Eyes dancing with delight, she swayed to and fro. If ears could twitch and sing, hers surely would have at this moment. Brazie had plopped herself as near as she could to the music makers. Elbows propping up her torso, she didn't flinch when people stepped through her.
Bectie spared her a glance now and then, sometime censorious and other times indulgent. She also was rapt in a story that Talut was finishing.
Wrapped in the smell of pungent hearth fires and the basic smell of life, a surge on longing came over Thonolan. How often had his mother presided over such a night? The comfort of friendly faces, a full belly and a night of fun was almost the same here as it was at home. He half smiled to himself. Ok, so maybe he didn't have a full belly, but he could imagine one. Maybe all the faces were not friendly to him, but they were familiar. A piercing cry startled him out of his musings.
Barzec had begun the singing.
Brazie's eyes widened even more in delight. The sounds swirled to her and came over and through in a gust of pleasure. If she closed her eyes, perhaps she'd feel as if she had ascended.
As Fralie began to sing, Thonolan caught a look of pleased surprise on Bectie's face. "She remembers, after all," she murmured. The melodic words flung in the air seemed to create a picture, one of an unlucky woman. Fading into the smoke, they seemed to touch Crozie's tear streaked face.
"My daughter," Bectie said softly. She reached out her strong boned hand and stroked the woman's hair. Crozie looked around at the touch. Seeing nothing, she fixed her attention on the music once more. Bectie turned her misty gaze to Thonolan as she shrugged slightly. "Life has not been easy for her, or her family. I would wish to speak to her and impart words that would soothe, but can only watch."
They sat without speaking, letting the combined voices of singing wash over them. "The Mother," she continued, "she tests us. To see if we are worthy of her gifts. I fear that my daughter is not, and that in turn, I am not." Her voice took on a faraway tone and Thonolan realized she was no longer speaking to him.
"What makes a person worthy of the Mother's attention?" Bectie continued speaking, almost unaware that Thonolan was listening. "Surely it is not beauty or knowledge. For we both have shared in those gifts."
Thonolan smiled wryly. "Surely not those things."
Bectie smiled at him and was roused from her solitary musings. She nodded at the younger veejia. "Ayla now, she is highly favored. I think the Mother gives her gifts when she uses them for the Mother's purpose. She has lived a hard life, yet she is stronger for it, and perhaps that is what the Mother wishes for us all. To go stronger in life with the tests that she sets for us."
Thonolan gave a harsh laugh. If that was indeed true, then he had failed the Mother's tests. Bectie seemed to have read his mind and spoke softly to him.
"It's the harder tests that confuse us. Instead of thanking the Mother for giving us a chance to grow stronger and more gifted, many of us get mad at her." She paused and looked down ruefully at herself. "I may think myself wise, yet my thoughts are as important as smoke in comparison to the thoughts of the Mother." Her voice trailed off, as the music became more rhyme.
Thonolan felt as if he had seen inside a tough exterior of a walnut. A rare gift; to be granted with a vision of the sweet fruit inside that made up the existence of a being. The music increased in tempo and many began dancing. Yet he felt detached, viewing them as though from a distant cave. They were there, alive and content. If he wanted, he could touch them. But to touch them would break the spell of an enchanted moment.
(TMH pp. 175-177)