Tybetha
908 Words
Tybetha~
Tobias Buchanan
Etowah, Este
Tobias pressed his chin to the fiddle and bowed the last bars of a frisky riff. Andy and his other Hawks took the tune to its feisty finish on their flutes and geddars. Este drums beat applause, and dancers slowed to catch their breath.
It had started small, years ago, when Tobias first pulled out his fiddle and introduced his Este hosts to Aleron mountain music. He’d taught a few dancers a simple reel, and in the years since, the dancers had grown in number as the reels had grown in complexity. He wondered what his clansmen would think about Este bucs tapping to the rhythms of his homeland.
“One more,” said Lamochatee. “Play just one more.”
“Enough,” said Malatchee. “Let our own players take up the music. Let us hear how well Etowah flutes can sing a Hawk’s tune.”
“We know the tune.” A bright-eyed Este shouldered through the crowd. “We can give the dancers a reel that will make White Hawk give away his fiddle.”
“Challenge accepted,” said Tobias. “Play the same reel we played. Let the dancers decide which was played best.”
Shouts and wagers started amongst the revelers. Tobias left the mico’s steps that served as a stage, ready for a break and a stiff drink. He crossed the plaza, weaving through the crowd, in search of where he’d left Duck and the aurello barrels.
Noya appeared in front of him, holding a cup.
“You know the way to a man’s heart.” He took a sip and let the slow burn warm his throat. “If you should ever tire of Malatchee…” He winked.
“You have stayed too long with us, White Hawk. You make the sweet talk like an Este buck now.” She laced her arm through his. “Walk with me. I will protect you from the young women sighing to gaze into your blue eyes and trembling for your touch.”
The Este loved a flowery phrase. They had a knack for embellishment and were masters of persuasion. Throughout the feast, one woman after another tempted his attention with flirting and flattery. Marriage demanded unwavering fidelity, but an unmarried woman was free to take a partner when she chose. Virginity was not a prize to be hoarded. Abstinence offended the First Mother. On a more pragmatic level, it simply went against human nature.
Tobias had spent many nights in Etowah and few alone. The memories put him out of sorts tonight. He patted Noya’s arm and took her up on her offer.
“Guard me, lovely Noya,” he said. “And we can talk about Lamochatee, eh?”
“We talked this talk before,” she said.
“A bright boy grows restless. He needs to learn of the world beyond Etowah. Let me foster him at Buchanwick. Let me teach him to deal with the kings and priests eyeing Tallu across the Atlassia.”
“Malatchee says you are right,” Noya granted with a trace of resignation. “Holahto agrees. He says you can teach my son what even the heniha cannot.”
“He would be gone only a year and come back to Etowah on every trip I make. You and Malatchee are welcome at Buchanwick any time, and Holahto, too.” He stopped to let her consider.
“I will think on it,” she said. “Do not pester me.”
“I speak of it no more… on this visit.”
“Good. Now you will listen to me instead, eh?” She stopped their leisurely walk. “We must talk about Tybetha.”
Tobias drained the last of the aurello and handed her the empty cup.
“Have your say,” he said tersely.
“She wounded your pride.”
“It’s over. History.”
“Is it? Open your eyes, White Hawk.”
Noya turned him to a cluster of people a few yards away. Flaxen blonde hair stood out in a crowd of raven-black. Bitterness told him to walk away. Affection he’d thought long gone argued otherwise.
“Look closer,” said Noya. “Down at her knee.”
Tobias’ gaze traveled down. A toddler tugged on the shaman’s skirt. Tybetha bent to take the fair-haired baby in her arms. Tobias swallowed the tightness in his throat.
“So, she went back to Crystal Springs and took a mate. Congratulate her for me.”
“Go to her,” Noya persisted. “Go, or I will drag you by your ear.”
Noya gave him a commanding push. Tobias edged closer, and someone whispered her a warning.
“Tybetha,” he addressed her back.
The Nunyaehi shaman’s slender shoulders rose and fell in a sigh. The baby on her hip looked his way. Blue-grey eyes blinked back at him. Eyes like mine. A tiny finger twisted in curls the color of corn. Like his own.
“Tybetha.” This time, it came out a growl.
Tybetha turned to face him. She was as beautiful as he remembered. Firelight drew out the gold in her eyes, as vibrant as the first time he’d looked into them so many years ago. Her hair draped her shoulders like liquid moonlight. Fawn-colored stripes graced her slender neck.
He snapped out of his daze and shook the sense back into his head. Tybetha had some explaining to do.
“It’s good to see you again, Tobias.”
“Good to see me? You disappear for two years and show back up with a child—my child. And that’s all you have to say?”
“We should talk.”
“You think so?” he shouted. He rarely shouted.
“Not here,” she said. “Come home with me.”
Tobias hesitated. The music had started up again. He was well versed in Este etiquette. The guest of honor didn’t just walk off during the festivities.
“Go on,” Noya nudged. “Andy will take your place. Malatchee will understand.”
Tobias took a tentative step closer. He held out his hand to the baby, unsure what to do next. The baby reached for him, and he glanced uncertainly at Tybetha.
“May I take her?”
“She’s decided you should,” said Tybetha.
She. He had a daughter.
Tobias took his child in his arms. He realized he was grinning like a fool, and he didn’t care who saw. He held his daughter close and made her a thousand silent promises.
Chapter 4
- Writer
