“Yes.” In her eyes the clouds of doubt faded at last. “Yes, my love, I will gladly teach you to read.”
She stood then, her uncertainty banished, and came over to him. Sitting on the bed, she wrapped her arms about his waist and leaned her head against his shoulder. He held her quietly, and after a few moments, felt her body began to tremble and knew that she was crying. Warm wetness spread through the robe where her face was pressed against it and touched his skin. He pulled her tighter and they sat in silence for a while.
Finally, after a good deal of time had passed, she spoke without pulling her face away from his shoulder. “You must be hungry.”
“A bit,” he agreed, “but mostly I’m thirsty.”
He tried to stand but couldn’t, even with Ka’en’s help, so he sat back down, drank the water she brought him and then lay back and rested.
“So – can we start? With the reading lessons, I mean.”
She smiled, sitting on the edge of the bed. It was a smile of happiness, free of doubt and uncertainty. “Now?”
He spread his hands, grimacing as pain shot through the sinews of his arms. “It’s apparent that I won’t be going anywhere for awhile.”
In the days that followed, as Aram regained his strength, Ka’en instructed him in the basics of letters. Both of them were glad for the return of familiarity. His dark hair began to reassert itself and as she brushed through it, day by day, the white ends detached and fell away. Durlrang, finally, was convinced to come inside and was overjoyed to see and talk with his master. The old wolf had not left the veranda except to eat. Though Ka’en brought him water he would not eat of the foods of the household, preferring to hunt in the hills that surrounded the town.
One by one, and then in groups, Findaen and the others were allowed in to see him. Even Alvern stalked in one morning to give his respects. But more than anything, Aram wanted to see Thaniel, who was far too big and heavy to mount the steps up to the veranda.
His strength continued to grow, and the morning came that, as Thaniel cantered up through the shadowed streets for a daily report from Findaen, Aram was waiting instead with Ka’en and Durlrang. Thaniel broke into a gallop and charged as if he meant to run the small group down, sliding to a halt as his hooves tore grooves in the packed earth of the street. He stared at Aram and then lowered his head. His great frame trembled.
“My lord, I am – overwhelmed to see you well.”
Aram reached out and gently lifted the horse’s head, and then, despite the presence of others; he leaned forward until his own forehead lay against that of Thaniel’s.
“My brother – once again I owe you my life.”
“No.” Thaniel’s voice sounded constrained, as if he struggled with great emotion. “My lord, once again you saved us all by your great power.”
“Not by my power, Thaniel.”
“The weapon is in your hand, my lord. On the mountain of fire, it was demonstrated beyond all doubt that the power is yours.”
Aram lifted his head and looked down the main avenue toward the distant hills. “I would like to ride beyond the gates this evening. Will Huram consent to bear the lady Ka’en?”
Thaniel’s chest rumbled with pleasure. “With pride as always. And there are others who await you there.”
“Others?”
“Lord Florm and Lady Ashal. They cannot yet be persuaded to come into the town – but they will be overjoyed to see you.”
Aram smiled. “No more than I will be to speak with them.” The pleasure of seeing his old comrade drained him; he felt suddenly weary. “I must rest now, but I need to get out into the air and feel the sunshine. Will you and Huram come for us when the sun is yet two or three hours in the sky?”
“We will be here waiting on you.”
Aram rested his hand on the horse’s muscular neck for a moment. “Until evening, then.”
Thaniel watched until Aram ascended the steps and passed from sight. Then, his heart lighter than it had been for days, the great horse passed down through the streets and out of the town.
13
Aram slept for a good portion of that day, although he did take lunch on the veranda, where Lancer joined him and Ka’en.
A few minutes after the food came, Aram looked up from his meal to find the elderly Prince’s gaze fixed on him. There was an odd light in his eye. Aram’s stomach tightened – no doubt the father of the woman he loved needed a fuller explanation for the events in the west as well. He steeled himself, once again, for inquisition.
“Is there something on your mind, my lord?”
“There is,” Lancer replied, and he glanced at Ka’en before continuing. “The summer has passed, Lord Aram; the harvest is ending. Will you marry now?”
Aram stared back at him in surprise and relief, and then he also looked at Ka’en. “As soon as Ka’en is willing, my lord.”
“Are you well?” Lancer asked. “Has your strength returned?”
“Well enough, my lord, stronger every day.”
Lancer glanced up at the sky beyond the overhang of the veranda. “The weather is very fine, and Dane tells me he expects it will last for several days more. It will need to be an outdoor celebration – the whole town will want to witness the choosing of a new prince.” He met Ka’en’s eyes for a moment and then turned to Aram. “Is the third day from today satisfactory?”
“Yes,” Aram answered, and he looked at Ka’en. “I am – it is more than satisfactory.” Beneath the table, Ka’en squeezed his hand.
Lancer smiled with satisfaction. “Good,” he said, “I will inform the people.” He returned to his meal, and to Aram’s immense relief, asked nothing further.
After supper, Aram, Ka’en and Durlrang went down to the street to find Thaniel and Huram waiting for them. Instinctively, Aram had pulled on his gauntlets and retrieved the sword of heaven from its place beneath the bed, slipping the sheath over his shoulder. The horses lowered their heads to them and Aram helped Ka’en up onto Huram’s broad back. As they passed down the main street of Derosa, the townsfolk stopped and gazed up at them or came to the doors of their shops. The women lowered their heads and the men bowed respectfully. Aram felt the old familiar twinge of frustration, as he found himself once again wishing that he were the kind of man that could pass down a crowded street without drawing a glance.
Since escaping from slavery, all of his actions had been those of a simple man resisting tyranny for his own sake and, later, for the sake of others. But it seemed that everything he did only served to remove him further from the society of his own kind, elevating him to a kind of exalted status that he did not desire and of which he did not feel worthy. The events on the distant slopes of Burning Mountain, no doubt embellished by the likes of Findaen and Mallet in recent days, only deepened the mysteries that surrounded him in the eyes of the people and widened the gap between him and them.
There was a pleasant surprise at the gates. Hilgarn, recovered from his injuries incurred at the battle for Stell, opened the gates for them with a flourish.
“You are well met, my lord!” The young man fairly shouted.
Aram pulled Thaniel to a stop. “Hilgarn – you look well yourself.”
“Never better.” Hilgarn confirmed. “And ready to fight again.”
Aram smiled. “Not until spring, now, if we are left alone, my friend. Enjoy the fall and winter – watch the gates – but for now, enjoy the peace.”
Hilgarn returned the smile, his droopy eyes shining. “I will, my lord, I will indeed.”
Out on the grasslands, near where the River Weser curved toward the southwest, Florm and Ashal waited. As Thaniel halted by his parents, Aram inclined his head.
“My Lord Florm – Lady Ashal, I am very glad to see you.”
Florm chuckled, his large dark eyes glowing with pleasure. “I understand that, this time, you really did set the world on fire.”
Aram smiled a rueful smile. “It seemed the only thing to do – at the time.”
Aram stared at the ancient horse in astonishment. “There was that much disturbance – so far away?”
“Indeed, yes.” Florm considered him for a moment. “I perceive that this troubles you. Why?”
Aram gazed out across the undulating plains toward the distant black mound of Burning Mountain from which a thin thread of smoke snaked into the evening sky. “How much of that disturbance reached to the tower of Manon?” He wondered quietly.
Lady Ashal stepped forward. “The grim lord’s tower is far to the north, away over the curve of the world. But even so – how can the events of that day be hidden from him? Though almost the whole of his army was destroyed, word will surely come to him of that which you have done. Do you doubt this?”
Aram met the white horse’s gaze; after a moment, he agreed. “No, this is undoubtedly true. And I do not believe that the whole of his army was ruined. Some, at least, escaped.” He smiled. “My lady, you always calm my spirit.”
Her tone was somber as she answered. “May it always be so, Lord Aram. There are assuredly more dark days yet to come.” She hesitated, glancing at her husband. “How is it that you caused rock to melt and burn, destroying a host, and yet came forth alive?”
“Ashal!” Florm turned to his wife in consternation. “You cannot ask this of Lord Aram. These are things beyond our bounds.” He swung his head around to look at Aram. “Forgive us; my lady does not understand what it is that she asks.”
Ashal stepped back and gazed at Florm. Her discomfiture was obvious. Evidently, her husband thought she had crossed a line that she did not know had even existed. It was obvious that the regal white horse felt suddenly confused, and out of her depth.
Aram held up his hand, intending to defray the onset of embarrassment. “Nay, my Lord Florm. I have no secrets from my oldest and nearest of friends. And, as Lady Ashal has said – how can it be hidden now?” He turned to Ashal. “I will answer your question, my lady. It was this, the gift of Kelven.” He reached up and touched the hilt of the sword. “I used it to pierce the mountain, and to wound the earth, causing the tremors you felt in the valley.” He paused only a moment before continuing. “And the armor he gave me protected my life.”
Ashal gazed up at the strangely colored metal, silvery, tinged with gold. Her embarrassment faded, replaced by wonder. “Lord Kelven gave you this thing, Lord Aram?’
Aram hesitated. “Rather, he made it possible for me to find.”
It was entirely obvious, in the silence that followed, that every one of his companions wished him to enlarge on this statement.
Instead he asked, “Lord Florm – is there new snow on the mountains to the east of the valley?”
Florm gazed at him curiously. “Of your valley, Lord Aram?”
“Is there snow on the pass?”
“No, not as yet.” The old horse answered. “The weather has been mild these several weeks – autumn may last a while yet. Do you need to cross into the high plains? If you have need of information, I can send one of my people to retrieve whatever it is that you need.”
“I need to see Joktan.”
Florm blinked his great, dark eyes. “Ah, well, I cannot help you in that.”
“You could go with me.”
The old horse was genuinely surprised. He stared at Aram. “I could see the king?” He asked incredulously.
Aram nodded. “Yes – and he could see you.” He smiled. “I’m sure that the presence of an old friend would be more agreeable to Lord Joktan than that of a pestering descendent. Besides, my lord, the lands about Rigar Pyrannis are your domain. You have a right to be there.”
Florm continued to stare. After a moment, he asked. “Is that where the king resides – near the ancient city?”
“Yes – well, it is the one place where I can commune with him face to face, and where he retains strength for long conversations. And I need to have a long conversation with him – there are several issues about which I need his counsel.”
“When do you wish to go?” Florm asked.
Aram glanced at Ka’en. “Ka’en and I will marry in three days. I wish to leave as soon after that event as is possible.”
Ka’en turned to face him. “This time,” she insisted, “I go, too.”
To her amazement, Aram nodded in agreement. “Yes,” he said simply, and then he moved his gaze back to Florm. “Will you and Lady Ashal come to the ceremony, my lord?”
Florm chuckled. “My wife, I believe, will insist upon our attendance.”
For the next two days, Aram rested, taking his meals on the veranda with Ka’en, and visiting with Thaniel each morning when the great horse came up through the streets of town just after sunrise. Durlrang slept on the veranda every night now; the duties of watching the frontiers had fallen fully to Leorg and Shingka, who were now mated. When asked about the distant borders of Aram’s valley to the north, Leorg replied that Gorfang had taken up that task.
“You can trust him fully, my lord.” Leorg insisted. “I told him that the safety of Lady Ka’en depended upon his vigilance. For that reason alone he will not fail. Shingka and I often cross the rivers and speak with him. There has been nothing but quiet in the hills to the north of the king’s valley. Although –”
Aram looked at him sharply. “What?”
The wolf sat back on his haunches, forcing Shingka, who was quite a bit taller than him but preferred her mate to maintain a superior stature, to lower herself almost upon her belly.
“It’s strange, master,” Leorg explained, “but there is a man from the town to the south, by the curve of the river, who has taken to wandering the woodlands and hills to the north. We watch him closely, but he does nothing – except walk, and sit. In the summer, when it was warmer, he often slept in the forest.”
Aram’s eyes narrowed. “What does this man look like?”
“Taller than most men, and thin.”
“Large ears, hooked nose?”
“His ears are larger than other men’s and his nose is thin. I do not know what you mean by ‘hooked’, master.”
“Flinneran.”
“I believe that is what others name him.”
Aram frowned into the distance. “Why does he do this, I wonder?”
“It is a mystery to us.”
Aram glanced down. “And he doesn’t meet with anyone? Does he hunt – or dig herbs?”
“He walks, master, and sits. Then he walks again and returns home. As I said, in warmer times he sometimes stays in the hills for a night before returning home.”
“Does he not work, and tend his fields – or help the others with the crops?”
“Very little.”
Aram went silent, frowning. Findaen, who had witnessed this exchange, watched him for a moment. “What are you thinking, my lord?”
Aram glanced over at him. “I’m remembering something Alvern told me once – that in the times in which we live, anything odd deserves attention. This is an odd thing, and I will have to attend to it when I can.”
He looked back at Leorg. “Continue to observe him – if he meets with anyone or anything in his walks – inform me at once.”
“Yes, master.”
The next day, Ka’en was often away from him, with the necessities of preparing for her wedding consuming more time than she cared to expend, but she found no means of avoiding it. That evening, the night before the ceremony, she seemed tired and was unusually quiet. Reaching out to grasp her hand, Aram looked into her eyes.
“You haven’t said three words to me all day, Ka’en. Are you angry with me?”
“No! – my love, no. Never.” She met his gaze for a moment and then looked away. “It’s just that – I was thinking the same about you. You’ve been very…pensive, lately. Thoughtful, and preoccupied.” She t
urned to face him. “Something troubles you, I can see it.” She hesitated, glancing away. “Do you not wish to do this thing tomorrow?”
“Marry you? Of course I do – I want that more than anything. That which troubles me has nothing to do with you. I’m well now, and I’ve had time to think.” Aram removed his hand from hers, and stared down at the floor of the veranda. After a moment, he looked out across the fields, darkening in the autumn twilight. His features twisted, either in anger or in anguish; Ka’en wasn’t certain.
He stood suddenly and went to the railing, facing away from her, and it seemed to Ka’en that his shoulders slumped a little. “He’s wiser than me, Ka’en – wiser than I will ever be, and he sees into my thoughts. How do you resist someone, let alone defeat him, if he can look into your thoughts?”
Ka’en felt her heart grow cold. “Who, who can see your thoughts?”
“Manon, of course, who else?” These words came out harshly, almost in a growl; and he continued to face away from her, staring out across the dim valley. “He was always a step – no, ten steps – ahead of me, every step of the way. It’s as if he knew what I intended to do before it occurred to me to do it. How do I get ahead of him?” He laughed harshly, mocking his own choice of words. “No, wrong question – how do I catch up?”
Ka’en rose and clasped her hands over her breast. “What happened on that mountain, Aram?” She asked softly.
“I’m sure you’ve heard every possible version of those events.”
“No, I have not. No one else can know for certain what happened there – only you.” She took a step toward him but hesitated. “If you don’t wish to speak of it, I understand.”
He straightened his shoulders and stared out into the deepening twilight. “He knew that I would be there. He knew. In fact, he drew me there. It was an ambush, and I walked into it like some confident fool, eyes open, and I never saw the danger until it was too late.”
“But you defeated his army – this cannot be denied.”
He laughed again, and the harshness in his tone hardened. “The sword defeated that army; I was just the fool carrying it.” He shook his head angrily. “No, I didn’t defeat him. And if he’d known about the sword – I’m sure he knows about it now – he would have been more careful. And in the face of his caution, it’s natural to assume that I would have been an even greater and more confident fool.”
Kelven's Riddle Book Three Page 8
