The Mages of Bennamore

by Pauline M. Ross

  “You flirt with everyone. Even Jast…”

  He laughed, then. “Yes, even Jast. You see only a fat, old woman, but I see the warm heart that beats inside. I made her day, didn’t I? For an hour, she felt young, vibrant, desirable… It cost me nothing and brought a smile to her lips and a blush to her cheeks. I’d love to do the same for you, Fen. You’re a princess locked away in your tower, feeling nothing, barely alive. I want to wake you up, bring you to life.”

  “With a kiss?” As if I would fall at his feet like some idiot kitchen girl.

  “Well… You’re furled so tight it will take more than one kiss, but that would be a start. But I’m not going to force myself on you. If you hate me that much…”

  “No.” I don’t know why, but I didn’t want him to think I hated him. Well, I didn’t. It wasn’t personal. “It’s the teasing. The insinuations. You don’t respect me.”

  His turn to raise his eyebrows. “Is that what you think? Well… I can try not to tease you, I suppose. No promises, mind. But I’d like us to be friends, Fen.” Another twinkle. “We are married, after all.”

  His feeble attempt at humour made me smile.

  “There!” he said at once. “That’s more like it! So… are you still offering that kiss? If so, I accept.”

  I nodded, and he smiled, tapping the bench beside him. Heart thumping, I moved round to sit near him. Why was I so nervous? How hard could this be?

  He slid closer, and wrapped an arm round my waist. Without any ado, he lifted my chin and bent down to kiss me.

  His lips were warm and soft, his cheek scratchy and his tongue kept to its own territory. I kissed him back – it seemed unfair not to. It went on for a long time, but it was neither pleasant nor unpleasant. I was ashamed of myself for making such a fuss.

  When he broke away, we sat for a moment, inches apart. I couldn’t quite look him in the eye. He softly ran one finger down my cheek. Was that a sigh? Or did I imagine it?

  Then he briskly unwrapped his arm from my waist and turned back to his sword. “There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” He picked up the stone and bent to his work without waiting for a reply. Scrape… scrape…

  I scuttled out of the room.

  7: To Dristomar

  I regretted the kiss almost at once. It made things awkward. Would my guard husband see it as an excuse to take liberties? Worse, would he imagine I actually liked him? To discourage such ideas, I was careful to treat him with businesslike formality, as before. After all, our marriage was a practical arrangement, and nothing more. To my relief, his manner didn’t change and he was no more irritating than usual. Although no less, either.

  Luckily, the preparations for our journey kept us occupied. I discovered we were to travel to Dristomar by road.

  “What’s wrong with going by ship?” I asked. “It would be so much quicker.”

  Losh shuddered. “On water? No, no, no…! Too uncomfortable for words. All that swaying about.”

  As if wagons never swayed. “It’s lucky you weren’t sent to Shannamar. There’s no road to the north.”

  “Luck had nothing to do with it,” Losh said, with a smug smile. “We could have gone to Shannamar, but the thought of that long journey by river was too dreadful. We chose Carrinshar because it has the best road connecting to Bennamore.”

  The mages had a closed carriage for themselves, and two open wagons to take their vast number of boxes. I couldn’t imagine what they put in them. Even with several changes of clothing, a couple of spare robes and two or three shelves of books from Losh’s study, they could hardly fill two wagons. But the guards had a multitude of weaponry and equipment, I discovered. With all their various boxes and bags and oddly shaped packages, there was barely room for my own two small boxes.

  At first, I rode in the closed carriage with Losh, Kael and Corsell, but Kael was a bad traveller. That didn’t surprise me; I’d yet to find anything he was good at. So when the weather stayed fine, I transferred to the smaller of the open wagons. The servants preferred the padded seat of the larger wagon, but on the smaller one I had the bench behind the driver to myself, though I faced backwards, looking at the countryside we had left behind. With my rump on a folded blanket and my feet up on the boxes, it was comfortable enough. If I closed my eyes I could almost fancy myself alone.

  Almost, but not quite. Above the rumble of the wagon’s wheels rose the clattering and jingling of many men on horseback. Apart from our two sturdy guards, the Carrinshar Holder had ordered a full squad of Defenders to accompany us. Not the smart, well-trained Primaries, either, but a motley bunch of Reserves, passing their time under the Holder’s command while they waited for more enticing work, or fulfilling their annual training obligation. A sad collection, rough and loud, competing with each other to make the crudest jokes.

  The Defenders were too afraid of the mages to target them, so the two Bennamore guards took the brunt of their twisted humour. Lenya was small for a soldier, and Mal unusually tall, so the Defenders amused themselves with speculating on their relative sizes in other areas, and describing in graphic detail what they would like to do to each of them, or force them to do to each other. I don’t know how the two of them put up with it, frankly. I was relieved they never turned their attentions on me.

  As I’d never been farther west than Carrinshar, there was plenty to interest me along the way. Spring was just beginning to be more than a cruel joke, flecking the shore meadows with flowers, tiny dots of colour dancing energetically in the constant breeze. Nondescript brown birds shrieked and shot into the sky when we threatened their nests. Butterflies skipped from bloom to bloom, and wafts of lemony perfume caught my nose, making me sneeze.

  The road wound about, snaking up a bluff to a windy summit, then down into the shelter of the next bay, only to find another forbidding cliff on the far side. Every little valley had its fishing village, with nets strung out for mending, little round boats sitting bottom upwards along the shore, poles of fish drying, the children running barefoot through the heather, waving as we passed by.

  At noon, we stopped at a low inn, built with the same cobbled wall and heather roof as the fishing cottages. Inside it was cosy and warm, with fires in every room, and pots of brew and soup already on the range. There was nothing else apart from bread and cheese. It was ewe’s cheese at that. The mages turned up their noses at the pungent aroma, but I thought it made rather a fine meal. I took an extra wedge with me to eat as we drove.

  In the afternoon, Lenya and her horse-master rode ahead to find a suitable inn for the night. Mal hitched his horse to one of the wagons and joined me on my bench. I guessed why.

  “You’re hiding from our witty Defenders.”

  He gave me a wry smile. “They do get a bit tedious, something you never are, my dear one. Besides, you can educate me about this fair country of yours.”

  He was surprisingly good company. He asked sensible questions and actually listened to my answers. It helped that we soon passed into more varied terrain. Forests and dunes, sheep-studded meadows, cliffs streaked with gossamer-fine waterfalls, broad rivers and several bustling villages flew past. Before I knew it we were turning into an inn yard, with Lenya’s freckled round face beaming at us.

  The grey stone building looked well-kept, and a field of cattle to one side promised a good table. Only the most ambitious inns served beef.

  Unfortunately many other travellers had the same idea, resulting in a shortage of accommodation. The servants had to squeeze into dormitories or sleep above the stables. The mages and Corsell would share one room, Lenya and her horse-master another, and to my dismay Mal and I were expected to share, too. Lenya gave me an apologetic shrug.

  A servant led the two of us up twisting steps and along narrow corridors to the second floor, then threw open a door. It was a plain room, with a low roof under the eaves and two large windows looking down the river to distant dunes. Apart from the wide bed and a couple of shelves, the only furniture was a table with a ewer an
d basin, a small stove and a couple of hard chairs. A curtain across one corner hid the night bucket. In other circumstances, I’d have been pleased with it, but I was very conscious of my husband gazing around in silence.

  “If’n you be want’n a bath, you need be goin’ straight away, see,” the servant said. “Hot water finish’n soon. Food and ale in the common room.” She curtsied and left.

  I began to unpack my bag. “You can have the top shelf, I’ll take the lower one.”

  “No, it’s all right, Fen,” he said. “I won’t impose on you. I’ll bunk down in the stables.” He hefted his bag onto one shoulder.

  I knew what he would find in the stables – a full squad of ale-sodden Defenders, delighted to discover that he was excluded from the marital bed. He would have no peace at all.

  “No,” I said.

  “No?” He stared at me, bemused.

  “No. I’m not having those animals making fun of you. You can sleep here.”

  He looked round at the two unyielding chairs, and the floor, bare of even a rag rug, then back at me. “I think the straw will be more comfortable.”

  “The bed’s plenty big enough for two. Just keep to your own side of it.”

  “Fen…”

  “No argument.”

  He shuffled his feet awkwardly, set the bag down on the floor, but made no move to unpack. “Fen…” He seemed almost embarrassed. “Look, I… the thing is…” Then, in a rush, “Just make sure you keep to your side of the bed, too, all right?”

  I gaped at him. “What?” I couldn’t believe the idea would even enter his head. Just when I’d thought we were getting on so nicely.

  “I’m a heavy sleeper, understand? Takes me ages to wake properly. If I’m only half awake and you’re within reach, I might… well, you know…”

  I saw the point. “I thought you guards were supposed to be always alert, or something? Leaping out of bed at the slightest noise?”

  He laughed sheepishly. “Why do you think I’m only a mage guard? I don’t leap out of bed, ever. Seriously, Fen, I don’t want to do anything you wouldn’t like, and when I’m not fully awake…”

  “Right. I get it. Beware of groping guards in the dark of night. Tell you what, if we roll your cloak up tight, we could make a divider to keep us apart. Would that do?”

  He smiled and nodded.

  Evening table was every bit as good as I’d hoped – better, actually, since Lenya had thoughtfully organised a private room for the mages’ party, leaving the common room patrons to endure the Defenders in full spate.

  There was no point in postponing the moment. I went upstairs as soon as the food was finished. Mal padded silently behind me. For such a big man, he was surprisingly light on his feet.

  We took it in turns to undress behind the night bucket curtain. I was glad I’d brought a winter nightgown with me, which covered me from neck to ankles in thick cotton. I wasn’t shy, but it was best not to parade too much flesh in front of him. Perhaps he was the shy one, because he emerged from behind the curtain wearing his day shirt. He didn’t need to hide merely to strip off his trousers.

  I bundled up his cloak as a divider and we got decorously into bed, as far from the middle as possible.

  “Goodnight, Fen,” he said. Then he rolled onto his side facing away from me and lay still. I don’t think he went straight to sleep, though, because his breathing didn’t change at all.

  I had the dream again, the first time in years. I supposed I should have expected that, having a man in my bed after such an age. When I woke, sweating, heart racing, close to tears, Mal was fast asleep beside me. He lay curled into a ball like a little boy, his breathing deep and even, his face softly angelic, all the adult knowingness washed away. It was reassuring, in a way, to have him there. I turned over and slept again.

  ~~~~~

  When I woke to the early morning kitchen noises below, he was still flat out, snoring softly. I crept downstairs to beg a pot of brew, and set it on the tiny stove in the room to keep it warm. Then I pulled a chair nearer to the window, and settled down with a book about Dristomar and a mug of brew to wait.

  It must have been a good hour before he stirred, late enough that morning table was well under way, and one or two keen travellers had already left the inn. He rolled over, grunted, then opened one eye.

  “Mnph?”

  “Good morning, husband.”

  “Urgh. Fen? Time is’t?”

  “Not late. Still plenty of time for morning table. Did you sleep well?”

  “Gods.” He hauled himself up the bed, propping a pillow behind his head, and closed his eyes again. “Do you have to be so cheery this early?”

  “I’ve been awake for ages. It’s a lovely morning.”

  He groaned, pulling a blanket over his head, and I turned back to my book. A few minutes later, the blanket came off again. “Where’s the nearest privy?”

  “There’s a bucket in the corner.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  He staggered across the room, pissed loudly for a long time, then staggered back to bed.

  “Do you want some brew?”

  His face lit up. “You’re an angel, you know that?”

  While he sipped, I returned to my book by the window. After a while, he said, “You have the most beautiful hair, Fen. It’s the exact colour of ripe corn.”

  I lifted one shoulder indifferently. “Everyone has blonde hair here. It’s nothing special.”

  “It’s still a shame to scrape it away from your face and stuff it under that great ugly cap. Why do you do that? Lots of women leave their hair uncovered here, or wear one of those pretty little lace affairs.”

  “The same reason you wear all that leather gear and mail.”

  “Ah. Protection, eh? You really are a princess locked in a tower, your beauty hidden from the world. Oh, there’s that look again.” He chuckled at his own wit.

  He was properly awake, and back to his usual self, sadly.

  ~~~~~

  In the end, we were five days on the road to Dristomar. There was no particular cause for delay, but travelling with so many wagons and horses and people was a slow business. The later inns were less crowded, but we kept to the same arrangement of rooms. With the Defenders no longer banished to the stables, I felt safer that way.

  Mal was no trouble at all. Each night he undressed behind a curtain or screen, then slipped quickly into bed, reversing the procedure in the morning. I think he was shyer than I was. He even commented on that at one point.

  “I do believe you’re not quite the timid virgin I’d imagined, my love. You’re not at all bothered by a man in your room, are you?”

  I just smiled. I wasn’t going to tell him my history. It made me wonder, though, whether he was less experienced than he pretended, despite all the flirting and winking and leering. But one morning, as he picked up his neatly folded pile of clothes before dressing, something slipped out from the pile. He scooped it up and whisked behind the screen, but I’d had time for a good look at it.

  It was a belt, although not a type I’d ever seen before, made of a light material but weighted with several greenish stones. I’d never seen him wearing such a thing, even when he was stripped down to his shirt, so I guessed he wore it next to the skin. I wondered then if he had some strange illness or weakness that required such a belt, or perhaps it was a soldiering matter, something to increase his strength by wearing weights. Either way, it may be that he was a little ashamed of it. I didn’t mention it.

  ~~~~~

  On our fourth day out of Carrinshar, the road descended an escarpment and dropped us into the stillness of a forest. Mal and I took to the open wagon again, and he was surprisingly chatty. Forests are common in Bennamore, it seemed, and this one reminded him of home. He was more relaxed than I’d ever seen him before. He kept me well entertained, without the slightest hint of flirtatiousness.

  Late in the afternoon the road clawed its way up a modest ridge and we finally broke free
of the forest. At the summit was a large flat space where our wagons pulled aside.

  “Now what?” I muttered, but Lenya wheeled her horse alongside the wagon.

  “Come and have a look!” she called, then dashed off again.

  Mal jumped down and held his arms up to me. Usually I brushed aside his help, but today I was too keen to find out what was going on, so I jumped down to him. He gave me a quick hug, and as he released me our hands touched. I felt something - a kind of tingling. Before I could begin to wonder about it, we separated and it was gone. It reminded me of some other time, but I couldn’t remember when.

  We soon saw the reason for the excitement. The land fell away and the whole of Dristomar bay spread out at our feet, with the long silver crescent of the famous sands and the vast breakwater creating the valuable deep-water anchorage. Beyond was a dark, rocky peninsula that jutted protectively into the sea. To our right were farms and orchards, a patchwork of green meadows dotted with sheep or cattle, and the brown of newly ploughed fields. A silver ribbon fringed with trees marked the route of a wide river.

  Right in the middle of the curve of the bay, and neatly bisected by the river, was the town itself. On the near side, the gleaming white-stone walls and green roofs of the Hold. Around it, broad streets harboured the homes and businesses of the wealthy. I could see the domes of the temples, the solid octagonal courthouse, the red-painted shutters of the academy, the fountains with spouting whales in the great square. I had heard so much of Dristomar that it was familiar to me, even though I had never been here before.

  The other side of the river was very different. Compared with the sparkling white of the eastern town, the west was dark and drear. The low dark-stone cottages were packed in like fish in a barrel. Narrow alleys ran between, where goats, chickens and children mingled in communal filth. The black town.