If I Were a Herald
Chapter 8
Let It Snow
Here is a Christmas present from me to you (because I happen to celebrate Christmas). Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah, Happy Midwinter, Io Saturnalia. Have a nice Kwanza if you happen to celebrate that holiday. I don't even know when half of those holidays are, but have a good time anyway. And share in the goodness of my sparkling cider, because I'm not allowed to drink alcohol now that I'm home.
Disclaimer: I don't own Christmas. Except on Velgarth, since Herald Kali is the only one who celebrates it there.
A/N (12/5/05): This wasn't in the original version, but I wanted to put in a Sovvan festival, and me celebrating Christmas during Midwinter, and I wanted it to be the first year I was there. Because that's the time when I would record it. It's not actually necessary to the plot, just something I wanted to include.
A/N (12/24/05): Just a bit of Christmas trivia. Did you know that in one of the crusades, the body of Saint Nicholas was moved from Myra to Bari? He had to be "rescued" from Myra after it was taken over by the infidels. Since no disaster visited the people who did the moving, others took it as a sign that the saint had wanted his remains to be moved, so that he would be among good Christian folk. As far as I know, he's still in Bari. So if you want to visit Santa Clause, go to Italy.
A/N (12/24/05): The "Let It Snow" commentary is courtesy of myself and my sister, on our way to a friend's house earlier today.
A/N (12/24/05): The other day my brother and I were drinking sparkling cider (see above), and as I drank, I pretended to get drunk. In fact, I pretended so well that my brother was convinced that I was psychologically drunk. (Our dad's a psychologist, so we know all about mind-over-matter stuff, and how the mind can convince the body it has a disease.)
Jay: Get on im so I can bug you to read my story. Hugs and kisses.
Oh, the weather outside is frightful,
But the fire is so delightful,
And since we've no place to go,
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!
It shows no signs of stopping,
And I've brought some corn for popping.
The lights are turned way down low;
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!
When we finally kiss good-night,
How I'll hate going out in the storm,
But if you really hold me tight,
All the way home I'll be warm.
The fire is slowly dying,
And my dear, we're still good-byeing,
But as long as you love me so,
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!
One, two, three, four—
"Ung." Jorjie rolled over and glared at me. "What the hell are you doing up at this ungodly hour?"
She had a point. The sun wasn't even over the horizon yet, and here I was, doing push-ups. But it helped strengthen my back. I had scoliosis—curvature of the spine—and there was this one point behind my right shoulder that always hurt. Push-ups were one of the exercises suggested by my therapist to strengthen the muscles in that area. I explained all this to Jorjie, not really expecting her to understand, but needing to try anyway.
"Oh," she said when I'd finished. "Why don't you get one of the Healers to fix it?"
I hadn't thought of that. But wait—if the Healers could fix it, why hadn't Lyrna suggested that?
:They can't: Lyrna told me. :It would involve moving the bone around, not just knitting things up.:
"Lyrna says it can't be done. She says the Healers can knit bones and skin back together, but can't move things around inside you."
"What about using Fetching?"
:That wouldn't work, because the person wouldn't be able to see what they were working with.:
I relayed the information to Jorjie.
"So what if you found a Healer with the Fetching Gift?"
"Lyrna?"
Lyrna thought it over. :That could actually work. Well, what are you waiting for? Get your butt in gear! I'm no more fond of the pain in your back than you are.:
"Urg." I stayed where I was, sprawled face-down on the floor, where I'd collapsed when Jorjie interrupted my physical training session. "Alright, alright. I'm getting up."
There were always Healers awake in the Healers' Wing of the palace, just in case one of the patients needed something in the middle of the night. One of them intercepted me. "Heyla."
"Uh, hi. I'm here to be a—a test-subject, actually. I've got scoliosis—um, a bent spine—and Lyrna says you don't know how to cure that, but I've got an idea. Actually, it's not mine, it's my friend Jorjie's. Are there any Healers with the Fetching Gift?"
"Yes, in fact. Healer Drevan has the Fetching Gift. Why?"
"Could you take me to him? Jorjie's idea is that if he uses his Fetching Gift on my spine, he'll be able so straighten it. Since he's a Healer, he knows where everything should go. I'm willing to be a guinea pig. I figure it's worth the risk if it gets rid of this never-ending pain."
So we tracked down Healer Drevan. He'd never before thought of using his Healing and Fetching Gifts in unison, but said that it made good sense, and could be a great help against all sorts of maladies. Plus he Healed my scoliosis.
Ah! I thought, stretching my shoulders. No pain. A miracle has occurred. "Thank you so much. I do believe I'd forgotten what it was like to live without pain."
He smiled. "You're welcome. You know, you helped us more than we helped you. We owe you."
"Not that I'm complaining, I'd love some sort of reward, but really, you should be thanking Jorjie. This was her idea."
Two nights from now was Sovvan festival. The night when the veil between worlds was weakest. The night when magic was most likely to work.
Ha. Maybe I should have made the Gate on Halloween. Then it might actually have worked properly. And I wouldn't have ended up in Valdemar. But then I wouldn't have found Lyrna. And I'd still be suffering from scoliosis. But—
I miss my parents. And my cats. I miss my kitties! Maxx must be devastated without me. No one else understands him. They're not willing to take the time to get to know him. Poor Maxx. Maxx was such a sweet kitty. He was a Manx who had been feral until the vet took him in, then fobbed him off on my mom. Because of that, he was very mistrustful of people. Except for me. With undaunted patience, I'd taught him that my room was sanctuary, and no harm would come to him while he was there. Gradually he had come to trust me. He even followed me around like Shadow had done, before he got sick and died.
I could always try to Gate back on Sovvan night. Just to say hello to my family and assure them that I was alright. They must be worried sick about me. Yes, I'd do that. When the veil between worlds was thinnest. When magic was most likely to reach from Velgarth to Earth.
Today was a Sunday; no classes. Except for weapons training, and that was only for true devotees. Like myself. No classes tomorrow, either, in celebration of the harvest festival.
I had at least gotten to the point that I could handle a sharp sword without cutting off my own feet. Actually, I was usually clumsier without a sword than with one. There were plenty of swords in the armory with better balance than the one I'd brought with me, but I preferred my old sword for sentimental reasons. I was more used to its balance. It wasn't the only blade I used in training; I did recognize the need to know how to use swords with all sorts of different balance.
Practice was in the salle, for which I was very grateful. The weather had turned cold, very cold. Clouds covered the sky, and it smelled like we'd have some type of precipitation before the day was out. The salle was at least partially insulated. More importantly, it was protected from the chill wind. And from the snow that was sure to fall later today. It was too damn cold for rain—a mixed blessing. It was as cold as the Shin'a'in hell, but at least it wouldn't be raining ice-cold droplets that would freeze me to the bones. That is, if I wasn't already numb with cold.
My arms ached desperately by the time Weaponsmaster Eduard declared practice over for the day. At least I'd lasted through the entire practice. Two weeks ago I would've collapsed before it was half over. There was nothing like daily exercise to get a body in shape.
Uck. I think I'm going to collapse anyway. Lyrna? You anywhere nearby? I didn't quite have the strength to use actual Mindspeech, but I figured she'd be listening to my thoughts, as always.
:I'm here, love. Feel free to collapse. You really don't have to push yourself this hard.:
Sure I do. I collapsed against her flank. At least I was warm now—but not for long, unless I got inside, somewhere with a fire. The sweat on my skin whisked the heat away faster than my body could replenish it. I'm gonna be a damn hero someday. Gotta be prepared, right? You shoulda seen me with the throwing knives. I'd been improving with each practice. Even worked out my left hand. I liked to be able to do everything with either hand. Part of it was for flair, but part was practical. What if I was faced with a situation where I had to use my left hand? I wanted to be prepared.
:You're killing yourself. When do you have any free time anymore? You and Jorjie haven't gone pranking in a week.:
Tonight. Tonight we'll prank. It was Fairy Night, the night before the Sovvan festival. The night of pranks. When fairies walked the earth and worked their magic on mortal men.
Jorjie and I were going to have fun.
"So, Kali, what now?" So far we'd woven garlands of flowers over everyone's doors, sprinkled orange leaves over sleeping bodies, and dusted sparkles over the halls. I'd gotten my hands on some oil, and I splashed it behind us as we went along.
"Now we wait for morning. You know, I've never had a Sovvan festival. I grew up among Christian folk. I mean, we'd go trick-or-treating every Halloween, but no feasting or anything, unless you counted candy."
"Right." Jorjie wasn't listening. Best way to get people to ignore you—talk about inconsequentials. They'll think you don't have anything important to say, and if you do give away something you'd rather not get out, more than likely they didn't hear it anyway. I figured by this time most people thought I'd made up whatever past I was spouting at the moment. Maybe it was some grand practical joke, right? So if I let something slip about the future, I was joking about that, too. After all, I wasn't a ForeSeer.
We stayed up a while, talking and giggling. Girl stuff. Jorjie was so taken with Herald Corwin. The hunk. He did have some nice muscles. And he should have been my type. Talk about hot. I certainly drooled over him enough. But I kept thinking of the pirate captain who visited me in my dreams.
The snow was still falling outside. "Tomorrow, we're going to have a snowball fight," I announced. "I haven't had a good snowball fight in—seven months. Okay, so not very long. But that's okay. We'll have a snowball fight, and then I'll build a snowman."
"You ever plan to grow up?"
"Nope," I replied.
"Me neither."
We fell silent and eventually drifted off to sleep.
The next morning saw a thick blanket of snow covering the entire palace grounds. Jorjie and I weren't the only ones out for a snowball fight, although the other participants were all much younger. But who cared? Snowmen and snow angels decorated the ground. Footprints crisscrossed back and forth. A group of younger Trainees had built themselves a snow fort and were pelting unwary passersby with mushy snowballs.
Growing up in Florida, I hadn't gotten to play in the snow very often. Only when we went on vacation in the north—and often not even then. Spring Break might be great for skiing, but that was because the slopes made their own snow. The real stuff was often not present at all.
Midday there was a great feast. We watched people skating on the pond—it had frozen last week, and was now thick enough to support the skaters. I even took a stab at ice-skating, although I wound up black and blue from all the times I fell. A frozen pond was quite different from an indoor skating rink.
Jorjie turned out to be quite an accomplished little ice dancer. It figured; she had a dancer's slight frame, and plenty of grace. She twirled around the pond a few times, making sure to be seen by the oh-so-gorgeous Herald Corwin. Undoubtedly someone already held his heart. That was just the way of things. Boys are like parking spaces: all the good ones are taken.
The festivities lasted long into the night. I partied too long to have strength left for my self-appointed task. I fell asleep in a chair in my room, staring into the dying fire.
I was still in the Palace, still sitting in my chair. But something had changed. Exhaustion no longer claimed my limbs.
Moonlight streamed in through the window. The fire roared, a healthy glow, no longer sickly and dying. Shadows danced all around me.
A knock came on the door. "Who is it?" I called. A stranger on Sovvan was dangerous. Tonight the veil was thin. Tonight ghosts walked the earth.
"I mean ye no 'arm," came my pirate's voice from behind the door. "I came to find ye, songbird. 'Tis ye, ain't it?"
"Aye, it's me," I replied, opening the door. Was I dreaming? The pirate dreams had never been set in the Palace before. "What's happening?"
"'Tis Sovvan night. The night when dreams an' nightmares both come true."
"I'm dreaming, aren't I? You'll be leaving with the dawn."
"Aye. But I'll see ye again tomorrow night. An' every night after that," he promised.
"Well, at least I won't be lonely."
Soon enough it was creeping up on Midwinter—where had the months flown? Nevermind; it was Christmas time, and no one was singing Christmas carols. People were singing, sure, but it had nothing to do with the birth of Christ. Probably because he'd been born on Earth, not Velgarth. But that didn't mean I couldn't celebrate Christmas. It just meant I had to go about it a bit more creatively than I would otherwise have done.
A Christmas tree—that wasn't too hard to find, but I really couldn't cut it down, not when it had already been standing in just that spot for several long years. Getting a tree grown on a tree farm was one thing; cutting down my own tree was another. So I'd just have to decorate it where it stood.
Ornaments were another problem. Mine were all back home. In Florida. Several hundred light-years away, as near as I could tell. If Earth and Velgarth were even in the same universe.
Well, now that I was (yet again) off doing double-duty chores (it tended to happen a lot, since I got into trouble about every other week), I had a lot of free time and no idea how to use it. And I hadn't quite forgotten how we used to make ornaments back when I was in kindergarten. They didn't hold up very well against the elements, but that really didn't matter. It was the thought that counted.
"What on Velgarth are you doing?" Jorjie demanded when she found me decorating my tree.
"Uh, decorating a Christmas tree," I replied. "It's a tradition where I come from. I'm feeling kinda homesick, you know." "Kinda" was an understatement. I now knew why it was called homesick. I felt sick to my stomach from missing my home, my parents, my siblings, my cats. The cold air helped, but it was still an unpleasant sensation.
"Yeah, me too," Jorjie agreed, surprising me. She'd been here for what, seven years? And still homesick. Huh. "There's too much space here. Sometimes I still get the feeling like it's going to swallow me up. By the way, what were you singing?"
"It's called 'Silver Bells,'" I replied. "It's a Christmas carol. We sing them back home around Midwinter. I know a couple classics, plus some really good modern ones. Unfortunately the humor is rather a type of inside joke. If you're not part of the tradition you won't understand it."
Jorjie shrugged. "Got nothing better to do. You can explain it."
So I did, as best I could. I told her about Santa Clause and the reindeer and elves and the traditions associated with Christmas, as well as why it was celebrated. Talking about it helped get rid of the knot of homesickness tightening my belly. Part of the problem was that there was nobody here with whom I could share Christmas. Lyrna did her best, filling my all the empty little cracks in my heart, but there was only so much she could do. She might understand, but she wasn't from my world, either. "And we get each other gifts—it doesn't really have to be large, the main thing is that we're thinking of each other. And it's fun to watch everyone opening presents."
"Why don't you sing me one of those funny songs you mentioned?"
What the hell, why not? "Grandma got run over by a reindeer, walking home from our house Christmas Eve. You can say there's no such thing as Santa, but as for me and Grandpa, we believe. She'd been drinking too much eggnog, and we begged her not to go. But she forgot her medication, and she staggered out the door into the snow. When we found her Christmas morning at the scene of the attack, she had hoof prints on her forehead and incriminating Clause marks on her back."
For a thrill, Jorjie agreed to celebrate Christmas with me. She even convinced Stefany and Rachel to join in. We'd exchange gifts—I'd been planning to get gifts for them anyway; what are friends for if you can't buy them presents for Christmas?—and sing Christmas carols until midnight, or until we got yelled at by the grown-ups, whichever came first. We didn't consider ourselves grown up.
It didn't snow at all on Midwinter. We were having a heat front, and although the snow stayed on the ground, the air wasn't cold enough to create anymore. We sang Christmas songs anyway—complete with our comment on them.
"Oh, the weather outside is frightful."
"Not really," said Rachel.
"I actually thing it's rather nice," I agreed.
"And the fire is so delightful."
"There is no fire," Stefany pointed out. "We don't need one."
"And since we've no place to go."
"Then where are we going?" Jorjie asked rhetorically. The answer was to a Midwinter party—just because we'd decided to celebrate Christmas didn't mean we wanted to miss out on the Midwinter festivities.
"Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!"
"It's not," said I, peering at the sky.
"It doesn't show signs of stopping."
"Because it never began in the first place," said Stefany.
"And I've brought some corn for popping."
"So where is it?" demanded Jorjie.
"The lights are turned way down low."
I glanced around us. "Looks pretty bright to me."
"Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!"
A second glance at the sky. "Nope, no snow."
"When we finally kiss good-night."
"Eww!" (That was all of us.)
"How I'll hate going out in the storm."
"What storm?" Jorjie asked.
Stefany waxed poetic. "The air is becalmed, and the sun shines gloriously upon us. Nor do I bespy a storm."
"A storm implies clouds, of which there are none in the sky," Rachel the Artificer Trainee explained.
"But if you really hold me tight."
"Eww again."
"All the way home I'll be warm."
"I think I'm warm anyway," Rachel said.
"The fire is slowly dying."
"Yeah, 'cause it wasn't alive in the first place," said I.
"And my dear, we're still good-byeing."
"Good-bye?" Stefany asked. "We've barely said heyla."
"But as long as you love me so."
"Eww."
"Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!"
"Still not snowing."
Christmas morning was absolutely beautiful. Snow fell from a brilliant blue sky. It was like a sun-shower, but with snow. The snow was wet and sticky, perfect for building snowmen or having a snowball fight. Classes were still out for the Midwinter holidays, so there were plenty of children playing in the snow. Jorjie and I met Stefany and Rachel by my Christmas tree, where we exchanged gifts. The Velgarth tradition was to exchange gifts on Midwinter, but since I was new, and homesick, my friends agreed to humor me by waiting to open them until Christmas.
All three of them had gotten me books—my specific request. I'm a bookworm. I don't read books; I devour them. And I was seriously short on books since coming to Valdemar. I had a bunch of bad romances that I'd read and had been planning to take home so I wouldn't have to look at them again, and what books I'd been able to acquire since coming here, and that was it. It just wasn't enough. So they got me books.
I gave Jorjie a bit of fake dog poo I'd made myself, along with other pranking materials. Rachel got my Calculus book—it had been in my trunk for me to study, since multivariable was going right over my head, but now that I didn't actually need it, I never wanted to look at it again. And for Stefany there was a book of old songs that never got sung anymore.
A holiday celebration just isn't complete without a drinking contest—but none of us really wanted to wake up the next morning with headaches, and besides, the day was too innocent to spoil it by getting drunk. So instead of bringing alcohol, I produced some apple cider, which I'd made to bubble by the forced addition of carbon dioxide. Magic, of course. Well, Fetching, really, but on a very small scale. Just enough for it to bubble like alcohol.
We'd all been drunk in the past, so it wasn't any hardship for us to pretend that the bubbling cider held real alcohol. It was simply a matter of not concentrating on standing up straight (balance was for sissies, anyway), and ignoring the little voice of caution in our heads. Soon enough we had a rowdy little party going. Jorjie was quickly left behind—her little body couldn't hold as much liquid as the rest of us—and then Rachel. I was holding my own through sheer determination, and Stefany, as a Bardic Trainee, had trained herself to down liquids with alacrity so she could get back to singing. My stubborn streak cut out somewhere around the fourth bottle, so Stefany was proclaimed the winner. Out of sheer perversity she made it through six whole bottles.
Then she had to leave us to attend a pressing matter in the privy.
The rest of us quickly reacquired our balance and inhibitions (the benefits of being psychologically drunk) and headed out to play.
This may be a gift, but I still want reviews. You know, a review could be your Christmas present to me. It would certainly make my day that much the merrier.