Conversations with Amasa

"So, where do you want to go to talk ?".

Lowered eyelashes, she draws a pattern in the loose clay soil with her sandaled foot.

"Down by the river. What do you want to know ?"

"I want to ask you a few questions about your family, how you grew up, that sort of thing. I like knowing what makes people, people."

I smile and try to read her face, but her expression is impassive save for a slight wrinkling of the nose. What is she really thinking ?

It takes us several minutes to make our way to her preferred spot on the riverside from the small clearing where we now stand. First we push our way through the man-height bamboo-like reeds that crowd the riverbank; ever fed by the swelling greenish-brown surge beyond, they stand like a proud army of sentries, eternally on guard. Swayed by the wind, but never bent.

There is a cacophony of snaps and crackles as we beat back the crowding reeds from the narrow path leading to a small jetty on the bank where Amasa has moored her craft. I follow her, and my eyes drift unbidden to her hips. She moves like a forest animal attuned to the uneven forest floor, long unhurried strides with each foot planted sure. Her muscled - yet oh so feminine - rear gives way to long, strong thighs shown to good advantage in a short skirt of dazzlingly white raw linen.

"I feel it will rain today. My arm hurts where I broke my wrist last year, and it always does that when it's going to rain."

She doesn't respond. Had I said something to upset her ? I search my memory for an offending incident as a particularly nuisancesome reed resists my attempt to move it out of the way and promptly recoils, smacking me in the eyelid.

"Are you okay ?"

She turns to rush back to where I stand on the path, gripping my smarting eye.

"Yes. It's nothing."

"Are you sure ? Let me see it."

Embarassed by the yelp that must have drawn her attention, I lower my hands and steel my face to show no trace of reaction to the pain. Is she secretly smirking ? Her expression has definitely changed. No, it's more playful than a smirk - now it's gone. She's back on the path, forging ahead. I hurry to keep up.

We emerge, finally, onto the worn planks of the jetty. Without stopping, she walks directly to the edge of the jetty, stooping her upper body before vaulting off the edge into the canoe [ed.: replace with actual name of craft] bobbing placidly (I would say contentedly, if it were an animal) in the river. She sits and her long legs seem to glow in the dying sunlight as if she were a jewel lit from within.

"Where is Kyle ?"

"At the jyoro - teaching the younger ones."

"He is jyor-kai now ?" The surprise must register clearly on my face because she is studying me now. I briefly see the return of that smirk but it is gone before I can capture it in my mind's eye.

Kyle is jyor-kai, his progress far faster than even I - his CREATOR ! - could have foreseen. Perhaps creator is too strong a word, as I have begun to realize that Kyle, Amasa, Yrunn, and all else of which I write have existed before, outside of my consciousness. Maybe 'interpreter' or 'biographer' might be a more appropriate term ?

I'm momentarily frustrated without knowing exactly why.

"So, will you tell me about your father now ?"

A moment passes before her gaze leaves the opposite bank and returns to mine. "Father was good to us. After mama died he could have sent us directly to Ithxcae, as we were of age to serve and were bound to go in one year, regardless. But he spent that year with us, teaching us more of the arts. Well, he taught Kyle, anyway."

"He never taught you ?"

She shrugs. "Sometimes he would spend time with me on questions of technique in unarmed combat. Not many men in the village would spar with a woman and - "

"Especially if she were to threaten to prove their betters !" I interrupt.

" - exactly. But he never instructed me in... magic."

"Why do I think that was so ?"

"Well, I am a girl, am I not ?" Her eyes flash and it has little to do with the reflected rays of a sinking sun.

"What matter, if better than your brother ? There is an all-female battalion in Ithxcae, as there are many female magi, and I'm sure your father knew that."

"He just wouldn't. How do I know why ? Maybe after mama died I reminded him too much of her, so he spent less time with me."

"Did he love you ?"





(continue...)