Firewalk

by Anne Logston

  “Apparently it is of less import than Terralt’s freedom to say whatever foul thing he likes,” Kayli replied. “And why, might I ask, should that be so?”

  Randon averted his eyes for just a moment, and in that instant Kayli wondered whether she had seen the barest flash of guilt in his expression; when he faced her again, however, his anger was as unyielding as before.

  “Since the moment my father proclaimed me Heir instead of Terralt, I’ve had to pander to Terralt’s pride, flatter him, argue with him, all but beg the man for his help,” Randon said flatly. “He knows the business of ruling this country, and I need that knowledge. I need the years he spent at Father’s side. The games I’ve played to get that cooperation! And now how am I to expect any assistance from him, now that you’ve humiliated him in public?”

  His fingers dug into Kayli’s arm, and she halted.

  “Release me,” she said quietly.

  Randon glared at her. “What?”

  “I said, release me.” Kayli met his eyes squarely. “You are my husband, not my master. I will not be dragged like a recalcitrant dog. Nor will I be admonished for defending myself against offenses I have borne far too long already. If you wish to let Terralt insult you at every opportunity, that is your affair, and if I choose otherwise, that is mine.”

  “Damn all, Kayli,” Randon said angrily, “the man’s lost what he thought was his birthright, and his wife may be dying.” Again that flash of guilt. “You could afford to be a little more charitable.”

  “Why, because he has lost the throne of Agrond, while all I have lost is my home, my kin, and my vocation in the Order?” Kayli retorted. “As to Ynea, I have done all I could to help her, rather than cosseting the pride of the man who withholds aid that might save her. And pray tell me, my lord, how many healers you summoned while Terralt was in Bregond?” Not waiting for Randon’s answer, Kayli pulled her arm free and walked back to the castle as quickly as she could, relieved beyond measure when neither the guards nor Randon followed.

  The servants scattered in astonishment when Kayli strode through the doorway. She started upstairs to her rooms, but then changed her mind and turned to the forge instead. At least there was one place in this castle, in this accursed country, that was hers, where she might expect privacy.

  As soon as she was through the door, Kayli yanked pins and chains from her hair, scrabbling at the fastenings to her elaborate gown. For a time she feared there was no getting out of the thing by herself; at last she tugged, wriggled, and, she feared, ripped her way out, dropping it and her jewelry into the corner. Her slippers, petticoats, and hose followed; then, clad only in her chemise, her braids hanging down her back, she dipped a bucket of water from the barrel and scrubbed her face and neck again and again until every last trace of powder and coloring was gone. She sat down in the corner, drawing up her knees and resting her forehead on her folded arms, and fought to keep from weeping.

  How naive she’d been to think that a child in her belly would solve all her troubles! The sacrifice of her life at the Order, her journey to an alien land to wed a stranger, the risk of her life several times, even the risk of her soul itself in the Rite of Renewal—none of it was enough. And there was nothing more she could give.

  Suddenly Kayli sat upright, her heart sinking as she realized the enormity of what she had done. Yes, she had humiliated Terralt in public, shattered the tenuous bond of cooperation probably beyond repair—but far more terrifying was the reason why she had done it. Kayli had acted blindly, impulsively, out of anger and—far worse—the petty desire for revenge, the malicious wish to inflict suffering in return for her own wounded pride. How much worse her own action than anything Terralt could have done to provoke it, for to him such behavior was only a manifestation of his own inner frailty, while Kayli had had a lifetime of training that should have let her shrug off such insults effortlessly. No, there was no possible excuse for such a breach of her self-discipline, nor for the smallness of soul to want to do such a thing.

  Kayli remembered her loss of control in the forge during the Rite of Renewal. That failure had nearly cost her her life and her soul; her lapse today might, as Randon said, hurt the country she had sworn to serve. Her self-control had failed her so many times since she had left the Order. Could it be that some fundamental flaw in her character had merely waited dormant in the orderly world of the temple, only to betray her under the pressure of her new position and responsibilities?

  Kayli shivered at the wave of despair that chilled her to the depths of her soul. There had been so many warnings of just such a possibility since she had left Bregond. If that was the case, she had been more fortunate than she knew to escape the Rite of Renewal intact. How could she ever dare perform any of the powerful rituals now? Why, dared she even attempt a firewalk now, especially with a child in her belly?

  Kayli dropped her head again, suddenly tempted to light the forge and let the Flame judge her, one way or the other. Now that she had alienated Randon, she was utterly alone in this strange place. Death, even a fiery death in the heart of the forge, seemed the kinder alternative.

  But she carried in her womb an innocent life which she had no right to cast away with her own. And even were that not so, she knew that she could never surrender to despair. After dedicating her life to grueling training, all to be consummated in one act of faith, gambling her life against the strength of her will—no. There was no surrender in her. Fear, disappointment, even despair—these were old enemies whom she had faced and defeated before.

  Kayli threw back her head suddenly and laughed.

  “I will walk through the fire,” she said aloud. “Let it consume what it will, and what remains is Kayli.”

  She stood, wondering at the sudden lightness of her heart, and returned to the bucket to wash tear tracks from her face. There was no hope of donning her gown without assistance, but she found her robe where Seba had folded it neatly in the corner. She wadded her clothing and jewelry into the best bundle she could manage and carried it upstairs in her arms, ignoring the stares of the servants she passed on the staircase. She had padded through the castle in her robe before and likely would again; best they get used to the sight now.

  Kayli dreaded that Randon would be waiting in her room, but to her surprise it was Endra who greeted her. The midwife smiled at her and, to her surprise, embraced her comfortingly.

  “Come in, child, and sit down,” Endra said, taking the bundle of Kayli’s clothes. “I’ve mulled you a mug of wine. If you’ll pardon my boldness, I’ve had the maids move your lord’s things to another room. The both of you need a day or two’s peace without your tempers striking sparks off each other. Now drink that and settle yourself down.”

  Kayli sighed with relief and let Endra ply her with the hot wine and crumbly pastries, even though she was neither hungry nor thirsty. The midwife’s solicitude fed another kind of hunger, a hunger of the heart for sympathy and caring that Kayli had not even known she felt.

  “I feel such a fool.” Kayli sighed, shaking her head “If you only knew—”

  “What, how you took Terralt’s words, chewed them up, and spit them back at him?” Endra chuckled. “Or about your spat with your lord? My lady, I’ll wager I’d heard the lot before you closed the forge door. It’s the talk of the castle. Don’t trouble yourself. A High Priestess might’ve uttered a harsh word or two by now. And just as well your lord and his brother learn that the fine lady has teeth and claws of her own.”

  “No.” Kayli shook her head decisively. “I will not allow myself to become so provoked again.”

  Endra chuckled knowingly.

  “Ah, my lady, there speaks the temple-raised child who’s had no dealings with childbearing before starting her own. Ah, my lady, don’t look so astonished; I talk with Brother Stevann every day, and shame to you that he had to bear me the news. In any wise, flares of temper are the least of the odd twists you’ll feel in the next months, so best you and your lord resign yourselves to
it”

  Kayli sighed.

  “But I did a terrible thing, Endra,” she said. “I humiliated Terralt, and before many onlookers. I fear he will withhold the assistance Randon needs from him.”

  “I’d have to agree,” Endra said reluctantly. “He’s got the servants packing his things to move into the city.”

  Kayli bolted up out of her chair, fear spearing through her.

  “But he must not do that!” she said, horrified. “Randon needs him. And Ynea, she must not be removed from your care and Brother Stevann’s!” She took a deep, steadying breath. “No. I will speak with him.”

  “I don’t know as that’s a wise idea,” Endra said slowly. “I’ll wager his own temper’s burning hot right now.”

  “I lit that fire, and I will be the one to extinguish it,” Kayli said firmly. “Help me dress. Whatever good Randon thinks of his brother, I will not appear before him in my robe.”

  Only a few moments, later she knocked on Terralt’s door. She had had some difficulty locating it; she knew Terralt kept rooms separate from his wife, but she could not bring herself to ask the servants for directions.

  Terralt opened the door. Kayli saw surprise in his eyes, but his expression did not change; he merely opened the door wider and stepped aside to let her enter.

  Endra had not exaggerated. Although it was little more than an hour since the argument in the courtyard, the open trunks around the room were half-full of clothes. Several maids halted in their packing, stared at Kayli in surprise, and fled the room even before Terralt could wave them away. Kayli wondered miserably what new rumors the High Lady’s visit alone to Terralt’s bedchamber might occasion.

  “Whatever more you’ve come to say,” Terralt said without prelude, “I don’t especially want to hear it.”

  Kayli took a deep breath.

  “I came to apologize,” she said quietly. “What I did was inexcusable—not what I said, for the Flame knows it was true, but why I said it, and when, and where. I have disgraced myself and shamed my teachings, and I ask that you forgive me.”

  “Did Randon send you?” Terralt said rather bitterly. “To see that his valuable assistant doesn’t leave the High Lord to fend for himself, I suppose.”

  “Randon,” Kayli said steadily, “is furious with me, as I am with him, and he did not send me. Whatever troubles are between you and Randon are your own, and my poor conduct is my own responsibility and not Randon’s.”

  “Mmm.” Terralt folded his arms and gazed at her consideringly. “So you’re saying that I shouldn’t leave simply because I’m angry at you.”

  “Yes.” Kayli met his gaze squarely.

  “And what,” Terralt said slowly, his eyes narrowed, “makes you think you understand anything about why I do anything?”

  “But—”

  Kayli was not allowed to finish whatever she might have said; without warning, Terralt seized her shoulders and covered her lips with his.

  Kayli froze, stunned at first by the outrageousness of his action, and then, even more astonishingly, by the sudden surge of fire that shot through her body, burning her will to ashes. At last Terralt released her, turning abruptly away.

  “You’d best go now,” Terralt said, rather coldly, still not facing her. “I have a great deal of packing to supervise.” He glanced at her, then away again. “I’m leaving Ynea here. And I’ve already left word for Randon that I’ll be here tomorrow. To work.” Now he faced her again, and all the old mockery was back in his eyes. “Or did you truly believe I’d place my injured pride ahead of the welfare of my country? You wound me to the quick, my lady.” He opened the door and stepped aside, plainly dismissing her.

  Kayli, too bemused to think of any response, made her escape as quickly as she could. She hurried back to her quarters, helpless to prevent herself from glancing over her shoulder every few steps. As she crept into her room like a thief slinking away from her crime, she wondered whether she had looked to see if the servants had observed her leaving Terralt’s room—or if she looked to see whether Terralt was watching her go.

  Her room was empty, and while otherwise Kayli would have appreciated the solitude, now she felt an uneasy desire for company. Well—

  Fortunately when Kayli arrived at Ynea’s door, the maid who answered her knock told her that Ynea was awake.

  “She’d be grateful for the company.” The maid nodded, smiling. “She’s fair chewing the blankets.”

  Ynea was pale and wan after the morning’s exertion, her lips an alarming blue color, but she sat upright, an untouched tray of food beside her. Her thin face lit in a smile when she saw Kayli in the doorway.

  “Oh, Kayli, I’m so glad you’ve come,” she said with a sigh. “And how kind of you to make the time on your wedding day. Can you sit for a little while?”

  “Gladly,” Kayli said, almost dizzy with relief. “But only if you will eat your supper. Endra would never forgive me if I made you miss your meal.” She glanced down at the tray, wincing inwardly at the bowl of broth and chopped raw liver. It looked altogether too much like what she had been served while she was fasting, or sick.

  Ynea followed Kayli’s gaze and smiled.

  “I told Endra and Stevann that I am so tired of cow’s liver, especially uncooked,” she said. “So today I have the liver of the dragon Terralt killed, and broth from its flesh. A small change, but a pleasant one.” Her eyes twinkled at Kayli. “Were you pleased with the dragon?”

  “Very pleased,” Kayli said honestly. “I had never tasted it before. It was a magnificent gift.” She hesitated, wondering what Ynea had heard of the argument in the courtyard. Surely Terralt was not leaving without informing his wife?

  Ynea laid her thin white hand on Kayli’s strong brown fingers and smiled sympathetically.

  “You mustn’t allow my husband to wound you with his gibes,” she said gently. “I swear to you he was kinder when he believed life treated him less harshly. I’m afraid he’s become accustomed to saying what he will without anyone taking him to task for it. He’s a good man, but sometimes his goodness is hard to see through his anger.”

  Kayli sighed.

  “Randon is very angry with me as well,” she admitted. “And he is right. I shamed myself with my vengefulness.”

  “Well, if that was shaming yourself, then I hate to imagine how you’d judge it if you had slapped his face, which any woman worth her salt would have done,” Ynea said with a sigh. “And I doubt that Randon is truly angry at you. More likely he’s angry at himself. Men are like that—he’s ashamed that he’s tolerated Terralt’s insults, to him and to you. But he tolerates it because he believes he must, and tries to forget that he’s ashamed. So he becomes angry with you, because you dare to speak out when he doesn’t. Men are easily pricked where their pride is concerned. Poor Terralt, I think, is constantly chafed raw.”

  Kayli was silent How could Ynea defend this man who had treated her so poorly? And would she continue to defend him if she knew how Terralt had behaved toward Kayli in his room?

  “But there’s another matter I’d like to discuss with you,” Ynea said. She pulled the bell rope at her bedside; a moment later the same maid Kayli had seen before peered in.

  “Bring in my children, please,” Ynea said.

  Ynea had mentioned the children before, but Kayli was seeing them for the first time. The eldest, that was Derrin, perhaps four years old, and heartbreakingly serious looking for a boy so young. The three-year-old would be Avern, and the little girl, still unsteady on her chubby legs and clinging to the maid’s hand, that would be Erisa. Erisa and Avern were dark-haired like Ynea and big-boned like Terralt, but Derrin was slighter of build, his hair a glorious dark auburn.

  “Children, this is High Lady Kayli, High Lord Randon’s wife,” Ynea said, beckoning them forward. “Come and greet her; by marriage she is your aunt.”

  Silently they came forward, the boys bowing soberly, little Erisa trying awkwardly to curtsy. None of them said a word.


  Kayli hesitated; she’d had no experience with young children, but these stiff, silent children almost broke her heart. She dropped to her knees on the floor and smiled, extending her arms.

  “I am so pleased to meet my nephews and my niece,” she said warmly. “In Bregond children embrace their kinfolk. Or are Agrondish children afraid of their aunts, when they are so fearsome as I?”

  The children exchanged dubious glances, and finally it was little Erisa who toddled forward and slipped her fat little arms around Kayli’s neck. The boys hesitantly followed their sister’s example, and Kayli felt a pang when they gave Ynea an equally perfunctory embrace and left as silently as they had come.

  Ynea sighed when the children had gone, and Kayli was alarmed to see how much of the animation had drained from the young woman’s face. Her eyes had sunk far back in her head, surrounded by dark rings of exhaustion, and Kayli thought Ynea was clinging to consciousness by will alone.

  “I’ve had so little part in their lives,” Ynea murmured, as if to herself. “I couldn’t even nurse them. Terralt chose the governesses and tutors who raised them. I feel I’ve done them a terrible wrong, but perhaps it’s for the best. Perhaps when I’m gone they won’t feel much loss.”

  “Ynea—” Kayli began, fear stabbing at her heart.

  Ynea raised one hand.

  “Please,” she said gently. “I’m no fool. Stevann smiles and makes fine-fine noises when he examines me, but I can see the truth in his eyes. Your maid Endra is more honest, thank the Bright Ones. I’m tired of kindly meant lies. And I’ve felt the presence of death growing within me as surely as I’ve felt my child grow there. I pray to the Bright Ones I’ll live to see the face of my last child, but I don’t hope for more than that.”

  “Oh, Ynea,” Kayli said, dread settling like shadows around the room. Ynea had said in plain words what Kayli had not let herself acknowledge. “You must not believe—”

  Ynea held up a hand again, gazing into Kayli’s eyes.

  “No,” she said quietly. “I want our friendship a true one, with no lies spoken between us even to give comfort. That’s the second greatest kindness you can do me. But I have one other boon to ask of you.”