by C. L. Scheel
Kitarisa wasn't sure what to do; try to sleep, or remain dressed and ready to leave. She decided on the latter, changing into her deep blue riding dress and dark cloak. She hadn't been sure what to take with her either. Along with a few of her precious herbs and personal items, she wrapped the only thing she had left from her mother--Princess Liestra's crown--more of a chaplet than a crown. There were no stones in it, no flashing diamonds or radiant rubies, but it was a masterpiece of Riehlian craftsmanship. It always reminded Kitarisa of lace--an intricate design in gold, delicately wrought and patterned in the ancient Riehlian tribemark of the falcon. She remembered how her mother's long dark hair had been held in place with it. Even though she was a princess in her own right, Liestra was rarely permitted to wear it. When she died, Kazan would not allow the crown to be placed on her head and burned with her funeral pyre.
Kitarisa wrapped the precious remnant of her mother's family in her nightdress and thrust it deep into her satchel. She would probably never have a chance wear it, but it was hers. Even Assur could not take it from her.
As the night dragged on she began to wonder if Falla had even been able to find them. Once beyond the city walls, the forest became a dark and forbidding place even for the seasoned traveler. While no one had seen them for a long time, there was always the threat of marglims in those woods, or rough roadwilds. Or even worse, the Wrathmen.
Just when she thought she would go mad with not knowing, she caught the faint sound of someone scratching at her door. She touched the handle hesitantly. It might be Jesria come to check up on her.
The scratch came again, this time louder and more insistent.
"Who is there?" she whispered.
"It is Falla, open the door."
Kitarisa opened the door a crack and saw Falla's sweet face peering anxiously at her. Falla quickly slipped into her room.
"Dearest Lady Falla, you came back!"
"Hush, girl," Lady Falla whispered. "You will wake the entire keep. Are you ready?"
"Yes. How are we to get out?"
"Your Talesian friends are just outside, so do not make any noise. They are as wary as cats. My, they are fierce! Do you have your things, your gloves and cloak? It is cold outside."
"Yes." Kitarisa nodded, while grabbing her satchel and riding gloves.
"Then come. It will be dawn soon."
Silently the two slipped out of her room and eased down the shadowy, dark corridors, past the kitchens, the storerooms, her own stillroom, until they reached the stables and the courtyard. Lady Falla touched her finger to her lips and then tugged Kitarisa's elbow to make her look into the deep shadows of the courtyard walls. Like phantoms, Assur and Kuurus seemed to materialize from thin air.
Lady Falla hugged her closed and pressed her mouth directly to her ear. "You must go now, take my horse, my little Nika. He is with the others."
"Lady Falla, how can I thank you? Please, can't you come with us?" Kitarisa caught herself almost sobbing. How could she leave this dear lady?
"No child. Go now. I will be all right."
Kitarisa looked up into Lady Falla's smiling face.
"Go Kitarisa. Go and start your life anew." She pressed her lips to her hair again, so that Assur and Kuurus would not hear her. "He will take care of you, Kita. I know it. He is brave and good. You must let him win your heart. Go now." She gave her a little shove toward the two Talesians.
"Falla," she whispered. Tears ran down Kitarisa's face, unheeded. Dearest Falla--her very last link to a time when people were genuinely kind to her.
Lady Falla did not linger. She turned abruptly and disappeared back into the keep, forever severing Kitarisa from the past. She felt Assur's hand on her elbow.
"Come, Kita," he said softly, his voice heavy with compassion.
She nodded and gathered the folds of her cloak more tightly about her. Gorendt Keep, for all its grimness and bitter memories, it had been her only home. It was here she had been born and had spent her early years with her mother and then her dear Nans. She had met and loved Rhynn within these walls and now she was saying goodbye to Lady Falla, a woman she hardly knew, but loved all the more for her loyalty and caring.
Assur gently tugged at her again. She turned and allowed herself to be led into the night and to her new life with a barbarian.
CAPTAIN MAR'KESS strode down the darkened corridor heading for his own rooms. He was tired and saddened by the events of the day. Like with most of Kazan's unaccountable decrees, he had heard of Princess Kitarisa's renunciation and had taken it without emotion but privately deplored it. He had never approved of the way Kazan had treated her, but then he had been sickened by that whole business with Rhynn Palinn.
Rhynn had been a good soldier, trustworthy and honorable. Perhaps a little foolhardy when it came to Kitarisa, but the man had been in love. It had taken all Mar'Kess' training to remain detached and unfeeling when he had given the orders for Rhynn to be dragged to the prison below and then to watch while they tortured the life out of him.
And the Princess Kitarisa? What Kazan had done to her was unspeakable. Mar'Kess almost resigned his rank and oaths to Kazan's house for it.
It was becoming harder and harder to find a good reason to remain as First Captain of Kazan's House Guard. He had seen enough of the intimidation and deceit. A responsible and hard-working Council was now stripped of any real power, leaving most all of the decisions to Kazan. There were more and more demands to punish citizens for no apparent reason other than to make sure they remained obedient and submissive.
Enormous stock holds of weapons and supplies were being built up--swords and spears, shields and armor, and the new crossbows from east of Maretstan.
Kazan's relentless drive to have Riehl had become an obsession and the people suffered for it, especially the princess
Mar'Kess passed a tired hand through his bright hair. It had been so much easier being a lowly house guard. He followed orders, kept his equipment and weapons in good condition, took care of his horses, and drew his pay. Simple. Now, it was not so easy. The responsibilities of his rank were made hard and increasingly cynical. It bothered him that he could watch a man being tortured to death with no more emotion than watching a horse being shod.
For a moment, Mar'Kess lost his way in the corridor. Not lost exactly, but absent-mindedly taking a wrong turn. He found himself in the west wing of the keep, the wing where most of the women lived.
Annoyed with himself, he doubled back and became even more exasperated when he turned down another hall to his left instead of the right. He was about to curse Verlian and anyone else within earshot, when he spotted something in the dim hallway.
Something or someone lay on the floor at the end of the hallway and began to move. Immediately wary, he approached the pale form ready to draw his sword if necessary. As he drew closer, he could hear soft moaning as the figure attempted to drag itself along the floor. To his astonishment, he realized the figure on the floor was a woman, trying to crawl on her hands. Perhaps it was one of the maids who had become ill.
He knelt down and touched her shoulder. The woman moaned again. "My lady?" he asked.
The woman collapsed as if having reached the last of her strength. Alarmed, Mar'Kess gently took the woman by her shoulders and turned her over.
Whatever had happened to her, it was clear she was dying. Blood ran freely from her nose and mouth as if she had taken a direct blow to the face. She shuddered as unbearable pain coursed through her body. Her breath came in short, rattling gasps--a dreaded sound he had heard too often in the battlefield--a sure sign the end was near.
He brushed back the chestnut-colored hair and touched her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open--soft blue and glazed with pain.
"Lady Falla! My lady, can you hear me?"
"Mar'Kess?" she whispered. She struggled to pull herself upright, but another spasm wracked through her. She coughed and again Mar'Kess heard the tortured gurgling in her lungs. He caught her up and gently rested her against
his knee.
"Mar'Kess, you must stop them?"
"Who? Who did this to you?"
She tried to rally and clutched feebly at his surcoat.
"White Sisters. There are White Sisters here. Their mistress, Malgora, their Reverend `Fa made me..."
Lady Falla arched in agony. Mar'Kess felt helpless as he watched her struggle to stay alive long enough to reveal her terrible secret. A newly-formed ember of hate began to flair within him. It brightened and crackled with each of Lady Falla's desperate words.
"You must get out of here and find him and warn him."
"Who? Who do you mean, dear lady?"
"Mar'Kess, listen to me!" Somehow the lady found enough strength to look at him with clear eyes and speak in a firmer voice. "The Princess Kitarisa was to have been taken to the Catacombs at first light by Wrathmen. Earlier this night, Kitarisa came to me for help. I then rode to their campsite to tell them."
"Whose campsite?"
"The barbarians, the Talesians. Their leader, Assur, promised he would get Kitarisa out of the keep, but it is almost too late. My own maid had been listening to us and went to her mistress. When I returned to the keep, Malgora took me...and she--" Lady Falla coughed again. "She made me tell her everything. Mar'Kess, she is evil! I do not know what she plans, but you must get to Assur and tell him. Somehow this involves the Ter-Rey himself. I do not know how... They rode north...Riehl. Hurry."
"Lady Falla, I must get you some help."
"No! I am near my Summons. I know it. All of my ribs are broken, my legs too. You must stop her."
"Where is she, where is this Malgora?"
"The north tower. Kazan hides her there. My maid Meri is one of them and maybe Jesria, too. I do not know..."
Lady Falla's strength began to wan as she fought to remain conscious. Her breath came in short, jerking spasms. She tried to reach up and touch his face. "You are a good man, Raldan Mar'Kess. Stop this witch. Find them."
Her last breath came out in one long rattling sigh. Her eyes blinked once and then closed forever.
Mar'Kess clutched Lady Falla's frail body to him, fighting to choke back his grief. He had always liked Lady Falla, with her laughing eyes and merry humor. Although several years his senior, he always thought her beautiful and infinitely kind.
He lifted her up, still pressing her tightly to him. He glanced down the hallway. No one had seen him--the west wing guard was too far away to have heard them either. Lady Falla's door was only a few paces away, she having managed to drag herself a few feet.
"Dear lady," he muttered softly, seeing what her efforts had cost her.
Mar'Kess slipped into her room and laid her gently on the bed. The bedclothes were strewn everywhere indicating a terrible struggle. There was blood, much blood on the carpet. Merciful Verlian, what had they done to her? He found a scrap of clean linen and tried to wipe away the blood from her face. He could do little else but cross her hands over her breast and then plant a light kiss on her brow.
"Verlian has you now, sweet lady. You will be blessed for this, I am sure."
As he turned to leave, he stumbled over something on the floor. Entangled in the strewn bedclothes, he found a long white cord. He dropped it like he had been scalded. A jirs'kial, silken death. Rhynn had told him about them. After `calling for the affliction'--when the Sisters were through with you, the jirs'kial ended your suffering. Even the Wrathmen were permitted to use them.
Mar'Kess kicked the cord into the farthest corner of the room. He wished he had the time to burn it, or at least show it to Kazan, but there would be no opportunity for that.
He eased back into the hall. At this late hour, most everyone would be asleep. He had to move quickly as he had no idea how early Lady Falla's maid rose to attend to her and then discover the body.
Explaining Lady Falla's death to Kazan would be immensely interesting, but he would not be around long enough to tell him.
Mar'Kess strode down the hall, back toward the main entrance to the central part of the keep. He passed the startled guard who immediately snapped to attention.
"There are reports of mealmice in the west wing. You will take two men and search this area in the morning, soldier," he ordered crisply.
"As you command, sir!"
"Lower your voice, soldier. It is late. Would you have His Highness disturbed?"
"No sir. Sorry sir."
Mar'Kess left the bewildered guard to mull over the dilemma of imaginary mealmice and headed straight for his own quarters.
Once the door was firmly shut, he stripped off the green and black surcoat, the one he had once so proudly worn, and replaced it with a plain black one. He packed his saddlebags, taking only the barest necessities. He gave his spare room one last look--fifteen turns of unquestioning loyalty and duty were finished with the last beat of Lady Falla's heart. He shut the door and hurried to the stable.
Old Nedds snored loudly from his bed in the nearest stall that had been converted to a rough room for him. Mar'Kess did not even have to sneak by him, but headed down the long rows of stalls as if it were mid day.
He saddled his bay and led him out to the stable yard, tying the horse in the deep shadows near the outer gate.
The moon gleamed silver, still only crescent-wide but bright enough for him to see the top of the north tower. It was well past the mid of the night and yet a light glowed from the high mullioned windows.
Mar'Kess gave the horse a quick pat and then drew his sword.
Chapter 10
THE CAPTAIN knew every inch of Gorendt Keep, particularly the west wing. At eighteen and desperately smitten with a Council member's granddaughter, Mar'Kess had climbed the steep outer wall to her room. At first, the girl had been shocked, but later, most receptive to him--something he soon discovered that most of the youngest guards in the garrison knew, too. She eventually married a wealthy merchant and produced several of children, but clambering that wall had given Mar'Kess the confidence to discover all kinds of lovely secrets in the west wing. As he matured, he stopped his adolescent visits, but the layout of the west wing remained firmly planted in his memory.
The back way, the way used only by servants led him directly to the access corridor to the north tower. It smelled of aging, damp stone and decay. Rats, the size of cats, scuttled out of his way into the black corners. He eased down the long, ancient corridor until he saw the steps coiling upward to the tower.
He had no fear of Malgora but was wise enough to know not to corner her in her own lair. Mar'Kess pulled up the mail coif to conceal his pale hair. His bright-colored hair had gotten him into more trouble than he cared to remember--he was too easy a target.
From above he suddenly heard the heavy thunk of a door being closed and the patter of light footsteps descending the steps. He shrank under the stairs and waited.
"The Reverend `Fa is pleased with us," a young feminine voice said.
"Yes, but her work is not done yet, Sister Merisella."
The second voice sounded older and superior. Jesria.
"There is much to do. Now that Kitarisa is gone, we must prepare for Alor's new bride. I have made the arrangements to be sure that either one of us will be appointed as her tiring woman. She will have her own ladies, of course, but it will be important for our illustrious guest to have someone to make her feel comfortable in her new surroundings."
"How long before she will be with us?" Meri asked.
"We must wait until she and Alor are married and when they are safely settled in Riehl. In the meantime we can begin in small ways..."
Mar'Kess pressed himself deeper into the shadows. Both women stopped at the base of the stairs, their backs to him.
"Hopefully, she will be easier than Lady Falla. The Holy Sister called for the Affliction several times before she submitted," Meri said.
"All must yield to the Will of Medruth," Jesria stated flatly. "It is fortunate Alor is weak and has no will of his own--he will conform quickly."
"He will, my
lady."
"Our mistress needs the strong ones, Meri."
"Like the Ter-Rey?" the girl asked, almost eagerly.
"The Ter-Rey is our mistress' concern, not ours. But, come, you must see to Falla and then rest. The Princess Dahsmahl is expected in less than a week and we have much to do."
The two started down the dim hallway, still unaware of Mar'Kess' eavesdropping. If he were to do anything, he must act before they reached the end of the corridor and moved on into the main part of the keep. His left spur chinked noisily against the stones, sparing him from having to speak out loud.
The women whirled on him, completely astonished.
"Captain Mar'Kess!" Jesria exclaimed. "Whatever are you doing here?"
"Discovering for myself what poor Lady Falla tried to tell me before she died," he said coldly.
"Lady Falla is dead?" Meri asked, surprised.
"She died in my arms, broken and bleeding, thanks to you and your witch," he spat angrily, jerking his head upward to indicate the tower room.
Meri's little round face went hard, her jaw set. "It was necessary, Captain. She did not yield easily. What she knew was vital to our Holy Sister's plans."
"And who else, holy sister?" he sneered. "Who else will she torture to death for her `plans'? Princess Kitarisa? Or Dahsmahl?"
Jesria and Meri eyed each other nervously.
"The Holy Sister's plans are her own. We are but instruments of her Will and that of the Divine Medruth," Jesria said firmly.
"How do you intend to explain Lady Falla's death to Kazan? It is well known he is extremely fond of her."
Mar'Kess glanced over his shoulder at the direction of the tower. "Perhaps your mistress could be persuaded upon–-?" He began backing away from them, toward the stairs.
"No!"
Jesria leaped at him, foolishly trying to wrest the sword out of his hand. She was a tall woman herself, but no match for a seasoned soldier. Taking her by the upper arm he flung Jesria off like an unwanted garment. He heard a sickening thud as her head hit the stone wall and she slowly sank to the floor.
