? What if Greatkin Rimble was testing the heart of his Revel Queen. Kel put her hand over her mouth, utterly ashamed. She bowed her head. Taking several deep breaths, Kelandris raised her hands slowly in honest supplication to the Presence, the One who directed Rimble. Lifting her tear-streaked face, she shut her eyes and whispered a prayer she had written only that afternoon. It was at this moment that Zendrak stepped silently into the clearing. Unaware of his presence, Kel opened her hands like petals of a flower, her voice low and intimate. She sounded as though she were speaking to her oldest and dearest friend: No major miracles please, Unless you want to tease me. Walk with me, Walk in me. Let my body be your road, your carriage. Let my womb be yours, Filled with the wonder of your unknown. Hold my heart close to your own Let it beat in time to your divine noise, So that your sound may. Like a tuning fork—hummm And send me deeper into your embrace. Breathe me. Let me be lost in you, So that I may truly be found. And let me praise you like a moon-eyed calf, Drunk on night silver and gambolling joy. Silly. Let me be silly in your presence, So that you might laugh And in so doing, teach me your best jokes. And when I die, Kiss me passionately, So that I might wake in death And see your radiant face. Kelandris opened her eyes, feeling queerly comforted. She got slowly to her feet. Hearing the rustle of clothing behind her, she turned around. A tall man in green stood in front of her. He gazed at her in silence, his expression thoughtful. Heart pounding, Kel took in every detail of his arresting face. Blue-black hair that brushed back like raven wings, high cheekbones, and olive skin. Full lips. A nose that was hooked— like a great bird's beak. The man's dark eyes