VirtualWarrior

by Ann Lawrence

  “Looks like a salad to me,” Lien said.

  Einalem shook the bowl. “Do the Selaw women not rid themselves of unwanted babies?”

  Ardra stared at Einalem and then looked away. Did they? She settled for a noncommittal shrug.

  Einalem stirred the bowl with a wooden stick. “I would imagine ‘tis the same where you come from, is it not, Lien?”

  “Yeah. It’s the same.”

  What else do I not know of a woman’s world? Ardra wondered.

  “This is a fresh mixture,” Einalem said. “It looks ready to simmer. And this,” she moved to a wooden box whose lid lay by its side, “this is a very rare find.”

  “Is it the potion?” Ardra asked, resuming her place by the door, where she peered through the small crack, grateful to avoid more talk of babes, wanted or not.

  “Nay.” Einalem wet her finger, dipped it in the box, then licked her fingertip. “‘Tis a fine grind, this is.”

  “What is it?” Ardra hissed.

  Einalem pursed her lips. “It is a spice to season food. Sometimes used to mask other tastes. If food is stale and so on.”

  Ardra abandoned the door again, but Lien clamped a hand over her wrist when she reached out to sample it. “Don’t taste it,” he warned.

  “It is just ground nuts,” Einalem said.

  Lien eased his grip, and Ardra smelled the powder, then tasted it. “This was in the bread served to us before we retired.”

  “I believe you are right.” Einalem replaced the lid and then moved about the chamber, setting it to rights.

  “I have seldom slept so deeply. Do you think Cidre put it in our bread to hide a sleeping potion?”

  Einalem laughed. “Sleeping potion? ‘Twas just fatigue, my dear. Why should she put us to sleep?”

  Lien answered for her. “So she could hide something without our interference? We did surprise her.”

  Einalem shook her head. “Nay. One cannot surprise a goddess. She has spies everywhere.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  They left the herbarium without locating anything resembling the Vial of Seduction. How Ardra wished to arrange a repeat inspection with Nilrem, but he lacked courage.

  Lien cleared his throat. “I’m going to have a chat with the pilgrims. Take a nap if you can; you look tired.” He touched Ardra’s shoulder, but for only a fleeting instant, then walked away.

  She spent a moment watching how he leaned on his stick and remembering the fine, hard lines of his body beneath the tunic and leather breeches. A laugh dragged her back from useless dreams. Einalem’s laugh.

  Einalem had joined the men and Cidre at the hearth.

  Ardra did not trust Einalem, but had to admit the woman had quickly identified each substance and its uses, finding nothing unusual save the large quantity of herbs to prevent birth.

  Ardra skirted the hall. It was time to take the nap Lien had recommended.

  She also wished to avoid the conversations that burbled around her like so much water over a dam. She could not stay and watch Lien talk to Cidre, or the other pilgrims, for that matter. She did not wish to hear them laud the pilgrim life, nor did she wish to embarrass herself by disputing their claims.

  In her chamber, she did as Lien had the night before, she jammed a chair beneath the latch.

  She washed her face and hands. When she went to lie down, Lien’s pack sat in the center of her bed. Curiosity bloomed like a troublesome weed. She dug in Lien’s pack, but found only his tunic and a pot of oil she assumed was for his rash.

  The tunic should be washed. She sat on the floor and pressed her face into the soft linen and breathed his scent. Something fell from its folds—one of the strips of cloth Nilrem had bound about Lien’s wounds. The cloth was clean, and within its neat folds was the leaf from the Tree of Valor.

  Lien had kept it. It felt as fresh as if it had just dropped from the tree. How was that possible? Did he know this heart-shaped leaf was once a token passed from one lover to another?

  She pressed the leaf to her face and wept.

  What a fool she had been to lie in bed with him. Had she not already made a fool of herself over another comely man?

  Did Lien wear a false face? He made love, but wanted none of the consequences.

  Why had she not heeded the warning painted on his arm? Now he would go. She should thank the gods that Cidre had put a sleeping potion in their bread. Else she might be wondering if she would bear another child who must live a hard life without a father to aid and teach him.

  Someone pushed on the door. Deleh whispered her name.

  “I cannot be found wailing like a simpleton over Lien’s shirt,” Ardra whispered. As Deleh wandered away, Ardra wrapped up the leaf and returned it to the pack. The tunic went into a pile of her own garments that needed washing. To remove the signs of weeping, she splashed cold water on her face.

  The pot of oil on the floor must be from Einalem, meant to ease Lien’s rash. She opened it. Inside, the oil was thick, and she touched her fingertip to it and sniffed. She recognized the scent. She had a salve just like it to smooth on burns. Carefully she placed the pot in Lien’s pack, retrieved his tunic, and folded it on top.

  Was that how she had found it? Would he know she had gone through his things? She decided he was not so neat as to fold his tunic, so she pulled it out again and stuffed it carelessly in with guilty haste.

  She curled on the bed and did as she had not done since her mother’s death—she cried herself to sleep. A hard rap on the door woke her with a start. “Who is it?” she called.

  “Samoht. Open this door. Now.”

  She dragged the chair away. He swept into the room and slammed the door behind him.

  “What are you doing hiding in here? How can you find the vial if you are lying abed or primping?”

  “I was washing my face. I was about to return to the hall when you arrived.”

  “What is this?” Samoht picked up Lien’s pack. He rounded on her. “This is the pilgrim’s, is it not?”

  “Aye. He has no other place to keep it.”

  Samoht cast it aside. He was upon her in two strides. “You are lying with him, are you not?” He gripped her arms and shook her. “You press your knees together and protest when I touch you, but for him, a dark-haired freak, for him you will spread yourself.”

  He kissed her hard, stifling any protest she might make. He walked her back against the table and leaned over her. He was strong, aroused, angry.

  She clamped her hands on his shoulders and tried to twist from his grasp. He gripped her wrists and jerked them apart.

  “Scream, Ardra. Go ahead. Scream and summon help. It will surely be my men who come.”

  She choked back the shriek that was on her lips. “Aye. Scream for help and I will see your Lien castrated, a common fate for a slave who dares to lie with his mistress.”

  He slid his hands over her breasts. “I will see your boy banished, and you,” he kissed her throat, “you I will chain to my bed until I am sated. Go ahead and scream. It will bring me great pleasure to punish your refusal.”

  Bile rose in her throat. He held her against the table, his body pressed between her thighs. He pulled up her skirt and ran his hand over her hip.

  “Perhaps I should give your Lien to a few diseased outcasts. You know who I mean. The ones who prefer the favors of men to women. Then I will castrate him.”

  “Stop this, Samoht. You do not want me.” She reached for her eating dagger. Her hand trembled. She would kill him before she would submit to him.

  He gripped her chin. “I have wanted you since I witnessed your mating.” He kissed her mouth. She whipped her face aside and he laughed. “Did Tol satisfy you? Or did you take lovers? How many? Ollach? I would like to castrate him, too.”

  “Ardra!” Lien burst into the room, tearing Samoht off her. He tossed the high councilor across the room and stepped in front of her. When Samoht came to his knees, Lien snatched up his stick and held it in both hands.

>   “You dare touch me! You dare threaten me!” Samoht scrambled to his feet and jerked his tunic straight.

  Three men, Red Rose Warriors, crowded the doorway.

  Ardra snatched at Lien’s arm to hold him back.

  Samoht pointed at Lien. “Take this pilgrim and lock him up. He is charged with assaulting a councilor.”

  Ralen shoved his way into the room and stood in front of the guards. “What is the commotion here?” he asked.

  Ardra hung on to Lien’s arm.

  “This man,” Lien shouted, “was raping Ardra.”

  “Samoht?” Ralen slapped his hands flat on Samoht’s chest to prevent him from lunging at Lien. “Is this true?”

  “She was willing. Were you not?” Samoht stared at her, all his threats plain on his face.

  “Aye,” she whispered.

  “Ardra!” Lien stared at her in disbelief.

  “Lien, you misunderstood,” Ralen said. “You surely can’t believe that. Look at her. She can’t even look you in the eye!”

  The warriors stepped back in wary silence. Ralen walked to Ardra and lifted her chin. “Look at me and tell me the truth.”

  Her mouth trembled. Samoht would castrate Lien. Harm her son. She had almost killed him with her eating dagger. Her life would be forfeit for such an offense. She gulped back her tears.

  “Lien misunderstood.” She stared at Ralen, but her words were for Samoht. “Please, Samoht, I beg of you, do not punish him. Nilrem made Lien vow to protect me.”

  Ralen gently moved the hair from her face. “I think there is more going on here than you wish to admit. But it would serve no one to continue this. Samoht, I think it hasty to have Lien locked up for defending Ardra.”

  Samoht stabbed the air in Lien’s direction. “He came after me with that stick.”

  Ralen shook his head. “A stick? You wear a dagger, your men have swords. He can hardly do you much harm with a stick.”

  “I demand an apology for his mistake.”

  Lien opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked at Ardra. She wanted to beg him to acquiesce, but could not. Tears dripped down her face.

  “Sure. I apologize,” Lien said. He set the tip of his stick on the ground. “I was hasty. My mistake.”

  Ralen heaved an audible sigh. “Now, Samoht, send your men away. And Lien, fetch Deleh that she may tend to Ardra.”

  Samoht ordered his men away, and Lien walked out just behind them. Ardra wanted to hang on to him but could not.

  The door shut. Ralen walked across the chamber to Samoht and kicked him in the thigh.

  Samoht fell with a crash and lay there, writhing in pain. When he stopped gasping, Ralen pulled him before Ardra.

  “Now the true apology will be made. Say the words, Samoht, or I will reveal a secret I am sure Einalem would rather remained hidden forever—something we both know need not come before the council.”

  Samoht jerked his arm from Ralen’s and staggered back, rubbing his palm on his leg. The two men stared at each other. Ardra felt the heat and hatred streaming off Samoht as tangibly as if she could see it.

  “Ardra,” Samoht finally said. “Accept my apology.” He turned and left the chamber, shutting the door with a bang.

  “I would have killed him.” She brought her hand forward from the folds of her skirt. In it was her dagger. With some difficulty, for her hand was shaking, she sheathed the knife.

  Ralen took her hand. “I am heartily grateful to Lien that he interrupted. I need not tell you of the coil of trouble you would be in if you killed a councilor.” He smiled. “Though I would have done the same in your place. I am sorry for Samoht’s behavior, but I would not count on my threats keeping him in line. He is used to taking what he wishes.” He lifted her hand to his lips.

  The door opened. Lien stood in the threshold behind Deleh.

  Ralen kissed her hand and then her forehead. “All will be well,” he said and left the room.

  Lien sat with his back to the wall outside Ardra’s chamber. He clasped his hands around his knees, his stick across his lap.

  He wanted a piece of old Sam. One part of him wanted a piece of Ralen, too. It pissed him off that Ralen had been the one to play the shining white knight. It pissed him off that he couldn’t call the local sheriff and have Sam hauled off to jail for attempted rape.

  Sam was the local sheriff, and Ralen his deputy.

  The deputy was kissing the damsel in distress.

  Damn.

  Lien’s rash pissed him off, too. It flared up when he was close to Cidre and simmered right down when Ardra touched him.

  He shifted his shoulders against the rough stone wall. Ardra raised another itch he badly wanted scratched.

  Deleh shuffled up the steps and into Ardra’s room. The majestic concubine had deteriorated into an anxious old woman.

  Ollach arrived. Lien nodded to him, and when Ollach knocked, Lien stood up. He walked in on Ollach’s heels. He wanted company when he dealt with Ardra. A witness, so to speak.

  Deleh began to comb out Ardra’s hair. Lien found himself watching the motion of the comb. Her hair looked like a sheet of gold cloth. What was wrong with him? It was just hair.

  “I have something to say, Ardra, and I’d like Ollach to hear it,” he said.

  She curtseyed.

  He unloaded. “You are not to walk around this fortress alone, do you understand?”

  “I can take care of myself.” She brandished her eating dagger. Deleh gasped.

  Lien merely lifted a dark brow, but he did not speak words of contempt for her boast. “A knife isn’t the answer,” he said. “Caution is. Do you understand?”

  Ardra nodded. Lien was right. Had she been cautious, Samoht would not have caught her alone. And he never would again.

  “A nod’s not good enough. Say it.”

  With a sigh, Ardra complied, though she chose her words carefully so what she said was not a lie. “I will not walk around this fortress alone.”

  “You will not be in this room or any other without a bodyguard. And one of Samoht’s Red Rose Warriors will not do.”

  “I understand what you are saying.”

  He jerked his thumb at Ollach. “Do you get it, too?”

  Ollach bit his lip and shifted from one foot to the other, but nodded vigorously. Ardra imagined the poor man thought he must accompany her to the privy.

  “Okay. Now, there’s a feast downstairs. I’m sure you’d rather stay here, Ardra, but you’re going. Stay where you can be seen—and as far from Samoht as possible.”

  He grabbed Ollach by the tunic. “You stick with her through the whole thing, understand? I don’t care if old Sam pays your salary or not. You stick with her.”

  “As you wish,” Ollach said, and Ardra wondered if he realized he was accepting a command from a pilgrim.

  Ardra took a deep breath. “I am sure Ollach only understood half the words you said—”

  “Mistress! I can understand his meaning. I am to protect you. Am I right?” Ollach looked at Lien, his eyebrows up, his hand on his sword hilt.

  “You’ve got it. Now wait outside.” Lien pointed at the door.

  “You will both wait outside. I must change for the feast.” Ardra tried to pretend she had no cares. She spoke as coldly as possible. She must distance herself from Lien. If she truly wished to prove herself able, she must take care of herself.

  “You look fine in that, and we have to talk,” Lien said.

  She looked down at the rumpled gown. There were barely perceptible marks from her tears. Lien would not notice them, but a woman would. “I will not go to the feast in this gown.”

  Ollach tugged on Lien’s arm. “Come. Women must have their way in some things. We will wait out here.”

  Ardra threw her shoe at the door after it closed. “Women must have their way in some things. I hope their swords go soft.”

  “Ardra! What ails you? Such words for a woman!” Then Deleh began to laugh. “I did not know you understood the necessity
of having strong steel in a sword.”

  “Forgive me,” Ardra said, but she smiled. “I am not completely ignorant, just weary.”

  Deleh arranged another overgown for her. It was ivory to match the underdress. Was it fortuitous that the gown had amber stitched along the hem of the sleeves and neck in the pattern of the Shield?

  As she laced the gown, she realized it was one that opened in front, so a mother might nurture a child. It was a long time since she had needed it, a long time since she had seen her son. He was hidden now, with his nurse, who loved him quite as much as she.

  Lien had no wish for babes.

  She combed her hair again. She laced and unlaced her gown. She found a flaw in her woolen hose and took them off, then put them on again, tying the ribbons about her thighs. Last, she opened her pack and found a sheath and long dagger that had belonged to Tol. The blade was plain as was the hilt. She slipped it on the decorated belt that graced her waist and hips.

  “Now, Ardra,” Lien called from the hall.

  She whipped the door open.

  His hand was raised in a fist. He lowered it slowly. Would he challenge her right to wear the knife?

  His gaze ran over her from her head to her waist, to the dagger, and back to her face. “You look…ready.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Cidre sat at the center of many long tables arranged in a T. The head table was raised up on a dais. Samoht and Ralen flanked her. Einalem sat next to her brother, Ardra between Ralen and Ollach.

  Lien sat with the hoi polloi and Nilrem, too far away to be a part of the head table’s conversation, but not far enough away from Pointy-nose to avoid the joys of pilgrimming.

  Ardra hardly touched the jellied eels or something Nilrem raved about called the green goh. Goh looked like a plucked squirrel to Lien, but it was pretty tasty. Then he realized the pilgrims were not eating the meat and sighed. At least he could get in line with the spring water. It was clear, cold, and had apple slices floating in it.