“Yes,” said Rory. “My horse is just three years old now, and I have been training him myself. He has known no other trainer or rider than me. I can take you to the stable later to meet him. He’s not one of the blacks that we raise to sell. He’s a bit short and stocky and can have a mean streak sometimes, so you have to watch out for his teeth, but he’s the strongest and smartest horse in the whole stable!”
“He sounds like a fine animal. You are fortunate to have him.”
“We will find a horse for you, too,” Rory promised. “The future Lady MacAran should ride a well-bred animal worthy of her.”
Camilla bowed her head. “As you wish, my lord.”
Her voice was calm but Rory caught the hint of a sob in it. How could Camilla be saddened by the thought of getting a beautiful horse of her very own? Especially when she could have that instead of something that looked half-grown and underfed?
A roar of laughter from the lords drew everyone’s attention. Rory realized his father had been indulging in his hawking stories again, which everyone always seemed to find so amusing. In fact, Lord Scathfell was nearly doubled over with laughter, while Camilla’s cousin giggled delicately behind her hand. Rory’s mother gazed at her husband with a mixture of exasperation and love.
“What about the stories we’ve heard lately?” asked Lord Scathfell. “They say the banshees have come down from the high passes because of a harsh winter in the Far Hellers. We thought we heard one on the way here, but I wasn’t sure.”
“If you had heard a banshee, you would know it,” said the MacAran. “No one can mistake that sound for another.”
“We are safe enough here,” added Rory’s mother. “The banshees, even in the years when they come down from the passes, don’t come this far. And they never approach human habitations. Even if they did come, and they were here, they could not harm you while you were safe here in the house, only frighten you with their cries.”
Tessa looked pale but Lord Scathfell looked mollified. Camilla merely dabbed at her lips with a napkin and did not respond at all to the behavior of the others, or react to the news about the banshees.
Rory soul quailed, but he reminded himself that Camilla was a guest at another’s home for the first time in years. She was surely just being extra careful to be polite.
While the others started off on stories of what this year’s Midsummer celebration might be like, Rory considered his intended bride. He might be stuck with her at his side for the rest of his life, which, at the moment, was not a tasteful proposition. The two of them might not have the passion of the bard’s romances, but they should at least be friends. He sincerely wanted to like her, and for her to like him back. The obvious affection between his parents was something Rory always admired, and secretly feared he would never have.
“What is your horse’s name?” he asked.
“Lovely.”
That seemed an odd name, but at least she was engaging in conversation. “I call my horse Champion, because I know he’s going to be a great horse one day when he’s fully trained. What is the story of your horse’s name?”
Camilla gave the tiniest shrug. “Merely that when she was presented to me, I said, how lovely, and that’s what everyone started calling her. She really is a sweet thing. I shall miss her.”
That startled Rory. “Miss her? Why? She didn’t look old. Is she ill?”
Camilla shook her head. “No, but when my father leaves for home, he will take Lovely back with him. He says I must get used to Falconsward ways, and Lovely will have no place here.”
For the first time, Rory’s heart went out to his intended. No matter that Lovely was an odd name, or that the horse was undersized. He would be heartbroken, not to mention, incensed, to be parted forever from Champion by anything less than Zandru’s Hells. Why would Lord Scathfell make his daughter give up her family, her home, and her horse? That seemed outrageously cruel.
Of course, as his mother often reminded him, many people didn’t feel for animals the way the MacArans did. Perhaps Lord Scathfell felt one animal was interchangeable with another. Rory had heard about such people; he had just never encountered any. He had been glad to offer his intended a mount worthy of her, but he would never have separated her from an animal she loved. A person could be fond of more than one horse at a time.
~o0o~
After lunch, the group retired to a veranda where they could look over the horse pastures. Some of the blacks gamboled around the field nearest them, while a few roans and bays grazed on the outskirts, displaying only the occasional bared tooth or raised hoof toward the rambunctious blacks.
Camilla sat by Rory, hands clasped inside a muff as if it were fully winter and not late spring. She looked out at the green fields without any expression. Whether she was terrified, annoyed, angry, or even cautiously hopeful, Rory could not tell.
“Will you come to see the horses with me, lady?” he asked, wondering if she might be more open when her father and chaperone were not close enough to overhear.
“I would love to,” said Tessa.
Rory bristled. “I am hardly going to behave badly toward my intended bride between here and the pasture fence, which you can clearly see from here. She needs no chaperone to see the horses.”
“Still, Tessa is here and would like to go,” said the MacAran. “Take both the ladies along for a stroll.”
Rory bowed his head, knowing he couldn’t go against his father’s express wishes. Camilla made no comment as she rose and followed him down the stairs to the courtyard, and across to the pasture fence. Tessa, however, prattled on the whole time.
“Oh, this is just perfect,” she said, for about the tenth time. “Such weather, and, oh! the views of the Hellers. I thought no place was more beautiful than Scathfell. And look at that hawk!” She pointed toward a yard where the hawkmaster was training a young ladies’ hawk, which Rory’s mother had thought to give as a gift to Camilla. Rory would have to tell his mother that was a bad idea. “How beautiful. Are they all so pretty? I hear you train good hawks here. And, see, the courtyard here is in good repair; the one at home could use some attention...”
How anyone endured much time with Tessa was beyond Rory’s comprehension. She barely drew breath in between one inane utterance and another, nor did she pause after raising a question, as if she expected no one to answer her. Perhaps that was why Camilla was so quiet; she had learned to keep her attention elsewhere so that her cousin did not drive her mad with drivel.
Rory tried to call one of his favorites, a rugged bay named Morning who was trusted to train babies to ride, but the horse put her ears back at Tessa’s incessant chatter and remained by the fence some yards away. Camilla merely stared into the distance and said nothing.
Eventually, Rory led the women back to the others, heavy of heart and thinking dark thoughts about his future with the silent Camilla.
~o0o~
That evening, Rory’s mother visited his room and sat by his bed while he finished tidying up his room, which his mother insisted he do each night so that each new day “started afresh and neat.” It was also a task she forbade the servants to perform for him, because she said he should do something for himself every day, just as the Bearer of Burdens would wish.
“I thought the day went well,” she said, as she brushed a few stray hairs back from her face. Her blond braids were untouched yet by gray, even though she was nearly forty and had endured multiple miscarriages. Rory was her only living child. “How do you like the girl?”
The girl. As if she were a broodmare for breeding, and not a person.
“How can you talk about her like that?” he asked. “She’s not a thing. It might be better if she were; then I could ignore her. But how can I know if I even like her if she will barely speak to me?”
His mother smiled. “You’re right, of course. When I first came to Falconsward, I was terrified. I had heard of the MacArans and their powerful gifts with animals, and I expected my husband to be some h
alf-man half-hawk who could, I don’t know, do magical things, perhaps even fly! And then he was a handsome young man, brash and bold, but still awkward and hopeful, and no wild creature at all. No doubt Camilla has heard stories about the MacArans and is nervous about living here.”
“What stories do you think she has heard about me?” asked Rory tentatively. He had some ability with animals, especially horses, but nothing like his father, who could literally meld his mind with the mind of hawk or horse or chervine. Rory had some hope he might grow into more power, but at sixteen, he was rapidly losing that hope. What if the servants, or the neighbors, were gossiping about his lack of powers?
“I don’t see what stories she could have heard,” said his mother as she rose gracefully from her chair. “Other than you are a handsome young lad with a bright future and a loving family. What else could she desire?”
She left the room before Rory could work up the courage to ask what she had desired when she had first ridden into Falconsward.
~o0o~
Rory tossed and turned but sleep eluded him. He kept seeing Camilla’s blank stare as she looked out over the pastures of the land where her future lay, and her lack of reaction to either Tessa’s rambling or Rory’s attempts to coax Morning close enough to be stroked.
He wanted, no, he needed to be at the stables. The stables were home in ways his own room simply wasn’t. Rory put on thick pants and shirt and a heavy jacket to combat the cold of the spring night, and tiptoed down through the halls until he reached a side door that would give him access to the yard and stable. He had long ago mastered the technique of opening the door slowly enough to keep it from making enough noise to wake everyone.
He didn’t breathe deeply and freely until he stood in front of Champion’s stall. The horse rather negligently put his nose over the rail to be petted, and Rory complied. The horse’s nose was velvety smooth and his breath warm on Rory’s face.
Champion was restless and kept twisting his head to look at something at the far end of the stable. Rory listened carefully but heard nothing out of the ordinary. He placed his face against Champion’s and mustered what little laran he had. The horse could sense another person in the stable, someone the horse didn’t know. The person wasn’t frightening, just alien.
Rory patted the horse in thanks and called out. “I know you’re there. Come on out.”
After a few moments, a small, heavily cloaked figure, crept out of the shadows. The way she moved and the fiery red hair streaming out from under the cloak gave away her identity.
“Camilla,” said Rory with a slight bow. “I wasn’t expecting to see you in the stables.”
She came closer, displaying no more emotion than she had earlier. “I wanted to see Lovely before my father takes her home.”
“What if I asked him to let her remain?”
Camilla hesitated. For the first time, Rory saw indecision on her face.
“I would like that...” she said. But she slammed down the mask once again. “It is up to my father, however. She is only a horse.”
“But surely your father will be here for some time,” said Rory. “After all these years, this is his first visit outside his own home. He’ll stay more than one night!”
Camilla looked back at a stall which must be Lovely’s. “It is difficult for him to be away from my mother.”
Rory stopped himself from blurting out but your mother’s dead.
“I know it sounds strange,” Camilla continued, “but he took care of her for so long. He barely left her bedside the last few months of her life, didn’t even notice the rest of us, not for any reason, not ever. Now that she’s gone, he goes to her grave every day. I swear he talks to her more than he talks to me, or the steward, or anyone. And she’s the one that can’t hear him.”
Rory suddenly realized, Tessa’s staying, too. That way, Lord Scathfell could disencumber himself from two family members and be alone in his holding with his dead wife. Rory shuddered in horror. Lord Scathfell had seemed cheerful enough this afternoon; he had managed to hide his grief, at least briefly. Long enough to come here, drop off his remaining living family, and disappear again back into his living death.
“Then he should certainly leave Lovely here with you,” said Rory. “We’ll find a way to ask him to make sure that happens.”
“You are too kind.”
“I hope you will be happy here,” he said, thinking desperately how he could make Falconsward somewhere Camilla would be glad to call home. Even if they had to share it with the garrulous Tessa.
She shrugged.
“If you don’t like to be around the hawks, perhaps Lovely can help you get more used to being around horses,” he said, aware he was blathering on much like Tessa. Perhaps that was why Tessa never shut up: she wanted to do anything to fill the silence Camilla cloaked herself with as heavily as she cloaked her body. “You could learn to train them, if you like. My mother doesn’t do that, but my father’s mother did. Or, do you like to sew? Or embroider? My mother is good at those things.”
Camilla’s expression did not change. “I am sure I will find something to do.”
“But what do you want to do?” asked Rory in frustration. “Don’t you want to be happy? Don’t you want a home?”
An expression finally crossed Camilla’s face. It might have been fear. Or anger. It was gone before Rory could identify it.
“Who doesn’t?” she finally said.
“This could be your home,” said Rory. “We don’t have to marry for years. We have time to do things together, and be friends, and find out what our life might hold. We can make plans, and learn what makes the other happy.”
“I know what my life will hold,” said Camilla. “I will be your wife, and bear your children. I will preside over Midsummer celebrations, and Midwinter festivals. And one day, I will be buried wherever it is you place your lords and ladies. My life will hold no surprises.”
“And no joy, either? That is a grim future!”
“I do not ask for any joy. The Bearer of Burdens knows I have the strength to endure, and that is enough.”
Rory’s heart almost failed him, and he reached out for her. “My lady...Camilla...how can I tell you that I would do anything to make you happy, if I only knew what it was.”
She said again, “You are too kind.”
“Damn kindness to Zandru’s Nine Hells!” he exclaimed.
Camilla’s eyes widened in shock. “My lord!”
“Kindness is a start, but it is not enough. I will have no wife that is not happy with me,” he said. “I will only marry the woman who comes to our marriage with hope, and who looks forward to years at my side. How could I endure anything else? How could you?”
Before she could reply, a bloodcurdling screech filled the stable. Champion whinnied in fear and pressed his head against Rory’s chest. The other horses in the stable made panicked sounds and stomped their hooves.
One high-pitched scream filled the air from the far stall.
“Lovely!” said Camilla. She ran to the stall, where the horse was throwing herself against the sides of her stall in terror. Camilla reached for the latch.
“Camilla, don’t!”
But she didn’t listen.
As soon as the latch lifted and the door swung aside, Lovely bolted out of the stall. Startled grooms, who had come rushing in as soon as the horses had started stamping and screaming, flung themselves out of the mare’s way.
Camilla ran after her horse.
“Young lady, stay inside!” shouted one of the grooms. “The banshees won’t come near the stable.”
But Camilla would not heed, and Rory could not blame her. If Champion were out in the dark, helpless before hungry banshees, would he cower in the house? Or would he try to save his horse? The answer was obvious.
Rory grabbed a rope and ran after her. “Tell my father where I’ve gone,” he said to the grooms as he dashed by them.
Despite the fact that Camilla was weighed down
by a dress and a heavy cloak, she was quick enough on her feet that Rory had difficulty following her. Rory ran across the courtyard and around the mews, listening for Camilla calling out to her horse.
The horrific scream of the huge flightless bird echoed throughout Falconsward. Dark windows began lighting up with candles as people awakened and placed lights on their sills to ward off the terrifying creatures, who were notoriously averse to light.
Rory had never seen a banshee, nor had anyone he had ever met, because they rarely came this far down from the tree line where they normally lived. But in particularly cold weather, or long frigid springs, they occasionally wandered beyond their normal habitat, and everyone knew what to do when they came.
Snow began to fall. Rory was grateful; it meant he might be able to track Camilla, and that his father’s men would also be able to track him. With torch-bearing reinforcements behind him, the banshees would surely retreat back to the darkness, no matter how hungry they were.
The moons gave enough light that Rory could find his way around the fields beyond the mews, aided by his intimate knowledge of the land. He had run and played throughout the fields his entire life. He knew every hillock, and every rock. He was only afraid that Camilla would hurt herself in her quest to find Lovely, and that he might miss her in the dark.
“Camilla!” he called out.
The cries ahead of him of “Lovely!” grew fainter. Camilla was clearly running headlong into the dark without care. Rory redoubled his efforts to catch up with her.
Rory got to the fence line, but was greeted by a gaping hole. Timbers had been shattered and pushed aside. Rory’s heart froze. The banshees had been inside the pasture.
But the tracks in the snow were of hoof and foot, and led out, beyond the fence. Either the banshees had gotten into the pasture before the snowfall, or they had turned back after destroying it due to the lights in the windows.
Either way, Camilla and Lovely were outside the fence line, and Camilla was his first concern. No one else knew where she was; it was up to Rory to find her and bring her home safely. Rory would let the grooms and his father’s staff worry about any banshees that might have gotten inside.
Citadels of Darkover Page 8
