“I wondered if you might be pregnant,” he added.
“No, no sign of it. You were right about that; you said it might take a long time.”
“I’m sorry. I know you want a child of your own.”
“Oh, there’s no rush. It’ll happen when the Gods see fit. I was tired, though, but I feel much better now. Hurst…” She rolled over to face him. “May I ask you something?”
“Of course, anything.”
“What you did for me last night… do you mind it?”
“You mean kissing you there?” Smiling, he slid his hand between her thighs, making her giggle. “I rather like it, actually. And you quite like it, I believe?”
“Oh yes! But Jonnor—”
“Ah! Jonnor is not very keen?”
“He said it was disgusting. But it’s not, is it? It seems normal enough in all my books.”
“You read some interesting books, then, but yes, it’s perfectly normal. You have to remember, though, that Jonnor… well, he’s not had a lot of experience with women. Only Tella, in fact.”
“Really? Well, there’s the advantage of the two of you sharing me, I can come to you whenever I wish and not trouble Jonnor.”
He was silent for a long time, a strange expression on his face. “Actually… “ he said, looking away from her, “Jonnor doesn’t want to share you after all.”
“Oh. Bit late for that, isn’t it?”
He laughed a little, his face twisted as he looked up at her. “Far too late. But he won’t see it. So perhaps we shouldn’t tell him about this.”
It was her turn to fall silent. She could see the logic in his suggestion, yet she felt uncomfortable with the idea.
“We’re not doing anything wrong,” she said slowly. “We’re not doing anything that needs to be hidden.”
“But the arrangement—”
“Pfft, the arrangement! The arrangement has no legal standing. Within the marriage, anyone can sleep with anyone, it is only a courtesy to talk about arrangements and the lead husband having any special rights. Besides, it was Jonnor’s idea to let you sleep with me in the first place.” Again he was silent. “It’s true, isn’t it?”
“It may be true, but still… I don’t like to go against his wishes, not openly.”
She thought he looked guilty as he spoke, and it occurred to her that there might be some deeper tension, some male difficulty, between the two of them.
“Well, it was not your fault, I came to you, after all, so I will tell Jonnor,” she said.
He said nothing, and she took that as assent.
~~~
Hurst was home for several days, and Mia enjoyed the time more and missed Jonnor less than she had expected. Every morning after the family communion they spent an agreeable hour or two going through papers and petitions and accounts and supplies. If there were things to be done, he was happy to take care of them for her, so that she had more time to spend with the children and her Companions. They spent the stillness playing crowns or reading in comfortable silence before he went to the training grounds.
After meat, there were long, languorous evenings in bed. There was not the urgency of their earliest times together, for she felt no need to practise now. Instead, they simply took their time and enjoyed themselves, falling asleep afterwards in a tangle of limbs and covers, and rising comfortably together the next morning like a pair of long-married farmers.
Hurst was not a great reader, and would often get bored with his book while Mia was still engrossed in hers. One afternoon during the stillness he folded up his book and tossed it aside with a great sigh. She was alert immediately.
“Isn’t it interesting?”
“No, and who would have thought any writer could make battles so deadly dull? What are you reading? One of your romantic things?”
“Oh no, nothing so enjoyable. This one’s deadly dull too.” She slid the book along the table to show him.
“‘Rituals of Death’? That’s pretty morbid, Mia.”
“Do you think so? It’s one of the books I found while I was exploring the third floor of the library. I thought…” She flushed, but forced herself to keep her tone light. “I thought it might give me some idea whether it was common to see people in the funeral tower, or whether it was just my imagination.”
“And has it?”
“No, but some of the information is interesting. Did you know, for example, that the blue lights come from a kind of vapour in the rocks, which is brought to the tower through underground pipes?”
“Really? A vapour? But why?” He wondered if this was something he should have learned during his time with the scholars, if only he’d paid attention.
“In the days of the Petty Kings, all the dead had to be burned by law, but there were too few trees on the plains, so they devised this way of doing things, since there’s a lot of this vapour underground, it seems. Although nowadays only Highers are burned, of course.”
“Well, our ancestors were such clever folks, weren’t they? No trees, but still you must burn your dead – somehow. And now that there are plenty of trees, it’s fine to bury the dead.”
“Well, the Lowers don’t go to the Life Beyond, so it doesn’t matter what happens to them, does it?” she said, with a light laugh. “But obviously the Highers still have to burn to purify their souls to be with the Gods.”
He pulled her book closer, flipping through the strips. “What does this mean?” he asked, pointing to a strip with drawings on it.
“Oh, I couldn’t make anything of that. It’s to do with the vapour, but I don’t see how it works, do you?”
“‘Vapour transmission pipes’, it says. But I don’t see… Ah, here’s a bigger drawing. These are the pipes here, see? Inside these bigger pipes.”
“Why are they inside bigger pipes?” she asked.
“For maintenance. Look… ‘Vapour ducts undergoing checks within the access tunnels.’”
She peered at the drawing. “There are people there. The tunnels are big enough for people.” She could not keep the excitement out of her voice.
“Well, of course! How else could they check the pipes? Oh!”
“Yes, exactly. Tunnels large enough to walk through, connected to every funeral tower. Do you see?”
“So someone could have got into the tower—”
“Yes! Yes! From a tunnel below… Could have been there, inside the tower… That’s what I saw!” She was triumphant, vindicated.
“But why?” was all he said, and at once she was deflated. For of course there was no reason for anyone to go there just before the burning. It was all very strange.
~~~
Mia was oddly nervous about Jonnor’s return. She longed to have him back, of course – he was her husband, and she loved him, that went without saying – but his moods had always been a little uneven. The outcome of the skirmish could affect it, which was perfectly natural, but trivial matters like the state of an inn or a faulty horse or the weather could throw him into gloom.
Then she had to confess to him about Hurst, and she was not at all confident of the outcome. Even though she was absolutely certain of the law, and had even checked the ‘Constraints of Marriage’ booklet given to her by the Voices before they had married, still she was not quite sure that Jonnor would like it. That could mean sulks and tantrums and days of angry silence.
When Jonnor arrived, he was in his sunniest humour. The skirmish had gone well, the return journey had passed off without incident and even the weather was unusually benign. As he dismounted in the receiving yard and tossed the reins to a stable hand, he strode across to Mia beaming from ear to ear, and planted a kiss full on her mouth.
“Well, little wife, your triumphant husband returns. Come upstairs with me and I’ll tell you all about it.” He nodded briefly to Hurst, and tucking Mia’s arm into his own, led the way to the high tower. She had to half run to keep up with his longer stride, puffing a little, but fortunately he talked non-stop and required no answ
ers from her. Behind them, Hurst walked in silence, hands behind his back, then the Companions, guards and servants in procession, straggling a bit and gradually becoming spread out. Jonnor, Mia and Hurst entered the high tower and everyone else turned aside to their own quarters, or to return to their duties.
Mia had set out fruit and cakes and wine, but Jonnor went straight past them to the stairs. “We’ll talk later, cousin,” he said to Hurst, who nodded in acquiescence. “I need to change and whatnot. You can make yourself scarce for a while. Come along, little wife, you can help me out of these muddy clothes.”
He took her hand and led her up the stairs and into his bedroom, tossing his riding coat carelessly over a chair. She had never been there with him before, but she had no chance to comment on that for he immediately turned to her.
“Here, help me with these buttons, will you? So, have you missed me, little Mia?”
“Of course I have,” she said, and she worked her way down his jerkin. He removed it, and she started on his shirt, feeling a little buzz of excitement. She opened the shirt and ran her hands over his bare skin, smiling up at him.
“Ah, you have missed me,” he smirked. “I can guess what you’ve really missed.” And he grabbed her waist and pulled her towards him, so that she could feel his erection, and rubbed himself against her. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? Some of that?” She giggled, and he began to manoeuvre her towards the bed. “You must be desperate for it, after so long without a man.”
“Actually…”
She knew as soon as she began to speak that it was a mistake, the timing was wrong, and perhaps it would be better to say nothing after all, as Hurst had wished.
But he had pulled away from her, suspicious, and she had to go on. “Actually, I slept with Hurst. While you were away. I… I needed the company…”
“Hurst?” His voice was icy cold. She felt a knot of fear twist in her stomach.
“I… I was lonely…”
She had no warning, his hand a blur across her face, a crack and then, somehow, she was crashing into the wall in a corner of the room, flashes bursting in her head, dizzy, disoriented. It was several seconds before the pain exploded – her face, her eye and jaw, an elbow grazing the wall, her back against something hard – furniture probably. She could taste blood in her mouth.
He leaned over her, his face filled with violent anger. “You stupid bitch! You whore! Stupid fucking whore! You’ve spoilt everything now!”
Then he was gone. His boots thundered on the stairs, then there was shouting from below, Jonnor’s voice terrifyingly loud, Hurst’s lower, but agitated. Furniture crashed. Something glass broke. A door slammed. Then silence.
She vaguely remembered Hurst calling her name, then holding her gently, so gently, cradling her while she wept and shook in his arms. Then more people – her Companions, one of the Healing Slaves, servants. Somebody – Hurst probably – carried her through to her own bedroom. Soft cloths wiped her face, with the scent of herbs and salves, gentle hands tending her, murmuring voices in the background.
She slept, woke in the dark, slept again. Every time she opened her eyes, Hurst was there, watching her, his face anxious. “She’s awake,” he would say, and Morsha or Mista would appear, bending over her, giving her sips of water. Then more sleep.
The next day, when she was well enough to sit up, the Karninghold Slave came to ask what had happened. He must have talked to Jonnor too, because later he brought him to apologise. He was upset, he said, taken by surprise, he had misunderstood, he realised now she had every right to sleep with Hurst. He hoped she would forgive him. He took her hand, kissed it, stroked her hair, looked pleadingly at her. Of course she forgave him, she said, trying to smile, although it hurt. Then he went away and she slept again.
As soon as Mia was recovered enough to get up, she returned to her duties as if nothing had happened. Hurst had gone back to the lines already, but Jonnor was still around, anxiously solicitous. Every stillness he stayed with her instead of going off to his room to rest, he helped with the management of the Karninghold, he sat through petitions with her and once he volunteered to go to a village which had requested help. She was glad to see him go, for his unusual attentiveness unnerved her.
She had no idea what explanation, if any, had been spread around to account for her bruises, but she made no effort to hide them, even when she heard petitions. The servants tiptoed around her as if she might explode at any moment, and she noticed that there were more household guards around than usual, and there was often a Slave about, even in the family hall.
Her Companions eyed her with concern, but said nothing. The morning after, Morsha had asked her if she wanted to talk about it, but when she shook her head, Morsha simply nodded and it was never mentioned again. Only the Karninghold Slave insisted on asking questions, more than once, but Mia was adamant that she forgave Jonnor, it was a single lapse and she was not afraid of him, and had no apprehension of a repetition.
It was true, in fact. Jonnor had always had a temper, but he had never struck anyone before, not even Tella, who had routinely irritated him beyond endurance. It was clear, too, that he regretted it, and was trying to make amends.
She had never realised before just how little notice he had taken of her, but now that she had his full attention, she found it a little trying. He talked to her when she wanted to read, he persuaded her to eat when she insisted she was not hungry, he jumped up to fetch things for her and somehow he was always there, always intruding. Where Hurst’s company was restful and relaxing, Jonnor’s made her tense.
Eventually, with fairly roundabout hints, he asked if he could come to her room. She was glad to agree, hoping that sex would restore everything to normality, and bring her a respite from his excessive closeness.
Yet that too was different. Instead of the abrupt, half-drunken demands, he shared her bed and was tender and solicitous. He wondered hesitantly if there was anything she particularly liked. She asked him to stay all night and he did. She asked him to kiss her and he did. She dared not ask him to kiss anything but her mouth, but then she had Hurst for that, when she needed him. Still, it was so much better that the memory of his old ways faded almost as quickly as her bruises, and all her love for him rushed back. Here at last was the husband she had always wanted!
The best of it was that he liked their new habits too.
“May I kiss you a little?” he would say, pulling her close. “You are so soft and warm. This is so cosy, little wife,” he murmured in her ear as they drifted to sleep. “I love waking up with you,” he whispered in the dawn half-light.
It was perfect.
Then the blue arrows arrived and her world fell to pieces.
~~~
It was a strange day in more ways than one. Hurst had returned from the lines the previous day, so the three of them spent the morning going over household details. Mia was on edge in case a row erupted between the two men, but they were politely formal with each other.
They had not been there long when a servant came for Hurst; the Karninghold Slave wished to see him.
“What do you suppose that’s about?” Mia said after Hurst had left.
Jonnor shrugged. “No idea. Odd, though.”
Hurst was gone for some time, and returned distracted and unsettled, but he offered no explanation. And then, even more unusual, Jonnor was summoned too.
“What is going on?” Mia asked.
“We’ll find out soon enough,” Hurst said, and indeed they did.
Jonnor burst through the door, his face a mask of hard anger.
Mia jumped up, sudden fear rushing through her, heart thundering, and backed as far as she could against the wall.
But Jonnor’s rage was all directed at Hurst. “You bastard! You devious lying bastard!” His voice was a low hiss, but he shook with anger. “Well, I won’t tamely lie down for this, make no mistake. Two can fight for that crown, you know.” He was waving his arms about, one hand clutching a vial of
glass so dark it was almost black. “I’ll kill you, you bastard!”
“Brother, you’re terrifying Mia. Calm down a little.”
“Calm down! Calm down!” His voice began to rise. Then he looked across at Mia. “I suppose you cooked this up between the two of you, eh?”
“No, of course not!” Hurst said.
“Scheming bastards!”
“Mia knows nothing of this.”
“Oh, really? So in all those cosy nights in her bed, you never mentioned that you’d asked for the blue arrows?”
Mia gasped, hands over mouth.
“Well, she knows now, cousin. She knows exactly what kind of a fucking traitor you are! Fuck you, Hurst, fuck you to the Ninth Vortex and back!”
He hurled the vial against the wall behind Hurst’s head, where it shattered, a dark liquid trickling to the floor amidst the shards, and then stormed out.
Mia was frozen in shock and dread. She couldn’t speak. Hurst was rushing about, saying something, but she couldn’t take it in. Eventually he came over to her and grasped her arms.
“Don’t touch it, do you understand? It’s poison, you mustn’t go near it. I’ll go for cloths, I’ll clean it up, but you mustn’t touch it. Mia, do you understand? Do you?”
“You’re going to kill him,” she whispered. A stray tear trickled down one cheek.
“That’s for the Gods to decide,” he said. “Don’t go near the broken glass, all right?”
“You’re going to kill him.”
And then her tears overwhelmed her and she fled the room.
16: Blue Arrows (Hurst)
The whole Karninghold was on edge. Guards leapt out of Hurst’s way as he passed, servants pressed themselves against the walls and Skirmishers huddled in anxious knots, whispering together, only to break apart the instant he appeared and turn to their appointed tasks with studied industry. And Mia – his sweet Mia wept constantly. It almost broke his heart.
The Karninghold Slave called all of them together, the three Karningholders and their Companions, to explain how the arrows were supposed to work. Hurst thought the man was gloating a little, enjoying the drama. Or perhaps he just liked listening to his own voice. They sat in solemn rows in his office while he lectured them about the will of the Gods, and the ancestral traditions, and the irrevocable choice they were faced with, as if they could possibly be unaware of that. Irrevocable indeed.
The Plains of Kallanash Page 15
