Lightnings Daughter

by Mary H. Herbert

  Piers watched her go. He understood the fears she faced and the uncertainties with which she wrestled. He knew how much her love for Athlone and her friendship for Sayyed were troubling her. He just wished she would talk to him about all of it. He might not have the right advice---how could you advise a sorceress? Yet he could listen and be a friend if she needed one. He knew more about her than anyone else alive.

  Piers shook his head and began to bank the fire. Perhaps he had been foolish sitting out here in the damp, waiting for her to come back to camp and talk to him. As much as he knew about Gabria, there was so much more he did not know. In the strange, difficult year since her clan's massacre, she had learned the skil of reticence, to keep her own counsel, and to do as she decided on her own. Those were traits she had acquired to survive.

  The healer went to his tent and crawled into his warm coverings. No, he decided, the waiting was not wasted. His gesture told Gabria he was there if she needed him, and he knew her wel enough to realize she would be grateful for that.

  * * * * *

  The travelers broke camp the next morning in a haze of golden sunshine. High clouds dotted the deep blue sky, and a light wind whisked the leafing trees.

  Bregan had had a restless night. The old warrior was stiff and aching from his fall, and he grumbled under his breath as he helped load the packhorses. He tried not to look grief-stricken when the other men brought in their mounts to be saddled.

  Athlone watched stonily from the back of his gray stallion. His dark eyes were ringed from lack of sleep, and his mouth was drawn tight with a hidden sadness. The shadow of his morning beard made his face look gaunt.

  Gabria watched him with mingled sadness and regret. The pain of their argument still ached in her mind. Yet when Sayyed, who deftly read the expression on her face, winked at her, she could not help but smile.

  She looked over the rest of her companions as they mounted. The group was heavily armed, dirty, travel-worn, and weary. They looked more like a rabble of thieves and exiles than a nobleman and the finest of the powerful Khulinin clan. Gabria hoped the Reidhar were in a generous mood that day.

  She pushed down her nervousness and rode Nara in behind Piers's mare. Keth, carrying Bregan behind him, and the other riders fell in line with Athlone. The travelers left the caravan road and struck northeast at an easy canter. If all went well, they would be at Reidhar Treld by midday.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The day blossomed into a glorious, warm spring afternoon as the travelers followed the faint trail that led to Reidhar Treld. The land was much like Clan Jehanan's holdings: gently rolling hills, patches of woods, open meadows, and lush val eys. Like the Jehanan, the Reidhar had their winter camp near the sea, but unlike their neighbors to the south, the Reidhar had given up many of the ancient nomadic ways and were turning more often to the water. Year by year their herds of horses dwindled and more and more of the clanspeople chose to stay at the treld during the summer to fish the teeming waters of the inland sea or mine the rich veins of copper in the hills nearby. More than any other clan, the Reidhar had lost the ways of Valorian.

  Evidence of the changing social patterns were quite visible to Gabria as Nara crested a ridge that looked down over the Reidhar settlement. She had never visited the Reidhar clan at their treld, so the differences between her own clan and this one were startling. The Corins had been a smal group and one of the most nomadic of the twelve original clans. The Reidhar clan was larger, and its roots went deep into the place they cal ed home. A huge, ornately decorated stone hall graced the center of the treld, and many stone buildings replaced the usual tents. There were permanent structures housing the clan artisans, as well as storehouses and barns. A wide, shallow stream meandered down the valley's center, past the meager herds of stock animals, and flowed a short distance to the sea.

  From her vantage point, Gabria could look down the val ey to where the creek flowed between two gentle bluffs and tumbled out to a white beach. Even from the ridge, she could see the boat sheds, drying racks, and docks that crowded the sands. Beyond those, the smal fleet of tiny fishing boats bobbed on the sparkling water.

  "No wonder their horses are such poor beasts," Keth, the warrior in front of Bregan, said aloud.

  "The clan is nothing but a bunch of fisher folk."

  "They can stil fight, so keep a civil tongue in your head," Athlone reminded him sharply.

  "They couldn't last summer," the warrior muttered.

  Lord Athlone ignored him. Fisher folk or no, the Reidhar were still clan and kindred in blood and spirit, and despite Lord Caurus's refusal to fight Lord Medb the year before, Athlone felt that the Reidhar still deserved the respect due any clan. Lord Caurus was a great warrior and fiercely devoted to his people. It was not cowardice that had forced him to leave that disastrous gathering, it was his own independent nature and an unfortunate distrust of the Khulinin.

  Athlone nodded to his companions, and the party rode downhil toward the busy treld. On a rise nearby, an outrider drew a horn and sounded a warning to the camp below. At the edge of the treld, another rider left his post and galloped down the valley to find the chieftain. By the time Gabria and her party reached the fringe of the encampment, Lord Caurus and his hearthguard were gathered on horseback in the middle of the path. Behind them clustered other warriors and clansmen, until the entire way was blocked. Their faces were wary as Athlone and Bregan spurred their horses forward to meet Lord Caurus.

  The Reidhar chieftain was obviously startled by Lord Athlone's sudden, unexpected arrival at his treld. Caurus made no attempt to hide his suspicious, angry expression, but he remembered enough of his manners to greet Athlone first. He raised his hand. "Hail, Khulinin. Welcome to Reidhar Treld."

  "Greetings, Lord Caurus," Athlone replied evenly. He eyed the heavily armed men around the chief.

  "This doesn't look like much of a welcome. Were you expecting someone else?"

  "We were expecting no one. Least of al you."

  Athlone shrugged. "I did not have time to send messengers. Our mission is urgent. We had not planned to stop, but we are in need of supplies and extra horses."

  "We have no extra horses,” Caurus said belligerently.

  The Khulinin chief clicked his tongue. "Lord Caurus, do I need to remind you of the dictums of clan hospitality? Just last spring you were rumored to be the most generous host in the clans. Have you forgotten in one short year?"

  "I have not forgotten." Caurus shifted in his saddle, his ruddy face wary. "You are welcome, Lord Athlone, but we cannot al ow that sorceress to enter our treld."

  With difficulty, Athlone swallowed his rising anger and stared coolly at the red-haired chieftain.

  "Why not, Caurus? She has been welcomed by other clans. We wil not leave her at the edge of camp."

  "We are about to celebrate our Birthright ceremony. If that heretic were to enter our treld, Amara would curse our clan forever."

  The other Reidhar warriors muttered in agreement. The clan wer-tain kicked his horse forward and deliberately dropped his hand to his sword hilt.

  Inwardly, Athlone groaned. He had expected reluctance and suspicion, but not outright refusal. It was their bad luck to have arrived so close to the clan's Birthright ceremonies.

  "Gabria,” Athlone called over his shoulder. "Come here and bring the foal."

  The startled Reidhar fell back a step, and a hint of fear passed over Caurus's face as Gabria rode Nara forward to stand by Athlone. The colt and Eurus came with her.

  A long moment passed before anyone spoke. The men of the Reidhar stared in open amazement at the fair woman and the magnificent black horses.

  Finally Athlone asked, "Would Amara bless Gabria and her Hunnuli with a healthy colt if she were displeased?" His tone was deceptively pleasant.

  This possibility stunned Lord Caurus. His face grew as red as his hair as he snuggled to find a solution to the dilemma Athlone had thrust on him. He never imagined the sorceress could be anything but evil.
And yet, if that were true, how could she now have three Hunnuli, one a baby? The Hunnuli despised evil and avoided it at all costs. Still . . .

  Caurus suddenly threw up his hands in disgust. "The sorceress and her Hunnuli may stay. But, " he glared at all of the party "only for one night."

  Athlone barely nodded in reply. "Your generosity is overwhelming."

  The Reidhar wer-tain slammed his fist on his sword. "Lord Caurus, you cannot allow this!" he shouted. "That . . . female is a magic-wielder! I don't care how many Hunnuli tag after her, she's a profaning heretic. The goddess will never forgive us for bringing her into camp."

  "Gringold,” Caurus said in annoyance, "I have made my decision. Abide by it!"

  "As wer-tain of this clan, I cannot let her evil endanger our people."

  "And as chieftain of this clan, it is my decision to make,” Lord Caurus thundered. "I wil not dishonor the Reidhar by refusing aid to another chieftain."

  With a snarl on his lips, the wer-tain backed down, but he savagely reined his horse over to Nara and leaned forward, his eyes blazing like a wolf's. The wer-tain was a big man with heavy muscles and the overbearing attitude of a bully. He bore the scars of many battles and carried a full array of warrior's weapons.

  Nara pinned her ears back and snorted a warning. Gabria remained still, her expression cool and unruffled as the wer-tain shook his fist at her.

  "Lord Caurus has given you one night, Sorceress. If you do anything that reeks of magic, I'll slit your throat."

  "Thank you, Wer-tain Gringold, for your gracious welcome," Gabria said with all the politeness she could muster.

  "Gringold," Caurus snapped. "Return to the treld and prepare quarters for our guests."

  They al breathed a sigh of relief when the wer-tain saluted his lord, spurred his horse away, and disappeared into the treld.

  A very dangerous man, Gabria thought to herself. Her mouth tightened to a thin line, and she sadly remembered the Jehanan. She knew full well the Reidhar would never offer her companions a welcome like the one Sha Umar's clan had provided.

  She was quite right. Escorted by Lord Caurus and the warriors of the clan, Gabria and her party were led through the treld to the stone huts at the edge of the camp that were used to house guests.

  The huts were cold, damp, and sparsely furnished with a few cots and a fireplace. As soon as the party reached the huts, the Reidhar left them for the rest of the afternoon. No one came to talk, offer wine, or bring food or firewood, and no one brought blankets or the barest necessities due to a guest. The Reidhar blatantly ignored them all.

  After a while, Piers found the clan healer and talked him into giving them enough firewood to light a fire in one of the huts. Two warriors, Secen and Keth, filled the water skins at the stream, and Gabria and Sayyed unpacked the bedrol s. After a great deal of trouble and effort, Athlone and Bregan found a trader willing to deal for several horses.

  The trader was from Calah and spent his time traveling the plains and dealing in horseflesh. He had stopped at Reidhar Treld for a few days and had been disappointed with the trade so far. He was pleased to barter with the Khulinin for their pure-blooded Harachan.

  Several hours later, Athlone and Bregan returned to the guest huts with three new horses. Lord Athlone was pleased with the deal, for the trader had taken the three Khulinin pack horses in an even exchange for three Calah horses. Athlone knew the trader had gotten the best deal, because the clan horses had better breeding and training and only needed a little rest and food to be back in shape. Stil , the Calah horses were sturdy, strong, healthy, and available. Even Bregan had not been displeased. He had chosen a black gelding with long legs for his mount.

  It was dusk by the time Athlone and Bregan had settled and fed the horses and made their way to the huts. Both of them were hungry and looking forward .to the evening meal. By the unwritten clan code of hospitality, it was the chieftain's duty to feed his guests. If the guest was a visiting lord, then he and his escort were always invited to share the host chief’s meals. Thus Athlone ful y expected an invitation to Caurus's evening meal awaiting him when he returned. But when he inquired about it, Piers shook his head.

  "My lord," the healer replied, "there is neither food nor a message from Caurus. We are as good as forgotten."

  "This insult shal not be ignored," Athlone snarled. He slammed his sword and scabbard on a cot beside him. "Remove your weapons," he told his men. "We are going to the hall to eat with Lord Caurus.

  All of us." He waited impatiently while Sayyed and the warriors left their swords, bows, and daggers on the cots. Slowly the chief brought his temper under control. It would not help their problems if his fury got the best of him.

  When everyone was ready, he nodded once to his men and turned to Gabria. She was standing by the fire dressed in her long skirt and over-tunic. He was surprised to see she was wearing the armband he had given her and carrying her jeweled dagger in a scabbard under the sash of her skirt.

  "Caurus may not feed you if I come,” she said. Her words were spoken half in jest, but her eyes were shadowed with worry.

  "Caurus wil have no choice," Athlone retorted. He crossed his arms, and his lips curved upward in a harsh smile. "I'm sure he has done this deliberately to show his anger at me for bringing you to his treld.

  The clans will never learn to accept magic-wielders if we let chieftains like Caurus get away with these insults."

  Gabria looked at his face, and for a moment she saw something there she had never noticed before. That cold, calculating smile was exactly like his father's. Lord Savaric had been a deliberate, control ed, cunning man who had often harnessed his anger to fire his actions. He had always sought for ways to turn difficulties to his advantage.

  Gabria sighed to herself. Athlone was going to need every scrap of his father's wiles and self-control tonight.

  The treld was peaceful as the travelers left their hut and walked down the path toward the hall. The sun had dropped below the hil s, leaving the plains to the approaching night. The smells of cooking food and wood smoke mingled in the treld with the usual smells of animals and people.

  As the party approached the chieftain's hal , Bregan took the lead and the other hearthguard warriors gathered around their lord. Piers, Khan'di, and Sayyed drew close to Gabria. Without asking to enter, they walked past the startled guards and strode under the flapping yel ow banner above the doors into the large stone hall.

  Lord Caurus, his wer-tain, a few hearthguard, and several bachelors were grouped around a long, wooden table near the center of the hal . Caurus's wife, Lady Maril, and two girls were busy serving the men from a platter of roast meats and a kettle of stewed vegetables.

  The entire group fell silent as the Khulinin chief and his companions entered the hal . Lord Caurus, for once, went very pale.

  "Forgive me, Caurus," Athlone said, his voice amiable. "We seem to be late."

  There was nothing for the Reidhar to do, short of openly insulting the Khulinin, so he accepted the party's presence. With an ill-tempered look and a grudging gesture, Lord Caurus ordered the bachelors to another table and had places cleared for Athlone and his party. Lady Maril hastily set eating knives and plates for the guests and poured wine. The Reidhar warriors did not utter a word.

  The serving girls brought more meat and vegetables and laid out baskets with thick slabs of bread.

  Gabria thought the meal would have been quite good if the silence and tension had not been so palpable. As it was, she found it very difficult to ignore the hostile looks of her hosts. Even Lady Maril, who sat beside her lord to eat her meal, remained grimly quiet.

  Finally, the silence became too much for Lord Caurus. He pushed away his platter and said to Athlone, "I heard you found some spare horses."

  Athlone continued to eat for a few minutes before he answered. "Ah, yes. A trader from Calah had a few strong horses he was willing to part with. Unfortunately, he only had three. The rest of the stock we saw was quite poor." He t
ook a bite of bread and did not bother to look at Lord Caurus.

  Caurus colored slightly and leaned back in his carved chair. "Your horses seem weary. You have been traveling fast?"

  Athlone nodded. "As fast as we could." He was not going to give this ill-mannered boor the satisfaction of an easy answer. He gestured to a girl for another helping of meat.

  "Your business must be urgent."

  "Yes,” the Khulinin chief replied casually.

  "Where are you going?" Caurus pressed.

  "Hunting."

  At the other end of the table, Sayyed choked back a laugh, and Caurus turned fiercely on him. "And you, Turic, what are you doing with clansmen?"

  The young tribesman stood up and bowed. "I am Sayyed Raid-Ja, son of Dultar of Sharja. I am traveling the Ramtharin Plains to compare the hospitality of the clans."

  "And you, Pra Deshian,” Caurus rapped at Khan'di.

  "Where are you going?"

  The stocky nobleman raised and lowered his eyebrows as if he had just been asked a stupid question. "With them," he said, waving his hand at the table in general.

  "I see." Caurus twisted his mustache in anger. His expression was thunderous, and white showed around the edges of his mouth. He felt it was bad enough that the Khulinin had come without warning, stampeding through his camp with their sorceress in tow, and now they wouldn't even tel him about their journey.

  "By the way,” Athlone broke in pleasantly, "we still need a few supplies. Trail food. A new water bag. Grain. Some leather to repair our tack."

  "To go hunting,” Caurus said sarcastically.

  Wer-tain Gringold suddenly slammed his eating knife on the table. "Lord, I wouldn't give them a used horseshoe."

  "We don't need horseshoes,” said Bregan as reasonably as he could manage.

  The wer-tain turned to the Khulinin beside him and studied Bregan for a moment until a flicker of recognition lit in his narrow eyes. He curled his lip. "It's a good thing your chief is only going hunting.