“Rather you should tell me. Things happened rather quickly once the ground under the infirmary started to collapse.” Loryn sounded weary, his voice on the edge of hoarseness.
It did not take long for each of them to tell their separate stories, although Varzil left out the moments with Felicia in the Overworld. If Loryn sensed the omission, he refrained from any mention of it. Some things were too private to be shared, even in the intimacy of a Tower.
The spells of unbinding that Hali had used on Hestral’s foundations had stopped immediately and some of the damage had reversed itself. Even so, much could not be undone. The entire dormitory wing had become dangerously unstable and would have to be torn down and rebuilt in a different location. Other structures could be reinforced, given time and the use of matrix technology.
The human loss could not be so easily replaced. Five people were dead or missing. Eduin’s body had not been found. He’d been confined to his own chambers in the dormitory wing, but his rooms had suffered only minor damage. In the confusion of the attack, it was not impossible that he could have slipped away, rather than face the charges against him.
“If Eduin still lives, I doubt any of us will hear of him again,” Loryn said. “He may have deceived us in other ways, but there was never any doubt of his instinct for survival. I fear you were right about him. His treachery was my responsibility as Keeper. I was too tolerant, too trusting.”
“Do not judge yourself harshly,” Varzil replied. “It is hardly a moral imperfection to see the good in other men. If Eduin deceived you, he deceived us all. Whatever he did, it was from his own will and choice, and not because any of us failed to stop him.”
Loryn’s voice faltered as he told of their efforts to excavate the little cellar.
“We tried. Varzil, we tried.” Fingertips, dry and trembling, brushed the back of Varzil’s wrist.
Varzil opened his mouth to answer and found that he could not breathe. He drew his hand away, clasping it in the other, and touched the faceted edge of the ring gem. It felt warm. Long after Loryn had left and the stillness of night enclosed him, he lay on his cot, one hand cupping the ring.
As he drifted off to sleep, a delicate white haze misted over his inner vision, like the rays of a flawless star against the velvet sky.
His heard ached past any words. It was natural to grieve, he told himself, to honor loved ones in their passing. He remembered her words,
“It is not lily days which shape our souls, but the frozen winter nights, when we find ourselves in the pit of Zandru’s Forge and discover who we truly are.”
Like a clay pot placed in a fire, like a tree that has weathered a killing ice-storm, he had not come unscathed through this time. It had shaped him, for good or for ill, and defined who he was. What he did with it, what he made of his life, that was now up to him.
BOOK IV
46
Lifting his eyes, Carolin searched the dawn sky, misty with the promise of rain. High summer had come to the Kilghard Hills, although frost still lay on the ground in the morning. Carolin, walking the camps and meeting with his captains, felt a subtle lightening of heart, as if, with the change of seasons, some deep and fundamental shift had begun.
With his laran, he sensed the building excitement in the men who marched under his banner, their passion and loyalty, the pattern of their myriad individual stories. Intelligence came from Hali that Rakhal was massing forces under Lyondri Hastur. If he moved as expected, Carolin would at last meet him, near Neskaya here in these hills.
This morning, Orain accompanied him to meet with representatives from the Sisterhood of the Sword, many of whom had pledged themselves to his cause. He had hoped to see Jandria, who had left Rakhal’s court to pierce her ear and don the red vest of a Swordswoman, and he was not disappointed. She waited for him beside one of her Sisters.
Carolin’s heart rose as he recognized the young woman who had traveled with him to Nevarsin under the name of Rumal. They had parted company shortly thereafter; he had not expected to see her here. She had clearly prospered, for her features no longer bore an expression of haunted desperation. Her tunic and breeches were well-made and even her boots looked the right size, not some boy’s outworn castoffs. She kept her eyes downcast; either she had not recognized her old friend, Dom Carlo of Blue Lake, or was too shy to say anything.
She held the reins of the most magnificent horse Carolin had ever seen. The stallion was clearly of the same breeding as his old Longlegs, and she had been a fine mount. This fellow was taller and more powerfully built, with intelligent eyes and a mirror-glossy coat. He nuzzled the girl’s shoulder as if they were old friends.
“You lend us grace.” Jandria bowed politely to Carolin, and went on to present the horse as a gift from the Sisterhood, trained by their finest horsewoman, “Romilly?”
Romilly? Ah, so that is her real name.
Romilly blushed, keeping her eyes fixed upon the horse’s sleek nose. “His name is Sunstar, Your Majesty, and he will carry you for love, for he has never felt whip or spur.”
Yes, that is just how Rumal—how Romilly would train a horse.
When he spoke those same words aloud, her head jerked up. Her eyes widened in recognition and he smiled as gently as he could. “I am sorry to have the advantage of you. I thank you and the Sisterhood for this magnificent gift and for your loyalty.”
He swung up on the stallion’s back and the horse moved off willingly, with no more than a nudge from his knees. Romilly must have trained him with her laran as well as bridle and saddle, for the animal seemed to sense what he wanted without any need for direction.
On such a tall, fine horse, Carolin towered above the men on foot. Their eyes followed him through the camp. He wanted them to see him and know that he was here with them, not closeted away behind stone walls.
It was not until late in the day that Carolin had a chance to meet with the leronyn who had left their Towers to join him. At his request, they presented themselves to the central tent, adorned with the silver-and-blue fir tree banner of the Hasturs. Ranald Ridenow had already been acting as one of his officers. Two more had just arrived from Tramontana Tower—Ruyven MacAran, Romilly’s own brother ... and Maura.
Ruyven was clearly a MacAran; he and Romilly bore the same unmistakable features. In his dark, unadorned robe, he looked as somber and ascetic as a monk.
Maura bowed to Carolin with the exact degree of reverence for a lord and king from a leronis whose skill is beyond question. She wore a gown of pearly gray-green, and her hair, as bright as any flame, was braided and coiled low on her neck.
Recovering his speech, Carolin thanked them both. They sat together, refusing his offer of wine, and discussed the flying of the sentry birds. Knowledge of the exact location and strength of Rakhal’s forces could make a crucial difference when they actually clashed. Forewarned, Carolin might chose his own battlefield, using the land itself as his ally. Perhaps, if the gods willed it, there would be fewer lives lost.
Ruyven must have caught Carolin’s thought, for he said, “If we can come upon them unawares, or force them to charge at us uphill, then our smaller numbers may prevail.”
“May Evanda grant they have no sentry birds to spy on us in return,” Maura said.
Carolin said, “We have received no reports of any others from here to the far Hellers.”
“That is good,” Ruyven replied. “By your leave, vai dom, Ranald and I will link with you, so that you may see for yourself how the land lies.”
Carolin nodded. The troops were his to lead, their victory or death upon his head. His training at Arilinn made such a linkage possible.
“Romilly will fly that bird,” Maura added, “and I the other.”
Carolin smiled. “Then my bird will fly true, for I never saw anyone, man or maid, with a surer touch.”
Ruyven rose and, bowing more deeply this time, took his leave. “If we are to fly the birds tomorrow, we must be well rested.”
Maura sat quietly as the do
or flap fell closed. Outside, guards shifted, watchful. Dark had fallen, but the lantern filled the tent chamber with honey-soft light.
Carolin could not think of what to say. In an instant, he had gone from king and general, leader of armies, protector of his realm, to a man bereft of even the simplest speech.
As if catching his confusion, she lowered her eyes. “I do not know what you must think of me, to have turned my back on Rakhal in this way.”
“Why are you here, Maura?” The words tumbled from his mouth. “If you felt you could not take sides in the war, surely you could have been excused from your duties and returned home to your family. You need not have come all this way—and placed yourself at such risk.”
“I have sworn not to fight against Rakhal.” Gray fire flashed behind her eyes. “It was a condition of my release from his service, and I must honor that promise. I could not have done otherwise, for he would have forced me to go against you. Now that I have seen what he truly is, or what he has made of himself, I cannot remain apart. Whatever happens now, Rakhal has brought it upon himself, he and Lyondri both!”
She paused, her chest heaving, then quieted herself. “I came because my conscience would give me no rest if I did not. You must regain the throne, not simply for your own sake, but for that of all these lands.”
It is not to me alone that she offers such devotion, but to all our people, he reminded himself, even as his heart swelled with joy.
“Vai leronis, I thank you for your loyalty, but I would not have you expose yourself to the dangers of the battlefield—”
“And I would not have you at any greater risk than need be, not while I have the power to aid you!” she replied. “Are you ordering me away to safety, at the possible cost of victory, simply because I am a woman? Would you give such a command to Jandria, who wields a sword with as much skill as any of your men? Or to Romilly, whose link with the sentry birds may be the decisive factor in your victory?”
“Jandria chose the way of the sword,” he protested. “She knows the risks—”
“And I do not? Carlo, the choice is not between security and death. It is whether we stand against the evil of our times or else do nothing while it swallows up everything we hold dear. There is no certain safety for any of us—not even in the Towers.”
Mounted on the black stallion Sunstar, Carolin rode near the head of the army, along with Maura and Orain. All about him, he saw great open tracts of deserted land. Now and again, a farmstead lay empty, its wells broken, its house and outlying buildings either burned or fallen away with time. His heart ached to see the decay. When Maura remarked on his somber mood, Carolin said, “I remember how green and fertile this country was. Now it’s little better than a wasteland.”
“The war?” she asked, frowning.
“Yes, but not this one. Back in my father’s time, I think. People have not lived in these parts for some years. In the aftermath of conflict, there are always bandits, men bereft of their homes by war and their consciences by the horrors they have endured. They ravaged all through these parts, taking or destroying whatever was left. Decent folk moved closer to the protection of Neskaya.”
“Do not lose heart,” Maura said. “See how the land renews itself. With a little care, it will once again be green and rich. Like the men in exile, it waits for your return.”
He looked away. “We have known each other too well and too long for such flattery. I am only a man, not a god.”
“How do you think the gods do their work, if not through good and decent men?” she demanded.
Carolin remembered the moment on the journey from Nevarsin, when he had just received word that he was in truth king, and it seemed a luminous figure placed hands around his and accepted the oath of his heart. Whether it was some vision born of his childhood dreams, the rhu fead and holy things at Hali, or perhaps even a whisper of Aldones himself, did not matter. As King, he had sworn. As King, he would live or die by that promise.
They rode along a watercourse, a narrow brook which tumbled down a cascade of piled, weathered rocks, then flowed smooth and broad across a fertile meadow starred with little blue and golden flowers. The light of the day faded in the east, casting a pearly glow from one horizon to the other, a muted kiss of sky to fragrant earth. Before the night was past, three of the four moons would dance together in the sky, two of them near full.
“I can imagine chieri coming down from the forests to dance here on a night like this.” Maura arched her back in the saddle and sighed. “What a pity we cannot have Midsummer Festival.”
No, not here, not while this gruesome business still lies before us. Carolin straightened in his saddle. “If it be the will of the gods, we shall celebrate it together at Hali.”
“Evanda grant it so,” Maura said seriously. “I long to return home.”
“To Hali, then, and not to Tramontana?” Carolin asked, keeping his voice light with an effort.
“Hali has ever been my home, and the people there most dear to me.”
“Did none of the young men beyond the mountains,” he joked, making a pun on the name of Tramontana, “shake your resolve to remain maiden for the Sight?”
She laughed, a strained sound that tore at his heart. “On the day when you ask me, Carolin, I shall not send you away disappointed.”
For a long moment, he could hardly believe what he had heard. Beneath him, Sunstar jigged and danced with the surge of emotion. Somehow, he found his voice. “If the Council will permit us to marry, I—it will be so.”
He nudged the stallion with knee and rein, guiding the horse close to Maura’s so that he could lean over and brush her cheek with his lips. Her skin was soft and smelled of sunshine and the sweet herbs she used in her hair.
In a low voice that none but she could hear, he said, “If I have said nothing of my desires, it is because I feared you still grieved for Rakhal, that your heart was not free.”
“He thought he could come to me over the bodies of my kinfolk—of you, Carlo—and that I would fall at his feet in gratitude when he offered to make me his queen,” she replied with quiet spirit. “I felt ashamed that once I had believed in him, even defended his actions, denying his true nature. I knew then that I—I felt—”
She stumbled, then gathered herself. “I will not have it said that I turned away from Rakhal when I saw the war went badly for him and chose you instead, because I desired the crown so much I would take whichever man could give it to me.”
Maura’s voice faltered on the last few words. She sat upright in the saddle, and in that moment, she looked both courageous and forlorn. Carolin reminded himself that she was no frail, simpering lady, but a trained leronis and Comynara in her own right. She had maintained her commitment to the virgin Sight against all of Rakhal’s blandishments, and then had outraged her Keeper and the very formidable Lady Liriel Hastur by training her own verrin hawk. In the camp, she had fed and tended the sentry birds with her own hands, had ridden and lived with the men without a hint of scandal.
Why should she care what people thought?
I would not have you believe it of me, that I wanted you only for the crown you offered.
Moved by wordless impulse, Carolin reined Sunstar close to Maura’s horse and reached for her. She came into his arms as if she had always belonged there. He lifted her into his own saddle. Joy swept through him.
He had set aside all hope of this dream of love, had never looked for it, had thought it impossible since the night he realized he could not feel anything beyond respect for his own lawful wife. He had always loved Maura, but the love had grown from the affection of childhood to this shining transcendent moment.
“I am sorry I teased you about Tramontana,” he murmured into the silken braids of her hair. “I should have known—I was not sure you felt—as I do—”
She shifted deeper into his embrace and her mind brushed his. All doubt fell away. His heart seemed to fill his entire body. He closed his eyes, unable to speak.
&n
bsp; Sunstar pranced, shaking his head to send the bridle rings jingling. Carolin calmed him with a touch of the reins.
“In these uncertain times, we must seize what happiness we can,” Maura said, “and treasure each moment together. You were right, though, about the Sight. We are still at war with Rakhal, and we cannot afford to discard any resource. No matter what our hearts may yearn for, we must act rationally.”
At that moment, there was no greater gift she could have offered him. She understood the demands of his rank, of the oath he had sworn, just as she, too, was bound by what she knew to be right.
“I will not have you as anything less than my queen,” he whispered.
“Do not say that, beloved. We neither of us know what the future holds. What we have today,” she smiled up into his eyes, “must be enough.”
A tenday later on the road, the weather turned gray and drizzly, with little spats of gusty rain slashing across the plains. Even when the clouds broke, the wind remained high. Cloaks and tents became soggy. Tempers frayed. The horses plodded on through the churned mud, and now and again, a wagon became mired.
Every passing hour brought the battle closer. The day felt closed in, as if, Carolin thought, they were marching blind.
He sent word to fly a sentry bird. It must stay low enough to spy through the mists, even though it was not their nature, for he needed to know where Rakhal’s armies moved.
Romilly, riding apart with Ranald and Maura, guided the sentry bird, the one she called Diligence, eastward to where they had last seen the enemy forces. In rapport, Carolin flew high over the ranges, soaring on strong pinions.
Rain slanted from the northeast. Flight became a slow, sullen effort, each wing stroke forced against the bird’s stubborn wish to fly home and huddle in damp misery upon her perch.
Through a break in the clouds, Carolin scanned the deserted land blow. Low on the horizon, smoke rose, as from an encampment of men.
Through the bird’s eyes, he saw the outskirts of the enemy camp ... men and horses, tents and supply wagons. One wagon in particular drew his interest, although the bird instinctively shied away. Sensed through his laran, something black and acrid hovered about it like a miasma. With a sickening wrench, Carolin recognized the foul taint.
Zandru's Forge Page 47
