by Ann Lawrence
“I see.” She sighed. “Is that why Samoht did not object to your leading this party? He did not want to displease Einalem?”
Ralen did not answer.
“Do you think we could make greater speed? Does your influence extend to taking control of our pace?”
She could not help a bit of emphasis on “influence” so that he might know she understood the nature of his relationship with the high councilor’s sister.
“Resume your place in line, and I will see to the pace.”
Ralen was as good as his word. He wove his way through the long, meandering party and placed himself between Samoht and Einalem. After a bit of conversation, Ralen edged his mount ahead. Einalem pulled forward to speak to him as if attached to the tail of his horse with a bit of thread. When Ralen picked up his pace, Einalem did too.
Ardra thought she should remember this method. He had accomplished his goal through manipulation, not confrontation.
The Tangled Wood grew cooler as they moved deeper into the goddess’s domain. Soon Ardra would meet the woman who was responsible for her mother’s death. The thought knotted her insides and caused her hands to sweat in their leather gloves.
With a glance over her shoulder, she checked to see where Lien rode and saw him between Nilrem and Deleh. Lien scratched at his neck and had a most disagreeable scowl on his face. The shadow of his beard was back.
She must tell Nilrem how she had tempted Lien from his vows. What penance should she serve for such a deed? Nilrem would know what a priest would say. Henceforth she intended to call Lien “pilgrim” as Nilrem did. That would remind her of his celibacy.
Deleh looked frightened, peering up at the great arms of the trees overhead. Whenever a blue-hawk cawed, she gasped. Lien reassured her each time. ‘Twas folly for Deleh to come, but she had been too frightened to remain behind with Samoht’s army. Luckily, her riding skills put Nilrem’s to shame.
Ardra caught Lien’s eye and glanced quickly away, but he pulled from his position and rode up to her side. “Deleh’s a bit unnerved, I think.”
“Again you are kind, pilgrim.”
He shrugged.
“Deleh has never been into the Wood.”
“You have?” He scratched his neck.
“Only the one time with you. What is wrong?”
“I think I must have done a lousy—”
“Lice! You have lice?”
“No. No. I don’t have lice. No, where I come from, ‘lousy’ also means bad. I think I did a bad job rinsing out this tunic. The soap’s irritating my skin.” He smiled.
What straight white teeth he had. What had become of her resolve? It would not do to think of his teeth…or mouth…or lips.
“I shall have Ollach find you a new tunic.” She glanced around. Only Deleh seemed to be paying them any attention. “May I ask you a question? One that you may refuse to answer if it offends you.”
“Ask away. If you get too personal, I’ll plead the Fifth.”
His grin annoyed her. “You are unlike any pilgrim I have ever met. Pilgrims should be solemn, reverent, not…gleeful.”
His smile widened.
“You are so hard to understand. You sprinkle your speech with words I do not understand. You speak too quickly, you slur your words together—”
“Whoa. I’m sorry. Now, is that the question? Why is my speech so bad?” His grin grew even wider.
“Nay. I wanted to know why you are so kind to Deleh. She is naught but a slave. How do your actions serve you?”
“She’s an old woman. Why wouldn’t I treat her kindly? Why does it have to serve me in some way?” He frowned, and she was sorry for the loss of his smile.
“Because you are a man. And it is my experience that men do only what serves them best.”
He examined her as if inspecting her for lice. It was a hard look. Cold and hard. “Well, Ardra, I’m not like other men,” he finally said.
With a kick of his heels, he cantered up to the fore of the company, nearer to Ollach than was seemly for a pilgrim. No one challenged Lien. He seemed to have an invisible aura that made the other men wary.
“True,” Ardra whispered. “You are unlike any other man.”
The company halted to rest the horses. Lien watched the subtle way Einalem slipped into the woods after Ralen. To avoid the couple, he walked upstream, following Ollach’s directions. Ollach said he’d seen a track along the stream bed. Ollach thought if Lien followed it, he might find a quiet pool for bathing.
Samoht insisted they camp long enough to make a hot meal, so while Ardra steamed over the delay, Lien intended to find the pool. He needed a bath—badly. His arms and neck itched like crazy.
The stream looked ice cold and deep, a river of grape drink. The bank was steep and thick with roots. The trees by the stream all reminded him of giant mangroves.
Flowers, similar to the ones entwining the tree roots along the forest road, knotted themselves around the roots here. These flowers, however, were tiny, the size of his thumbnail, and profuse, their peppery perfume filling the air. He saw signs of deer hooves on the footpath, but no snaky, slithery marks.
An awking sound drew his attention. On a nearby branch, a sleek blue bird sat and watched him, following his movements with an unblinking stare. It opened its mouth, and the awking sound came again. The unearthly creature reminded him of a turkey buzzard.
“Hi there,” he said softly to the hawk. “Keep an eye out for snakes, okay?” The bird lifted its wings and rose, soaring silently and skillfully between the branches, and disappeared.
Another sound, one he recognized more readily, came from his left. He had no wish to watch Ralen screw Einalem, so he veered to the right and made a circle around them to come back to the trail.
Ollach was right on. The path led to a break between the trees. The break didn’t exactly lead to a pool but to a narrow section of the stream where several trees had fallen and formed a bridge. It was not quite a darn—no water flowed over it, but the fallen trees did serve to slow the current.
After stripping, he took a cautious step out on the tree trunk, bounced a bit, and found it fairly solid. He walked to the center of the stream and lowered himself into the waist-deep water. The bottom was sandy and fairly smooth. His skin looked a sickly lavender in the water’s reflection.
“Gee, I hope I’m not this color when I get out.” The water brought instant relief to his itching. He examined his arms and legs. His wounds from the outcasts were almost gone, but a rash of tiny red dots encircled his wrists, and he imagined it was the same around his neck, just in the spots where his tunic was snug against his skin.
Because Nilrem had suggested it, Lien scrubbed the rash with mud from the riverbank, then took a more conventional bath with some soap Ollach had given him. The water wasn’t any colder than the ocean in midsummer, so he swam in a lazy crawl for a bit, reluctant to leave its soothing relief.
He dunked and came up, shaking water from his hair. There on the bank stood Einalem. She perched on the fallen tree between him and his clothes, smiling like a Cheshire cat. Her dress, a clingy thing, was the intense blue of her eyes. And mighty nice eyes they were when they weren’t examining him like a raptor after a rodent—as they were now.
He resisted an urge to cross his hands over his groin.
“Nilrem informs me you suffer from a rash. May I see it? I am a healer, considered gifted by many.”
He waded to where she sat. Although her blonde hair was in a neat braid over one shoulder, not an errant strand in sight, and her dress fairly wrinkle-free, she had a just-been-satisfied look about her that told him old Ralen had been a naughty boy…or a very good boy, depending on your point of view.
He extended his arm. “I think the rash is from my tunic. I don’t think I rinsed all the soap out when I washed it.”
She took his arm and stroked her fingers over the red dots. “Why did you not command a slave or Ardra to do your wash?”
He realized the grape
-ade water wasn’t quite as opaque as he’d thought, but Einalem seemed intent on her skin inspection.
“I like to do things for myself,” he said, and when she released his arm, he took a step into deeper water.
Einalem pursed her lips. “I have seen many rashes, but none such as this.” She leaned forward, peering at his throat. “Come closer; I want to see your neck.”
She toppled into the stream. He watched her flounder about for a moment, then rise to stand upright, spluttering and spitting water.
No one could fake such surprise. He laughed. She darted a sharp look at him, then began to giggle too. The light sound wiped away much of her haughty veneer.
Her dress was just about transparent against her breasts as she waded toward him. Her nipples were large and distended. Mr. Happy was in heaven.
“I might as well make the most of this opportunity and look at your neck,” she said.
When she touched his skin, her fingers were cold. She stroked along the rash where it encircled his throat, then drew her hand along his shoulder to his arm, but did not touch his tattoo. “This is a most fascinating thing, this mark. How is it done?”
“Needles and some dye stuff.”
“I could please you well,” she whispered. Her hand disappeared under the water.
“No, thank you.” He protected Mr. Happy and waded toward the bank. “Not to offend you, but aren’t you involved with Ralen?”
“And?” She lifted her arms and fussed with her hair as she waded toward him. Her dress hugged her body. “And?” she whispered again.
“Uh. Pilgrims don’t like trouble.” What if he offended her? Did she have enough influence to foul him up somehow? Leave him behind on the trail, possibly? She was Samoht’s sister, after all.
He dove beneath the surface and swam underwater a few yards before coming up in a pool of shadow where the water was much colder. She was a nice, safe distance away.
“I forgot you were a pilgrim.” Einalem paused, looked up at the bank, and dropped her arms.
“What are you doing?” Ardra asked, appearing suddenly from the trees.
“I fell in the stream; is that not amusing?” Einalem put out her hand. Ardra grasped it and helped Einalem climb up the bank.
From Lien’s position, Einalem’s dress looked like a second skin; she might as well have been naked.
“Are you hurt?” Ardra asked. “Shall I fetch you a dry robe?”
“I am not hurt, am I, Lien?” Einalem said his name in a low, sultry voice, turning to him.
Ardra turned as well. She looked at him, then at Einalem. She curtseyed. “Forgive me for intruding.” In the next moment, she was gone, lost in the greenery.
Damn.
“What ails her?” Einalem turned and gave Lien the full show.
“I imagine she thinks we’re doing something we shouldn’t,” he muttered. Damn and damn and damn.
Einalem wrung out the rope of her hair. “All I have done is fall in the stream.”
How he wished the woman in the water with him were Ardra. What would it be like to have her legs wrapped around his waist while the strange water swirled around them?
Einalem plucked at her wet gown. “I will find a soothing oil for your rash. Visit me when next we halt our party, and I will rub it on for you.”
I bet you will. “What about that gray stuff? Nilrem probably has some with him. He put it on this wound here,” he pointed to his arm, “and there’s hardly a mark left.”
“It has little effect on rashes.”
She picked up the clean tunic Ollach had found for him, slipped it over her head, and walked off toward camp.
He flung himself onto his back and floated with the current.
Damn. Now he’d need to get Ardra alone and explain that nothing was going on. “Whoa,” he said aloud. “Why? Ardra’s nothing but a sweet woman who’s horny but doesn’t know it. Or is it me who’s horny?”
When he climbed out of the stream, he let the air dry him for a minute, more than a little annoyed that he had to put on his old tunic.
Ardra would not have taken his tunic. She was one of the least selfish people he could think of. Everything she did was calculated to serve her people. Was that what made her so interesting?
The red dots began to flare up now that he was out of the soothing water. He reached for his pants.
A woman stepped from the shadows, coming from the direction of the camp. At first glance he thought it was Einalem, but a second told him it was a stranger.
Well, hell, would wonders never cease? Another blonde. She stopped in her tracks and stared. Her gaze ran up and down him. His rash tingled as though tiny insects were having a feast.
He held his pants in front of his crotch. She didn’t say a word, but turned and vanished back into the foliage, directly into the tangled tree roots.
He waited a few moments before tugging the pants over his damp skin. As he laced them up, he froze.
Dangling in front of him, right where the woman had stood, was a black snake. As thick around as his arm, it was at least six feet long.
He held his breath. The snake’s head lifted. It tested the air with its red tongue.
Slowly Lien dropped his hands to his sides. A glance told him he had nowhere to go except the stream. Common sense told him the snake would get him before he hit the water.
Lien pointed at the snake. “Be gone.” The snake undulated in the air, head poised to strike. Lien held his place.
A ripple washed down the snake’s body. The snake dropped like a stone and slithered through the grass—straight at him. And past him. It shot into the water.
Heart racing, mouth dry, Lien watched the snake zigzag downstream.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” His hands shook a bit as he tied his laces and pulled his tunic over his head. He jerked on his boots, snatched up his walking stick, and hurried back to camp.
Ardra sat on her horse, ready to go.
“Sorry to hold you up,” he said. “But I ran into a huge snake back there.”
“What color?”
“Black.”
“The black ones are lethal.” With a brisk nod, she turned her horse and joined Ralen at the front of the company.
Ollach gave him a leg up, then thrust his long sword into a saddle sheath. “I hear Einalem came back all wet and wearing that tunic I gave you,” he said.
“She fell in the stream.” Lien took up his reins.
“Watch yourself. There are those who might use your behavior against you.”
“Why? She fell in the stream. I didn’t invite her company, and nothing happened. How could someone use that against me?”
Ollach raised an eyebrow. “Are you mad? You have no arm rings. If you did not claim the pilgrim status, you would be condemned as a runaway slave. There are those who would not hesitate to use any excuse to challenge you, but most are wary of harming a celibate man. ‘Tis bad luck.”
“Celibate?”
“Aye. To forgo the pleasures of the flesh is an esteemed choice, so it protects you—now. But if you prove lecherous, many will believe you hide behind the vows for other reasons, such as eluding your master’s grasp. Then they will act—for the reward if nothing else. And surely you know that slaves without masters are fair game for those who wish to make a quick fortune.”
So he was thought celibate. Well, hell. Was that what held Ardra back? She thought he was celibate? And how did that make him look? He was supposed to be a man of principle and at the first opportunity he’d forgotten his vows. She must think he was the biggest hypocrite in Tolemac.
It didn’t matter. In fact, it helped. He might feel obligated to watch Ardra’s back, but as long as he didn’t sleep with her, he could leave her at the first opportunity.
Lien was damned tired of riding. What was a fun activity when visiting friends in Maryland was just hard work after five or so hours. And now that it was night, the outriders carried smoking torches that stung his eyes.
I
t also annoyed him that Ardra had resisted his efforts at conversation. She must think he’d hooked up with Einalem.
“Deleh?” Lien guided his mount closer to the old woman.
She nodded.
“Tell me what you know of pilgrims hereabouts.”
“Pilgrims? They are usually traveling to Nilrem’s mountain or perhaps the capital to see the priests. I have known pilgrims to go both places for different matters.”
“And once they reach the capital?”
“They seek some penance or wisdom. If they get it, they return home. Some pilgrims never find what they seek and so wander all their days. ‘Tis an excuse to avoid gainful employment, if you ask me. ‘Tis laziness. I hope you are not one of those.”
“Uh. Definitely not. I’ve always been gainfully employed. Anything else you can tell me?”
“If you are a pilgrim, you should know.” Her eyes narrowed.
“I’m from across the ice fields. I’m just comparing customs.”
“Ah. Well.” She pursed her lips. “Pilgrims are ofttimes lazy souls, as I said. Lazy or not, they all eschew the pleasures of the bed. Some might also refuse wine or meat until their penance is done. It depends, I suppose, on what it is a pilgrim seeks, what deeds they feel they must atone for.”
Damn.
Chapter Eleven
“How much longer?” Ardra asked Ralen.
“It depends on whether you wish to arrive in the light or the dark,” he said. “I could call a halt now, set camp, and then we would arrive at the goddess’s fortress before the midday meal.”
“And the other alternative?”
“Ride through the night and arrive while the orbs are overhead. It matters not to me.”
“We have wasted three days on this journey. I do not want to waste a moment more,” she said.
“Then we will ride on.”
Ardra watched the sky each time a break in the tree canopy appeared. When she finally saw the orbs directly overhead, the Tangled Wood thinned.
Not much later they burst from the forest, and there at the foot of a low hill sat a lake. Wisps of fog rose from its surface.
