Wrenogal: Act III, xv-xviii

xv

I’ve left you for some time upon a cliff—

a precipice called Aerandel, or, say,

a lie called fair Lineya? Know now: if

I’ve left too long, I will no longer stray:

Noval’s hand drifted up to touch his hair.

“tis red, yes. ‘tis the mark that we must bear,

who live out in these mountains, out here, where

there are only those who attempt to dare.”

“Then will you dare to come back?” said the maid,

“Will you now dare to dream again with me?

You once said that your heart could not be stayed—

was that but singsong for my ears to see?”

It was a tired trope, but tropes are good

for getting men to do things that they should.

xvi

His eyes now squinted. “You.. Are bolder now..

I don’t remember you to speak this way.

But, dare I say it, I would break no vow

I told you on a long-forgotten day.

But let me fetch the letters, and I will

prove, somehow, that I must remain out here.

This is the ground that I am meant to till,

these hills are not the only things I fear.”

He spoke of quiet—fear of a deep sort,

for his heart welled with grief he could not speak.

Adventure left no room for its retort:

the guilt of knowing his king’s word was weak.

“Then fetch, and come back here, and tell me why

you must leave me alone at home to die.”

xvii

This was exactly what Aerandel wished:

a chance to create distance from the man

who’d see her loose disguise if he had fished

even a little closer than he’d been.

But what she did not think would have occurred—

her love was formal, not so cavalier—

was that the space would quickly be transferred

in one or two bold steps as he came near.

“Allow me to prove words with something more,”

he said, extending one arm to her face.

“I cannot but prove that my heart can pour

more in a kiss than any word can trace.”

And shock took over Aerandel. “DO NOT!”

She shrieked. Far louder than she might have thought.

xviii

Noval jerked back his arm, and saw at last—

now close enough to tell something was wrong;

but stood his heart, and held his own ground fast

before the night mirage he was among.

“Do not leave now, Noval. I am not she;

but what I’ve said for her she would have said.

What you felt just now for the form of me

is what you ought to tell her. I, instead,

come here before you desperate in need.

Your word alone is last that can repel

a lie—or, I believe a lie—whose seed

has burrowed farther than most men can tell.

You were upon that voyage, were you not?”

But bandit watchmen had, her outcry, caught.