The Summer Tree (The Fionavar Tapestry, #1)

by Guy Gavriel Kay

It seemed that there were still things one could not do. So one did everything else as well as one possibly could and found new things to try, to will oneself to master, and always one realized, at the kernel and heart of things, that the ends of the earth would not be far enough away.

Turning, she watched the battle, her heart leaping into her throat, though not with fear. By the light of the setting sun, Kimberly bore witness to the first battle of Aileron dan Ailell in his war, and a stunning, a nearly debilitating grace was displayed for her then upon that lonely path. To see him with a sword in his hand was almost heartbreaking. It was a dance. It was more. Some men, it seemed, were born to do a thing; it was true.

“I told you to go,” he said. “I know. I don’t always do what I’m told. I thought I warned you.” He was silent, looking up at her. “A ‘little’ skill,” she mimicked quite precisely. His face, she saw with delight, had suddenly gone shy. “Why,” Kim Ford asked, “did that take you so long?” For the first time she heard him laugh.

“I lied,” Leith said quietly. “I married you because no other man I know or can imagine could have made my heart leap so when he asked.” He turned from the moon to her. “The sun rises in your eyes,” he said. The formal proposal. “It always, always has, my love.”

“Could you trouble yourself,” the bass voice continued, “to summon this Levon person from some other locality?”