Drift: River of Falcons Book 1

Seeds

The wagon bumped over an especially deep rut. Bellis snorted and shook her head, rattling the reins, and Summer woke from her nap.

"Grandma? I wanted to tell you about something that happened last night on the way to get the sorrel."

"You didn't run into any sorcerers, I hope?"

"I don't think so. Can sorcerers turn into tortoises?"

Summer stared at Drift. "How big was this tortoise?"

Drift held her hands as far apart as she could. "Big," she said.

"Did it speak?" Summer asked.

Drift nodded. "He talked about being my guide, and he knew my name."

"Your guide? Goodness! I've read you some of the old stories, but perhaps not that one. They say the First Princess had a mentor who... Well, this may not be the best time for a history lesson. I... I think we need to consult the Spirits. That meadow up ahead is probably full of them."

"What were you saying about the First Princess?"

"Here, allow me," Summer said, taking the reins and pulling them firmly. "There, there," she soothed as the reindeer came to a reluctant stop.

"And I also need to talk to you about that goose."

"A tortoise," Summer said, "suggests that you are attracting considerable attention. We need to ask the Spirits for their guidance." She climbed down and held a hand out for Drift.

Drift held back. "Was he a sorcerer?"

Summer shook her head. "There were mages in the old days who were far wiser and more powerful than our sorcerers. But the mages are supposed to have died out long ago. What did he tell you?"

"To be patient, and he said time was like a river. Then he just disappeared."

"Hmm," Summer said.

"What?"

"It seems that my efforts to keep you out of sight are failing. Do you have any idea why you would suddenly begin to attract so much attention?"

"No idea." Drift hoped there was no connection between the vulture that had hunted her, the warning from the apprentice, and this tortoise, whoever he was. Anyway, these weren't things she wished to share with Summer, who would certainly not approve of her recent wanderings.

"Well, be that as it may," Summer said, eyeing Drift, "I think it would be prudent to ask the Silvani to keep a special eye on you on our trip. Come."

"Keep an eye on me? How?"

"However they wish. One doesn't tell the Spirits what to do, my dear."

Summer began to walk into the meadow, and Drift jumped down and followed her. "I thought we were in a hurry," she objected.

"We are in a careful hurry. Ah, this should do nicely," Summer announced, looking around at the long grass and clusters of wildflowers. Smiling, she closed her eyes and began to chant.

Summer's chant was answered by a high, sweet voice. More voices joined in. Thin and distant at first, the voices grew louder as a cloud of butterflies rose from the wildflowers. Drift spotted buttery yellow ones, blue and white ones, red and black ones, and here and there, a large yellow-and-black-striped swallowtail. She knew all of their names, and began to speak them to herself, but stopped abruptly as a large white falcon sped across the sky. She had seen white falcons before, but only in dreams.

The butterflies scattered, then they circled around the meadow and came back to where Drift and Summer stood. In the tumble of Spirit-song around her, Drift heard the phrase, Accipiet dona (pronounced ak-sip-ee-et doe-nah), meaning, she translated, to accept their gifts. Holding her hands out, she watched as butterflies swooped by, each one dropping something when it passed over her. Their gifts were shiny black seeds.

The butterflies fluttered away, leaving the meadow empty except for the lazy buzz of a bumble bee.

Summer stopped chanting and opened her eyes.

"Did you see that!" Drift asked, rather breathlessly.

"No. What happened?"

"The Spirits gave me these."

Summer picked a few of the seeds up, examined them, and let them fall back into Drift's hands. "Were there many butterflies?" she asked.

"Lots. You must have heard them singing along with you, right? I'm sorry I doubted you in the past, Grandma. The Spirits definitely responded. Wow."

"I didn't hear anything. How odd." Summer looked worried.

"Is something wrong?" Drift asked.

"I was in a deeper trance than usual. I don't even remember what I was singing about." She eyed Drift. "This time, the Spirits came to you, not me. This confirms all my theories about you, my dear."

Drift rolled her eyes. "I think I'd know if I was a princess."

"None of us really know what we are capable of becoming." Summer paused to watch a crow fly overhead. As it passed by, a black feather spiraled down and landed near them. "Oh my," she added. "That's a troubling sign, especially so soon after connecting with the Silvani."

"It's the spring molt. It lost a wing feather. It'll grow a new one." Drift shrugged.

"It's definitely a warning. This is not a good day to go to town." Summer shook her head as she walked toward the wagon.

"Children are sick. We shouldn't turn around just because a crow dropped a feather."

"Yes, but there are other influences at work than the Silvani, and other eyes watching us. We had best be very careful."

"Do the Spirits want us to give these seeds to the children?"

"Definitely not. They're from the Convolvulus vine. A strange gift, since they're so full of magic that if goats or sheep eat too many, they go mad and run until they die of exhaustion. I weed the plant out of our fields. A pity, though, because Convovulus produces graceful vines and lovely blue flowers. Its common name is bind-weed, for the way it tangles and binds any posts or gates it climbs."

"Oh, right. You had me copy a drawing of it from a botany book. And don't you grow it by the porch?"

"A few plants, just to brighten the doorway." Summer frowned. "I wish I had taught you more, my dear. A great deal more. If you are in danger today, I'm going to ask you to run into the forest. If I tell you to run, don't hesitate. Promise?"

"I'll say yes if it'll keep you from worrying." Drift gave Summer a reassuring smile as she climbed into the wagon. "Let me drive, we'll get there faster."

"All right," Summer said. "But if anything strange happens, wake me at once."

"You're going to nap again?" Drift asked.

"I certainly am. If this fever's spreading, I'll need my strength. Wake me when we reach the mill."

"But I have a lot of questions," Drift objected. "You know how to change into a goose, don't you?"

"We're all changing, each and every day," Summer mumbled, her eyes already closed. "It's the nature of life."

"But how do you shift?" Drift insisted.

There was no answer. Summer's head had fallen forward and she was snoring gently.