“If freed in the very court of the Maltar himself, Leggings would find her way back to the Council’s Keep.”
“And tell them by her very appearance the route that we’ve chosen.”
Elana faced her solemnly in the drenching rains. “The Council did not do this.”
The quiet, unfaltering assurance forced Diana still. Elana spoke with the steadiness of a Woman’s Vow. Despairingly she felt the answering chord of belief rise within her heart. But this was not home, she pleaded with herself. This woman was not a Sister. Why did she want so desperately to trust — despite caution, experience — despite all reason! Diana spun on her heel, savagely throwing aside her traitorous instincts. “We stay to the road.”
“Then the packs will need to be lightened. Especially if we ride double.”
“There is much I can leave behind,” Diana returned curtly. It would not be the first time she had buried the heavier bulk of her Imperial equipment. She would radio Thomas to send someone to retrieve it — and she would bury it a good ways down the road from here. “We’ll strip the scout of his weapons and vest too. I’d rather we left it looking more like a thieves’ raid than an assassin’s ambush.”
Elana bowed her head in mute consent.
† † †
The rain had given way to a damp mist and twilight lent the woods an eerie gray gloom. But the mud-blanketed road belied the myths of forest terrors with the very dreariness of its reality. Leggings plodded along unconcerned, head hanging low near her mistress’s shoulder as Elana walked. They had been alternating between riding and walking, and Diana had grudgingly admitted to herself that somewhere she had acquired a certain degree of Imperial chauvinism. It had not been easy for her to accept the saddle when her companion was trudging through the ankle deep muck. But then, as Elana admitted, it was no less easy for her to ride when her Shadowmate walked. Perhaps they were more alike in some ways than she’d credited.
Leggings snorted, pulling up as Elana halted in her tracks. Sword drawn, Diana slipped to the ground in a silent, easy motion. Fleetingly she thought of the eitteh that had left them after the ambush. Her eyes searched the murky forests around them, but she could find nothing.
Concerned, she joined Elana. Diana recognized in Elana’s faint, unfocused stare her deep state of concentration. Elana had looked that way when she held the fire in the gardens. The Amazon glanced about again; still it seemed all was in its place.
“Alone…! Alone!” Elana returned to the present.
“What is?”
“The scout.” Elana gripped Di’nay’s arms in excitement. “He thought there would be one alone! ”
“What?”
“Remember, I said he was surprised, and I did not understand why.”
“Yes, but — ”
“He was startled because there were two of us! He was expecting only one. He expected a single green-garbed rider, not two!”
“Green-garbed…?”
“Very specifically, yes.”
Diana’s brow creased in bewilderment, and she turned to sheathe her sword. It was not a secret that Di’nay, Courier of the Southlands — trader of news and small trinkets — usually rode alone. And the green cloak and jerkin were the standard garb of all the Southern Traders… and, of Baily’s crew. But why would Maltar’s men connect her so quickly with their errand? She had taken great pains to insure her reputation concerning politics was one of aloof disinterest.
“It is possible,” Elana murmured, as they began walking again, “that you are not truly seen as a visitor from the Desert Peoples.”
“No one has ever questioned my history. The position was established shortly after the appearance of the Unseen Wall around the Terran Base. We have simply rotated new Amazons into Mattee’s family inn. Why should my presence be seen as anything different now?”
“Perhaps it has always been seen differently? That you come from the Southlands may not be challenged, but that you are a trader for the Desert Peoples may be less credible. Perhaps you are suspected of being one of the Council’s men.”
“That would explain why Maltar’s spies would expect the Southern Trader’s appearance, especially if they generally trail my whereabouts. My midnight departure from Gronday would have been suspiciously well-timed with Garrison’s crash. But, it does not explain why he was waiting for us — me, on this specific trail. How would they have known that they were being followed? To the best of our knowledge, they never circled back to sight us. Yet he was certain enough to abandon his horse and commit to a thirty league trek over the mountains.”
“I know you were not seen. That scout did not recognize you, but — there is another way.”
“Somebody in your precious Keep talked!” Diana said bitterly.
“Not of the Keep, Di’nay. The Seers would have apprehended the person long ago. But it could be someone from the village where you stayed. Someone tending the animals or the kitchen. Otherwise they would have known you were assigned a Shadow, Di’nay. They would have known there were two of us.”
“Or to be fair,” Diana amended tiredly, “it could have been my people who inadvertently gave away my destination. The man Baily sent to fetch me at Mattee’s would have left word for our colleague since I wouldn’t be keeping our usual schedule. The message could easily have been intercepted.”
“Such a message would be understood?”
“They’re in the local tongue. Certainly… it would be why the attack was not made in the night. A rider from Gronday would have come from the Crossroads. Their rear escort would not have known until after his tangle with the two eitteh.”
“But word from their spies or hawkers would’ve had to come from Gronday or Colmar too, so it tells us nothing about who was the informer!”
With a disgusted sigh, Diana said, “Facts suggest there’s extra help from somewhere; knowing who is little help for now.”
“Yet, if their information says one person trails them,” Elana ventured, “might we not be able to use that?”
“Perhaps. The obvious response would be to openly travel as a pair.” Elana was beginning to seem indispensable… Diana didn’t like that. She said, “I am known at this Inn, and further on, in Colmar. Whether I travel alone or not, I will be recognized. Perhaps it would still be best for me to follow my usual solitary routine and keep you relatively hidden.”
“There is more?” Elana prodded, sensitive to Di’nay’s shifting amarin.
Leggings snorted, her withers shuddering as a silverpine dripped on her from the heights above. Diana eyed the bay mare. “I am also known to be quite partial to red horses. My favorite is a chestnut stallion, Kaing.”
She should have known that, Elana realized with surprise. Her visions had never shown Di’nay riding anything other than a bay or a chestnut. Elana sighed, resigned to the stony displeasure she was about to face. “I know you are wary of the Council’s motives, Di’nay, but if Leggings is going to place you at risk, perhaps we should send her back to the Keep? Or… sell her.”
The silence stretched between them as they went. Hesitantly Elana opened herself a little more to the impressions of Di’nay’s amarin. But there was no surging anger to weather this time. There was only that sense of tightly reined turmoil. No, it was not anger, Elana reflected, it was some sort of confusion that was churning within her Amazon. “Di’nay…?”
Diana drew a measured breath and shook her head, a steely set to her mouth. “When you speak of the Council, I almost find myself believing in them.”
Patiently, Elana said nothing.
“Experience has taught me much of the ambitions and of the senseless games of men. To trust them…,” she glanced apologetically at Elana, “…or their agents has never been wise. Your Council sits so serenely in its little Keep, watching and toying with the lives of these people… yet, it is not that simple here, is it? The Council is autonomous from the Empire by what means? I do not understand them, but I begin to suspect the ways of the Terrans —
their covetous ways of power — do not quite apply to this Council of Ten.”
Elana quietly answered, “Their goals are ambitious, Di’nay, but not in the way of your Empire.”
“Not my Empire,” Diana said brusquely.
“I beg your patience. You are not wrong; the Council is not to be judged by the Terrans’ accomplishments.”
Diana studied her curiously. “How should they be judged?”
Elana took a long time in considering that. “Perhaps as parent? Think of them as parents who stand behind their child. They watch, they intervene to protect but mostly — they are simply there. They offer a bit of wisdom if asked, but, in truth, most children are often not prepared to listen. Children would rather make their own mistakes, grow and find their own strengths — their own faults. For all their patience, the Council members are quite human. They make mistakes as parents will. Sometimes they should have stepped in sooner, perhaps a bit more forcefully — sometimes they move too quickly when they are not truly needed and they have made the situation worse.”
“What are their ambitions for this — child then?”
“What does any good parent wish? To see their child grow and mature — that adulthood may be one of kindness and gentleness. That they may know the difference between pettiness and forgiveness — that they will value peace and fairness. But the evolution of a society — of an entire world, Di’nay! That requires patience, and a respect for the child’s potential that spans across eons.”
Diana’s respect for this woman grew even if her uncertainty could not be completely banished. “You believe in their way?”
“Perhaps.” Elana’s laugh was tinged with irony. “Sometimes I question their methods. Aggar suffers from senseless slavery and greed. There are times I wonder at the Council’s seeming passiveness. But, yes, I do believe in their dream.”
† † †
Chapter Eleven
The Crossroads Inn had grown in the generations since its founding. Even with the thinning trade of the late autumn, the stables were well-filled and the rooms well-frequented. Although the establishment was called inn, it resembled a small village rather than a single roadhouse. It was an assortment of large manor houses made of fine stained silverpine with porches and suspended walkways which interconnected sprawling buildings much like the branches that interweave a forest’s roof. A place where a trader could announce his latest success and sponsor the finest of celebrations, it was also where a quieter traveler could go unnoticed.
The latter was something Diana decided might be particularly helpful now. They arrived after darkfall and well after the more boisterous patrons had settled into the commons for drinks and food. They took care not to be seen together after their initial passage through the gates. With a trick of the cloak and Elana’s Sight, only the most alert of the patrons would notice the green-garbed Southern Trader occasionally appeared to be in two places at once. While Elana tended to the stabling, Diana sought out the manager. Due to their long acquaintance from her travels between Gronday and Colmar, she quickly procured a room and private bath without a public announcement.
She cautiously inquired if a pair of riders from the East had been seen that day. The manager regretfully reported that he knew of no parties out of the Keep for several days. It did not surprise her. Elana had been fairly confident that the messenger and his companion had avoided the Inn and continued on towards Colmar; despite the rain, Elana found that a few of their tracks had lingered, along with the glimmering edges of their horses’ amarin.
Between the cold and damp, Elana was more than willing to allow the Amazon to go in search of the odd bits of news and gossip in the crowded commons. With her own muddy breeches and bedraggled hair, Elana was not looking in the least like any man’s flirtatious young mala´, and she was tired enough to be relieved at not needing to bother with illusions. There was, she decided, a certain advantage in having a Shadowmate who could take care of herself.
Sighing with weary pleasure, Elana slipped into the private bathing room. Steam was rising from the stone encased pool, turning the air hot and humid. Wood slatted benches lined the walls, glass lamps burned brightly from above, and a plentiful supply of towels had been stacked to the side. A faint, musky scent like incense surrounded her, and she felt a prickle of apprehension along the suddenly exposed edge of her nerves. The memory of the lifebonding stirred, and Elana smiled at herself, gently accepting the place that jumbled corner of anxiety had within her. It had been a taxing few days.
She stripped the clothes from her body and slid into that inviting, steamy pool. Her skin was already deepening its color, and the languid warmth relaxed her chilled muscles. The taut, ragged knots inside her finally began to unwind. Her arms extended out as she laid back, floating upwards. She liked this room. The heavy stone was well laid with earthen mortar and the water was fresh. The wooden fixtures were soothing and protective. The stone insulated her from much of the throbbing world outside while the hot water cradled her near as if in a mother’s womb. She wondered if the Seers had a similar retreat hidden near the Keep. Surely they must?
Taking some soft soap from the corner, she dunked her hair again and with a cup, began to wash it. Her long tresses were thick, and Elana patiently, methodically worked the lather through, although her mind was only half on her task. The uneasiness that was still rising within her was reminiscent of childhood insecurities, and it turned her thoughts inward for the moment.
There had been so much that had happened in such a short time, yet, after so many tenmoons of waiting to meet this woman, there was an odd lack as well. The nervous, unsettled feelings persisted as she thought of Di’nay. Elana suddenly worried that the Mistress’ training was not enough, given the restless eons of waiting — given the way her heart rose to her throat at the sight of this Amazon. It was as if her physical attraction to Di’nay could draw in her Sight — narrow her vision until nothing else was clear. It frightened her to think of their attacker this afternoon. It had taken her such an inordinate amount of time to decipher the amarin of that… that? Her thoughts faltered and her blue eyes squeezed shut. Yes, that man — and Elana had her answer. The pieces had come together slowly because of his death and because of her role in it — not because of any charming distractions from Di’nay.
The hot tears stung as they slipped from her closed lids, and she sank down into the water, arching back to rinse her hair. Absently her hands moved as the tears thickened, and then she remembered Nightstorm’s liquid gaze — such a trusting touch. A sob escaped and she gave up on her hair. It had been too much — too much death. The detached corner of herself was losing its struggle, and with wet hands she wiped her tears aside as another sob broke from her.
Perhaps it had been necessary, but none of it had been right!
A foot shuffled, and her training cued danger. The pain hid; her eyes flew open as her hands clenched, hitting the water with a splash.
“Me — Di’nay.”
Unmoving they faced one another. The inner door had been bolted, Di’nay’s cloak and packages were thrown on the bench, and the Amazon stood within a step of the bathing pool. Seldom could anyone approach so near — then the pain came rushing back, and Elana barely managed to contain it. Her eyes flickered closed and then opened; an almost motionless battle of will, until the trembling began.
Diana shuddered as the aching wave brushed past her. Impulsively she reached for Elana, pulling her out of the water and into her arms as she sank down onto the broad edge of the bath.
“Cry,” Diana ordered softly, pressing the damp head to her shoulder. “It’s all right. Cry.”
And the strong arms held her as, with legs still dangling in the pool, Elana’s struggle ended. Her body shook with the sobbing and her skin grew flushed. For the first time in her adult life, Elana’s emotions overtook her completely.
“Cry — just cry,” and blinking back her own tears, Diana rocked her, protectively huddling her body around Elana’s a
s the anguish engulfed them both. She buried her face in the wet hair, realizing only that these tears sprang from loss. But she knew, it was going to be all right; somehow they would make it turn out right. Yet she still felt her helplessness rise as Elana crumpled almost in half with the tears.
Images came, flooding Diana with that blue-sighted grief. She saw the black colt tossing his head in his first halter… the Mistress nodding approval… Nightstorm grown, a muddied victim of death. She saw an old woman come to hold Elana, the newly come child… frightened, already regretting her choices. She saw the years of weapons practice with crossbow and bolts… the falling form of the Maltar’s soldier… the visions drifted apart only to form and tumble again into oblivion; and through it all, Diana’s sheltering arms held strong. It was all she could do.
Slowly the intensity began to subside. Elana’s hands loosened their bruising grip on Diana’s arms. Her body unbent slightly as her head lay against the linen clad shoulder. Still Diana kept her close, a gentle hand soothing as it stroked the damp, tangled hair.
A broken laugh weakly asserted itself as Elana noticed her companion was soaking wet. With effort she jested, “You did want a bath, yes?”
Diana chuckled faintly, saying, “Yes.”
Gingerly Elana moved then, exploring her body’s ability to respond to her commands. Without looking up she slipped back into the water, and Diana let her go. Elana splashed the tears from her face and found the water felt good. It seemed to help calm the ragged breathing that hurt her chest so much.
“It’s all right.” Diana spoke quietly, unmoving.
Elana turned to her. The amarin she found offered no pity, only care and concern. She nodded stiffly — thankfully.
“Do you want to tell me about it?” Diana’s voice was so gentle that Elana felt enfolded by her arms once more.
She sniffled, wiping the remains of her tears away. “It’s not one thing. Perhaps, a little of everything? Missing people, Nightstorm… I have never killed anyone.”
Shadows of Aggar (Amazons of Aggar) Page 12
