Phoebe -- A Description (public view)

TRYSTAN

For many years, I was unable to speak of my son's birth. And subsequent death.

Trystan was conceived during my short time with Jordan, and his father never knew of his existence. When Jordan disappeared, I ran to the Tree for sanctuary, and when I had been there near two months, I realized I was pregnant.

I had become comfortable with the ways of the Life Tree very quickly. It was a peaceful life, and strangely enough, that suited me right then. Each day we would spend the morning in meditation, then the day working with the pilgrims. I had quickly discovered my flare for storytelling, so each evening I told stories of the Tree and of our religion to those who came to hear. As I have said before, it was a smiple life, but in helping others, I helped myself forget.

Wynne was a friend in that time. She was 17, and considered the terror among the initiates. She was rarely deferential to her superiors, although she always gave due respect to the Tree. She was near as tall as myself, though broader built, with a ready smile and grand sense of humor. More than anyone, Wynne helped me forget.

Wynne found me during my first week in Devane. I was sitting outside, not yet involved in the daily activities, and lost in my thoughts as I mused about Jordan.

"Hello!" I looked up to see a girl standing over me, clad in the bright yellow robes of an initiate. She was grinning, staring unabashedly. "I'm Wynne. I know you're new here, and you looked awfully young, and well, a little lonely. So I thought I'd say hello."

I did not welcome the intrusion. Still, I was raised to be polite, and I knew that should I remain an outsider, I would be as miserable at the Tree as I was anywhere else. "And I am Phoebe." I motioned to the grass beside me. "Please."

She dropped to a seat, still smiling, despite my serious tone. "Are you an initiate?" She glanced curiously at my garb, eyes falling to the bands Jordan gave me, comfortable on my wrists but out of place on an initiate.

"Yes," I answered simply.

Whether or not I offered the details, Wynne was determined. "Good! I was the youngest until now, so I can help you out a bit."

I soon found myself answering a multitude of questions, from where I had been born, to what my parents were like, to my favorite foods. I told the truth, save the fact that it all happened so many years before. I let her believe I was fifteen, and I never told her of my marriage. But somehow I did find myself telling her of Jordan.

Which is why, when she found me two months later, huddled in my room, arms around the chamberpot as my breakfast left my body, she didn't say a word. She simply put her arms around me and held me until there was nothing left, then still held me while I cried.

Neither of us performed our duties that day. Instead we talked, with Wynne reassuring me that there was no shame in carrying Jordan's child. The gift of the Tree is Life, and new life was what I carried.

Still, I was understandably hesitant when I reported to our superior that evening. "Sir," I bowed my head slightly to the head of the initiates, "when I came to request sanctuary for myself, I did not realize that I would soon be asking for the same for my child."

"And the father of your child?" He did not actually need an identity, but rather wished to know what had become of him.

"Gone." I covered a multitude of possibilities, and thankfully, it was accepted.

Being pregnant under the benevolant shadow of the Tree was different than being so under the malevolent eye of my late husband. Once everyone knew of my condition, I was treated with the respect and care that befits a bearer of life. I was carrying the gift of the Tree.

For all that I might appear tiny to an outlander, among my own people I am more than adequate in size, and I carried Trystan easily. Yes, Trystan. I had decided early on the name of my child, when during a period of meditation I had suddenly known that I was to have a son. As time passed, and my stomach burgeoned, I grew more certain. And those around me, first Wynne and then the others, began to call him Trystan before he was born.

Trystan's arrival hardly changed my lifestyle. Despire my round belly, I still told stories every evening and watched the children each afternoon. After a time, I did halt my exercises, horseback riding and swordplay, because my stature was too overbalanced. In fact, I halted sooner than I had planned, as Trystan was already larger than I would have had expected.

Wynne teased me often about having twins, but I was certain that Trystan was alone. It felt as if I were to bear only one child, not two.

He was due in the spring, just as the Tree replenished Crystal Tears with life. So I was surprised when two months short of that time I felt a sharp pain shoot through me as I told a tale of the origin of the Tree. I didn't quite believe it, so I took a moment to solidify the simple illusion I was practicing by using it to illustrate my words. Then I continued with my story. A short while later, I finished the story and adjourned to my table, next to Wynne. The pain struck just as I lowered myself carefully into my seat, and surprised, I could not conceal my grimace as I sat down quickly.

"Are you all right?" Wynne asked hurriedly.

I nodded, gritting my teeth until the pain went away. "Fine. But I don't think dinner agreed with me at all."

The next pain came quicker still, and I gasped when it started, drawing both Wynne's attention and that of another initiate, Edmund, seated on my other side. "You are not all right," Wynne insisted. She motioned to Edmund and together they helped me stand straight and walk, despite the pain tearing at my belly. "Is it Trystan?" she asked as we walked towards the healers.

My temper and breath both short with pain, and I snapped, "I have not yet born a child, so I fear I would not know for certain."

She just nodded wisely. "It is Trystan." She paused our progress, looping both my arms about Edmund's neck and encouraging him to carry me to the healers. "And I will fetch a midwife." And then she ran off.

Edmund did somehow manage to carry me to the healers, and by the time we arrived I was more than willing to have the whole business over and done with. Wynne arrived with the midwife just as I was explaining my decision, in graphic detail, to the healer. My friend just shook her head. "A baby does strange things to a person's mind."

"Get me something to break," I growled politely from the bed. When she didn't move immediately, I added loudly, "Now!"

My memories of what happened after that are hazy at best, and no one, not even Wynne, seemed willing to provide the details later. I do remember great, tearing pain, and only the thought that it was Jordan's child, and a gift from the Tree, helped me persevere. And then, blessedly after the pain, came blackness.

I am still not certain how long I slept. That was another detail no one seemed willing to provide. But when I awoke, the sky was dark and the moon high. My room was empty and silent, and my body was weaker than I expected. In truth, I felt near as weak as I had after Edward beat me that last time. Still, I could stand on careful feet, and I slowly made my way into the hallway outside the room.

Wynne was asleep in a chair outside my room, but she came awake at the sound of my door opening. "Phoebe!" Her voice had that sleepy, little girl quality to it, as if she still were in a dream. "You shouldn't be out of bed yet." She stood as if to usher me back into my room.

I was tired, and my body ached, but I wanted to see the fruits of my labors. "Where is Trystan?"

"Not yet, Phoebe," Wynne shushed me. "You need your rest first." She efficiently ushered me back into my room, handed me a glass of a sweet-smelling liquid, and waited patiently while I drank it. Then she settled me again into bed, tucking me in. "Now sleep."

I didn't hear the door close as she left.

They waited for two more days before they told me. For two days, they kept me sleeping a sweet dreamless sleep. Each time I awoke, Wynne was there, with a glass in her hand, and once I drank the contents I drifted back into dreamland. But on the third day I awoke with clear thoughts and feeling stronger. And I refused Wynne's cup.

"Where is my son?" I demanded. I was tired of being forced to sleep.

Wynne looked away, suddenly unable to meet my eyes. "Phoebe..."

"Do I have a daughter and not a son?" I persisted, not understanding her withdrawal. "Or did I lose the bet and now find myself with twins?"

"You had a son," she said softly, still not meeting my eyes.

"Trystan!" I smiled broadly. "Is that all?" I had suddenly realized that two of Jordan's children could only be better than one.

"No, it's not all." Still she didn't turn. "Phoebe, he was born dead."

"Dead?" I sank back down upon my bed, knees suddenly weak. Dead? My lively child, who kicked and turned with the strength of his father and the enthusiasm of his mother, was dead? I simply could not believe her words. "How can it be true?"

"It is true." She finally turned and locked eyes with me, her hands on my shoulders, face close to mine. "Phoebe, Trystan died in the birthing and he near killed you in the process." And expression of disgust crossed her face before she looked away. "He was born deformed, Phoebe. He was not a true child of the Tree. In truth, it was merciful."

Merciful? To have my child torn from me, such a short time after I had lost the father? "Get out!" My voice echoed loudly. She turned stricken eyes to me, and I knew she had meant no harm by her statements. Still, I repeated firmly, "Get out."

My upbringing, as a lady whose primary duty it was to inspire obedience in the servants, served me well now. Wynne left.

Again I slept through two days, this time through my own desire to escape. I loceked my door, refusing food and companionship, attempting to achieve that same dreamless sleep I had slept before. But without Wynne's sweet cup I could not do it. Finally I admitted that perhaps companionship might help my mood, and I unlocked my door and stepped out into the hall.

The hall was empty, as it was midday and most were in the city of Devane, working. I walked carefully down to the kitchen, finding myself a snack, suddenly starving. I was just walking outside, two sandwiches in one hand and a glass of water in the other, when I nearly walked into Wynne as she came back in.

"Hello." Her voice had that edge of politeness to it, slightly cool and unfriendly.

I nodded, not smiling but not angry either. "Hello." I motioned back through the door with my glass. "I was just going to have lunch. Would you care to join me?"

She shrugged, lifting her shoulders ever so slightly. "Sure."

Our conversation was stilted at first, speaking of mundane matters of life in Devane. She did not mention Trystan, and neither did I. After a time, we had both relaxed into something near our old friendship.

We never did speak of Trystan. Four years later, Wynne left Devane to travel as a priestess of the Tree. She had the will I never had, and she completed her studies quickly. Just before she left, she came to my room. I looked up, somewhat sad at losing my friend. Whenever we talked it was easy to forget all that had happened before I came to Devane. I would sorely miss her.

She was smiling slightly as she walked in, one hand tucked behind her back. "I brought a gift for you, Phoebe."

I tilted my head to one side. "A gift? Isn't the duty of those remaining behind to give a farewell gift to those who depart?"

She shrugged, still smiling. "I think you will like it." She held out her hand, and cradled in her palm was one of the crystals of the Tree, perhaps the size of the middle finger of her hand. "It fell the night Trystan was born."

I looked away, walking towards the window, leaning my hands on the sill as I stared out at the Tree. Her voice followed me. "I walked outside while the healers worked with you, making sure you would survive the night. You had bled heavily and I was in the way." She paused slightly, taking a deep breath. "I went to the Tree to meditate, and ask for aid for you. It was dawn before I opened my eyes, and a single crystal was on the ground in front of me. I've kept it for you."

I turned around, and she was still holding it out, "Please."

I accepted it, not sure what to say. She held out a leather thong, and without thinking, I tied it securely around it, then stood still as she fastened it about my neck. All I could think to say was, "Thank you."

She smiled and nodded. "Goodbye, Phoebe."

I nodded. "Goodbye."

She walked out the door then, and through my window I watched as she rode out of sight. It was the last I ever saw of her. I assumed she died, and someday perhaps I'll meet her again, when I meet the body in which the Tree granted her rebirth. Given enough time, this could happen. But in the meantime, I still wear this crystal that the Tree wept on the night of Trystan's birth.

Chapter Eight, Lleuad

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