Icestorm

by Theresa Dahlheim

  She heard the carriage driver call out, and as she peeked around the shade over the little window, a horse hurried past. She could not tell who was riding it, but whoever it was spoke to the carriage driver briefly before trotting ahead. Deciding that it was too dark for anyone to see her being unladylike, she lifted the shade, unclipped the window, and slid the glass down so she could poke her head outside.

  “Can you see anything?” Pamela asked immediately.

  “No.” Which was not really true, but she did not know how to explain what she was seeing. There was light ahead, glowing above and below a thick straight line of darkness. She heard the lap of water and realized that she was seeing the city of Tiaulon itself, the glow of its streetlamps shining in the air above the black stripe of the wall and also shining in the River Libou below that wall. They crested a small rise, and she saw torches burning at a stone house, which moments later resolved into the guardhouse at the near end of a very large stone bridge. Behind it sat smaller torches and smaller buildings, perhaps a little village. As the carriage slowed, Tabitha pulled back behind the shade so no one would see her hanging out the window like a little boy.

  “Are we there?” Pamela whispered when the carriage stopped.

  “Shh.” Tabitha was trying to listen to Lord Daniel, who was now talking to the men at the guardhouse. She could not tell what was happening, but the conversation stretched long, and then she heard a horse clop past her carriage and her father’s voice raised: “Explain this delay.”

  One of her father’s dogs barked just as an unfamiliar voice gave a garbled answer. “Yes, I know about them,” her father said. After the voice gave another long string of garbled sentences, her father said, “Enough. Come with us and tell them yourself.” The voice said something else, but her father interrupted, louder and sharper: “Now, sir. As you say, it is late.”

  Tabitha’s carriage lurched forward and started up the bridge arch. The cards slid off the shelf, and Pamela grabbed the candle in its glass so it would not follow. The stones made the horses’ hooves clatter and the carriage rattle, and the steep ascent and descent pressed Tabitha backward and forward uncomfortably in her seat. Eventually they stopped, which Tabitha took to mean that they had reached the city gate. The unfamiliar voice from the guardhouse shouted, and more unfamiliar voices shouted back. Tabitha leaned close to the window and strained to hear, holding up her hand at Pamela when Pamela seemed about to say something.

  Something creaked open, maybe a door or a window, and another unfamiliar voice said, “My apologies, your Grace. I am the commander of the gate. You should know the situation first.”

  “Yes?” Tabitha’s father said impatiently.

  “The second round of executions took place earlier today, your Grace, and there were riots. There are more heretics in the city than we anticipated.”

  Tabitha’s heart skipped. The new king was supposed to have wiped out the heretics in a battle near the White Sea weeks ago. There should not have been any heretics or any rioting. But her father said impatiently, “Your man told us. He also said it has all been put down.”

  “Yes, your Grace, but the king remains concerned about public safety. It would be better to keep your people outside the city tonight.”

  “Were they armed?”

  “Your Grace?”

  “The heretics in the riots. Were they armed?”

  “They always have shovels, your Grace.”

  “Then I will risk it.” Tabitha’s father’s voice was heavy with sarcasm. “Open the gate.”

  Tabitha heard the huff of a frustrated breath from the guard commander. “Your Grace, my orders are from the king.”

  “Did he order the gates barred or sealed?”

  After a pause, the guard commander admitted, “Barred, your Grace.”

  Tabitha did not know the difference, but her father sounded like he had won the argument when he said, “Then exercise your own judgment, sir. We are going to the Palace Ward, which I trust is heavily patrolled. I can convey my people safely to my house.”

  “Your Grace—”

  “Especially since most of my men have swords.”

  There was another pause, and then the guard commander said calmly, “Yes, your Grace,” as if he no longer had any interest in the matter. He called out something, and Tabitha heard creaking and clanking as, presumably, the city gates opened. The light flared somewhat brighter outside the window, and with a lurch, her carriage started forward again. The creaking and clanking did not pause at all as they passed, and Tabitha suspected that they had not even opened the gate all the way before starting to close it again after them.

  “There are a lot of people,” Pamela commented softly, her eyes in the candlelight even wider than usual.

  “Outside? There should not be. The king must have cleared the streets.” But somehow she could feel people around her, feel how much bigger Tiaulon was than Betaul Town. As on the bridge, the stones on the street made the horses’ hooves clatter and the carriage rattle, but if she tried, she could also hear human noises from the buildings that seemed to be close on both sides. She had not spent much time riding through Betaul Town, and never at night, but in her experience, that murmur of talking, laughing, and music usually came from inns. “There are more travelers than usual because of the coronation,” she explained. “They are staying up late because they are excited.”

  “But are they not frightened that the heretics will start another riot?”

  Tabitha hesitated. Would the people be so at ease if the heretics were dangerous? Or were they not at ease? Were they just trying to forget the danger?

  No. “There is no reason to be frightened. If the heretics were dangerous my father would not have insisted that the guardsmen open the gates for us.” That was obviously the truth.

  Pamela bit her lip, then turned around and knocked on the sliding panel that opened under the driver’s seat. Tabitha rolled her eyes as Pamela asked the driver to ask Lord Daniel to come to the window. It was so annoying. Ever since Lord Daniel had formally proposed to her at Beatris’s wedding feast last month, Pamela had become very clingy and giggly around him, and she wanted his opinion on everything.

  When they heard a tap against the side of the window, Pamela instantly lifted the shade. Tabitha glanced at the sleeping Lise in order to ignore Lord Daniel as he looked into the carriage from his horse. He and Pamela whispered together for too long, and then he withdrew and Pamela hurried to close the window. He had probably told her to do that.

  “He said it’s not much further,” she reported.

  “Did he say anything useful?”

  “He said we should not worry.”

  Tabitha thought that deserved yet another roll of the eyes, but Pamela did not see her because she blew out the candle. Lord Daniel had probably told her to do that too, so she had, despite the fact that Tabitha did not like sitting in the dark.

  The carriage turned and slowed, and the buildings seemed to press even closer around them. The sound of the horses’ hooves and the carriage’s wheels echoed less, but the sound of people celebrating increased overhead. Balconies? At that moment something bounced off the roof of the carriage, and Tabitha jumped.

  “What was that?” Pamela whispered.

  “Nothing.” A pebble, maybe. It was not anything to worry about. She wished she could see.

  The heretics are in the city. Her father hated them, and she was beginning to hate them too. Why were they here? Did they have nothing better to do? Most of them were peasants, so they should be planting crops, right? It was now more than halfway to summer, and she was sure that the peasants should be doing something other than causing riots in the city.

  The horses’ hooves clattered more noisily, and Tabitha guessed that they had emerged onto a larger street. Were they almost there? She heard her father, ahead of them, call a single sharp word, and the carriage moved faster.

  Suddenly something hit the carriage door, and Tabitha and Pamela both cried out.
Dogs barked as shouting erupted on the street, and panic wrapped Tabitha tightly, shuddering along her skin. She heard a cry and a thump, more shouts, and the carriage lurched to a stop. What was happening? It was so dark and she could not see!

  “Get back!” It was her father’s voice, strong and harsh, cutting over the shouts and the noises of horses and dogs. “Out of the way! Now!”

  “Take them!” someone shouted, and other rough voices repeated it. Tabitha’s hands clawed against her seat as if she could find something there to stop her shaking, and an icy cold itch gripped the back of her neck. She heard the clash of steel against steel and then a scream of pain.

  “Stop!” That was her father again. “Stop! Stop. No need for this. Let us pass.”

  How many people were out there? How many heretics? They had to be heretics and there had to be a lot of them. Let us pass, she prayed. Let us pass!

  “Bastards!” someone cried, and someone else: “The king will not ignore us!”

  “He will not ignore this!” her father answered. “You will let us pass.”

  Let us pass let us pass let us pass let us pass!

  The carriage moved forward, just enough for Tabitha to realize it had moved before it stopped again. The dogs kept barking until her father silenced them with a sharp word. Then he raised his voice again. “Listen to me! I am the Duke of Betaul. We have no argument with you. But if you interfere with us, you will see more deaths today. This is not a threat but a fact.”

  Something bumped the carriage again, but gently. A horse? Her father’s guardsmen had surrounded the carriage, she realized.

  “No!” a different voice shouted. “If all we can—”

  His words were lost to Tabitha, and her father shouted, “There will be fewer when this is done! Are you willing to risk your lives?”

  “Always!” several people shouted at once, and a horse bumped the carriage again. “We must!” a single voice went on. “We have nothing else!”

  “You still have families!” the duke reminded them. A roar answered this, and Tabitha seized the edge of her seat so hard her nails dug into it. Listen to him, she prayed. Listen to him. Listen to him. Listen to him!

  “I know what has happened!” her father was telling them now. “I know that you mean to honor Corl and Benuen.”

  Listen to him. Listen to him.

  “I know how they were executed.”

  Listen to him. Listen to him.

  “It was cruel. It was shameful.”

  Listen to him. Listen to him.

  Over and over she silently repeated it, focusing all her mind on it, losing track of her father’s words as he kept speaking to the crowd. Listen to him. Listen to him. A fierce, horrible itch spread over her skin, but she just as fiercely ignored it. Listen to him. Listen to him.

  The carriage moved, and Tabitha gasped. She covered her mouth because she could not hear anything from outside. Her father was not speaking anymore, and the only way she knew the crowd was still out there was that she could feel them. The carriage was moving slowly forward, the wheels squeaking, the horses’ hooves clopping, the harnesses creaking. Let us pass. Let us pass. Her skin was on fire with itching and she dug her nails under the cuffs of her sleeves to scratch. Let us pass. Let us pass.

  The carriage kept moving. She could smell the horses surrounding it. She heard Pamela whisper something to Lise. “Quiet!” she hissed at them, and was afraid she had been too loud.

  Something changed in the sounds around them. They were no longer in an open area. The horses seemed to press even closer to the carriage, and Tabitha guessed that they had entered a side street or alley. She could hear some of the guardsmen murmuring to each other, and one of the dogs yipped when it heard a cat yowl in the distance. She heard laughter up ahead, cut off quickly, as if a door had opened and shut. Were they safe? Had any of the heretics followed them? She did not think so. She wished it was not so dark.

  The itch on her skin faded, but a headache took its place, and she suddenly felt very tired. The carriage continued steadily forward, and the sounds of a crowded city rose around them once more. Some streets were quieter than others, but no one challenged them or called to them as they rode through. They had to be close to her father’s house by now.

  “Your Grace!”

  Tabitha sat up straight. The voice was loud and officious, and she could hear the shuffle of many feet. Don’t stop us. Don’t stop us! Itch and headache seized hold of her together and she had to bite back a scream. She heard the dogs whining.

  “Sir knight,” her father said. It sounded like he was just ahead of the carriage, which was now slowing to a stop. By his voice, he was making it obvious that he was carefully controlling his outrage. “Thank God you have arrived.”

  “You ran into trouble in the Candle Ward, your Grace?”

  “Nothing I could not handle.” Disdain dripped from his words. “I imagine your patrol never took you out of the Palace Ward, or you would have dispersed the mob, correct?”

  “Of course, your Grace, we would have, of course. Your Grace, if you would follow us, we will see you safely to your home.”

  “Thank you very much, sir knight,” her father said, and one of the dogs barked again.

  This is what he meant, she realized. Her father had respected the old king, but he had called the new king “callous”. This king had kept his guardsmen in the Palace Ward to protect himself, instead of sending them out to patrol all the streets and make them all safe.

  She realized that it should not surprise her. The new king had shown himself to be callous even before this. When the old king had died, the new king had notified her father that he would never approve a marriage involving Tabitha and any foreign prince. He had even dismissed Lord Warrich from his service as Telgardia’s ambassador to Thendalia. With a few strokes of his quill and without a care, he had killed Tabitha’s last small hope.

  The carriage rolled forward. No one spoke, not her father’s men, not the royal soldiers, not even Pamela. Eventually Tabitha began to hear the lapping of water. Were they riding beside the river? Her father had told her that their mansion had its own dock, so were they almost there? She heard a creak and a low rattle ahead, and the knight’s voice. “We will take leave of you here, your Grace.”

  Her father did not answer, and Tabitha imagined him waving his hand in dismissal. The carriage wheels rolled from cobblestones to packed earth. She could see bits of torchlight around the shaded window, and she heard the bustling of servants taking charge of the horses and dogs. The heavy gate clanged shut behind them. The carriage door opened, and the torchlight revealed Lord Daniel, whose face wore what was likely meant to be a reassuring smile. He helped Lise get out first, and then Pamela, who immediately latched onto his arm and pressed her cheek to his shoulder. He murmured something to her as Tabitha’s father came up to the carriage and looked inside, his expression as calmly serious as ever. Tabitha nodded to his unspoken question, although she did not really feel normal yet. Her headache surged as she rose from her seat.

  “Thank you, m’lord,” Lise said to Tabitha’s father. She so rarely spoke without being spoken to that they all looked at her in surprise. “You saved us.” She curtseyed, and Tabitha could see that she was trembling and her wide forehead was covered in sweat. It was a shock, since Lise was always so composed.

  “Yes, your Grace,” Pamela said, also curtseying before taking Lord Daniel’s arm in both hands again. “Thank you.”

  “It was well done, sir,” Lord Daniel said.

  But her father was shaking his head. “It should not have worked,” he said gruffly as he reached for Tabitha’s hand.

  “But it did, sir.”

  “We are very lucky they decided to listen. I should never have let them surround us. I must be getting senile.”

  “Sir,” Lord Daniel started to protest, but Tabitha swayed as she stepped down from the carriage and her father had to catch both of her hands to keep her from falling. She was so tired, an
d she just wanted to go inside and lie down.

  “Mistress Florain,” her father called across the yard, and led Tabitha a few steps before passing her to a tall woman with a long, thin nose, who put her arm around Tabitha’s shoulders to support her.

  “There, my lady, all is well. I am Mistress Florain, your new governess.” She had a White Sea accent like Nan’s. “Come along to your new chambers. You are safe now.”

  Tabitha had to force her leaden legs forward. A servant with a lantern walked ahead of them, and it seemed a long time before they passed under a lintel and her steps fell on marble tiles. Then came the stairs, which almost hurt to climb. She could not remember ever feeling so weary in her life. She had never spent so many days traveling, and she had never thought sitting still for so long could take so much energy out of her. When they reached the landing, they still were not done. “Much further?” she asked faintly.

  “Not much, my lady,” the governess assured her. But she lied, because Tabitha took many more steps before the governess stopped at a chair. “Here, my lady, sit down and we will get those shoes off.”

  “Are these our chambers?” Pamela asked from behind them, sounding exactly as chattery as she usually did, and not even upset by the heretics anymore. “These draperies are so pretty!”

  “This is the sitting room,” the governess explained as Lise knelt in front of Tabitha to unlace her ankle boots. “Through that door is Lady Tabitha’s chamber. My lady, I was told that you prefer to have no one else in the room when you sleep. Is that correct?”

  Tabitha nodded.

  “Then, Lady Pamela, you and I will be sharing that room over there.”

  Pamela apparently went to investigate, because her voice came from a distance. “I love the colors! Is this my wardrobe? No, it’s yours. This is mine. Tabitha, come and see!”