Firewalk

by Anne Logston

  “I can’t say I liked the first taste,” he admitted. “But it seemed to get better as I went along.”

  “Honesty. I like that,” Elaasar said, nodding again. He turned to Kayli. “Jaenira, Fidaya, and Laalen send their love. Laalen’s chest is paining her again, so we saw no need to drag her so near the wetlands. Fidaya’s wedding was a great occasion, and Jaenira has been blessed with a healthy son.”

  Kayli felt a sudden pang of homesickness. Would she ever see her sister’s child? Most likely not, nor would Jaenira ever see hers.

  “Kairi, too, has reason to celebrate,” Nerina said, gesturing at Kairi’s robe. “We were permitted to attend her ascension less than a tenday past. We’re hoping that her temple will permit her to serve her vocation at our castle.”

  “Mother, you know better,” Kairi said with gentle reproof. “A water-Dedicate could no more serve her vocation at the High Lord’s castle than a peat cutter on the steppes. I would best serve Bregond by moving with the nomads through the driest lands, where I am needed.”

  She turned to Kayli and smiled. “I wish some of the grazing trails passed nearer the border,” she said. “There was a good rain in the making here. I hated to turn it aside.”

  “Oh, that was you?” Randon asked, impressed. “We ran into that storm; I blamed my weather mages.” Then he raised his eyebrows. “That’s quite a feat, turning a storm like that by yourself. From what Stevann has told me, it generally takes two or three weather mages working together.”

  Kairi smiled slightly at the praise, and Kayli explained, “Agrondish mages are not...specialized as ours, but learn many different types of magic.”

  Kayli’s comment loosed a veritable flood of questions about Agrond, its mages, the rivers, the rain—Kayli could see the amazement in her father and mother’s eyes when Randon spoke of the quantities of vegetables and grain produced every year, and near disbelief when he told them of the terrible flooding which had caused so much damage recently.

  “Can you imagine,” Nerina said softly. “Too much rain.”

  “Someday I would like to make a pilgrimage to Agrond,” Kairi said suddenly. “To study these wonderful waters.”

  “You’d be doubly welcome,” Randon told her. “I could arrange a ship to sail down the Dezarin to the ocean itself; you can’t find much more water than that.”

  Everyone was silent for a long moment, and Kayli knew they were trying (and most likely failing, like her) to imagine a body of water so huge as to have, in all practicality, no end. Kayli shivered at the thought; how could there be so much water in one part of the world and not enough for Bregond?

  “Well, we’ve got water, but no horses like the ones Kayli brought,” Randon said. “Hunting on Carada is like riding the wind.”

  Nerina smiled and flushed, and Elaasar laughed.

  “My lady won’t take credit for her accomplishment,” he said. “She founded our stable at the castle, spent over a decade crossing the best lines in Bregond. Your brother told us Kayli had guessed right what would please you.” He glanced rather calculatingly at Randon. “We’ll speak tomorrow of our countries. But in the afternoon I’d ask you and my daughter to join us hunting the great plains boar. If the earth favors us, we’ll feast on his flesh for supper.”

  Randon laughed easily.

  “I’ve been looking forward to hunting with you,” he said. “But I can’t possibly allow you to host me for two suppers one after the other. So tomorrow night, why don’t we let my cook impress you instead?”

  This was agreeable. Randon used the opening to remind Elaasar and Nerina that he had brought gifts that had yet to be presented. To Kayli’s relief, Randon had indeed thought carefully before making his selections, and Kayli realized with wonder how much attention he had paid to her stories of home. For Elaasar he had brought a handsome pipe carved of Agrondish rosewood and a pouch of southern pipeweed to fill it; for Nerina there were seeds of the most colorful and hardiest flowers from the castle gardens. For Kairi there was an elegant silver bowl for water-scrying, and for Danine, Melia, and Kirsa there were boxes of sweets and cunningly carved wooden toys. Randon had brought a selection of the wonderful Agrondish rainbow-hued silk threads for Laalen’s embroidery, and while Nerina promised to give Kayli’s sister the gift, she said she was so envious of her own daughter that Randon had to laughingly promise her a similar collection, to be sent by messenger at the first opportunity.

  To Kayli’s surprise, Elaasar and Nerina had gifts for them also—two wonderful cloaks of the finest amber-red plains-wolf pelts and lined with hide even softer than the velvety fur. Kayli did not know if Agrondish winters were as harsh as those in Bregond, but she would wager that the wonderful thick fur would withstand even an Agrondish downpour.

  “I never imagined my first meeting with the High Lord of Bregond going so well,” Randon said contentedly as they walked back to their own camp. “I felt as comfortable at his table as at Lidian’s. Maybe more; I never had to worry that your father might’ve tried to have you killed.”

  Kayli laughed.

  “You and my father are much alike,” she said. “You are both cunning in putting someone at their ease when that is what you want. I think the two of you will get along famously.”

  Randon suddenly stopped, causing the guards behind them to backtrack hastily.

  “Look at those stars,” he said wonderingly. “I don’t know that I’ve ever seen the sky so clear.”

  Kayli gazed up, too. Clouds always seemed to fill Agrond’s sky. The stars were old friends whose faces she had sorely missed.

  “There you are!” She could not make out the face of the figure approaching them in the darkness, but Lord Kereg’s voice was unmistakable. “What happened at the supper?”

  “We ate,” Randon said, irritation sharpening his voice. “We spoke of horses and hunting. Do you want to know how many mouthfuls of bread High Lord Elaasar took, or how many times he chewed them?”

  After a long silence, Lord Kereg spoke again, and Kayli could hear the anger under his level voice.

  “I want to know anything, anything at all, that could help us in the meeting tomorrow. All we know about these people is what your wife has told us, and—your pardon, High Lady—that may not be everything she knows.”

  “Lord Kereg,” Randon said tiredly, “it’s late, and Kayli and I rode all day. I have no desire for an inquisition standing here in the dark.”

  Lord Kereg muttered something angrily, excused himself, and strode away. Randon led Kayli to their tent, shaking his head in irritation.

  “Well, it was a pleasant evening,” Randon said ruefully. “Do me a favor, Kayli. He and Lady Tarkas and Lord Disian won’t be any happier tomorrow when I pull the reins on them. But let me be the one to do it; what they’ll take from me they might not tolerate from you.”

  Kayli and Randon rose early in the morning to dress for the meeting, then met Lord Kereg, Lady Tarkas, and Lord Disian. Kayli had to stifle her surprise—and amusement—when Randon announced without preamble that only he and Kayli would negotiate with High Lord Elaasar and High Lady Nerina. When all three would have protested, Randon raised a hand to silence them.

  “I’ve learned a great deal more from Kayli about her family than you have,” he said. “Last night I sat in friendship with the High Lord and Lady of Bregond. I won’t endanger that friendship now. You’re welcome to attend with me, but you’ll only be advising me and Kayli. And only when I—we—ask for that advice. As you say, it’s a delicate situation.”

  This time, to Kayli’s dismay, almost every single guard in camp accompanied them across the border, flanking Lord Disian’s wagons filled with trade goods. There was formality, too, in the Bregondish guards that met them in their best armor, swords polished to a fine sparkle.

  There were, of course, the obligatory courtesies as High Lord Elaasar and High Lady Nerina were announced, together with Brother Santee, representing the Holy Orders of Bregond, Herdmaster Rakas, who spoke for the ho
rse and ikada clans, and Wagonmistress Ishera, who coordinated the merchant caravans with the movement and seasonal needs of the clans. Kayli stifled a pang of disappointment when she saw Brother Santee; she had hoped that someone from her own Order might come. Then she realized to her chagrin that she might be the reason why they had not; when Kayli had sent no word for so long, the assumption by the Order would be that she wished to be left to her new life. Despite Brisi’s permission to continue her studies, the Order had no obligation to track her like a mother might a wandering child.

  Kayli’s greatest surprise came, however, when Kairi joined them at the table and Elaasar and Nerina introduced her as their Heir to the throne of Bregond. The announcement at least explained Kairi’s presence outside of her Order so soon after her ascension; for the first face-to-face negotiations between Bregond and Agrond, an Heir must of course be chosen and present.

  Kayli quickly found that her father and Randon were indeed as alike in their way of thinking as she had said. Brother Santee, Rakas, and Ishera sat quietly, saying little except when the High Lord and Lady addressed them. Kayli, too, largely kept her peace, feeling she could say little about Agrond that Randon could not say better, and even less about Bregond than her father or mother might. Elaasar and Nerina ignored Randon’s occasional mangling of Agrondish language or custom, and Randon omitted the courtly deviousness Kayli had seen so often—or, perhaps, she realized, he employed an even subtler form of manipulation in that very omission.

  Randon’s advisers relaxed slightly when he called on them to demonstrate the advantages of their offerings and to comment on Bregondish merchandise. Both sets of advisers gradually thawed as each grew enthusiastic over some new discovery. By the time the six were unabashedly chatting with each other, bargaining strategy, cultural differences, and their respective rulers forgotten, Kayli realized that they now had a perfect opportunity to adjourn the meeting for their hunt; the advisers would undoubtedly hammer out a trade agreement on their own.

  At midday, Nerina called a halt to the proceedings.

  “I’m certain we could continue all day,” she said, smiling, “but our countries can’t prosper if their rulers starve. Come, a light dinner, and then Kayli and Randon will ride with us to hunt and tomorrow there will be time for more talk.”

  After supper, however, when Kayli would have returned with Randon to camp to change clothes, Kairi caught at her sleeve.

  “Let me walk with you,” she murmured. “We have had no opportunity to speak privately.”

  “Of course,” Kayli said gladly. “Randon, would you object—”

  “Not a bit,” Randon said stoutly. “I’ll walk ahead, and I’ll change my clothes in my attendants’ tent so you and your sister can talk.”

  When they were alone, however (except for the guards who followed at a discreet distance), Kairi remained silent, gazing at Kayli expectantly. Kairi at last took her hand.

  “Tell me what troubles you,” she said quietly. “I can feel the energies swirling unchecked around you like a windstorm. Tell me what has happened.”

  For a moment Kayli agonized over the dilemma. The Rite of Renewal was a secret of her Order, and Kairi was not entitled to hear it. At last, however, desperation won and Kayli told the whole story from the beginning. Kairi remained impassive throughout the tale, but when Kayli finished, she shook her head.

  “You have woven a tangled web about yourself,” she said slowly. “Have you spoken to your mentor?”

  “No,” Kayli admitted. “I feared her reprimand, but even more I feared learning that I had done some irreparable harm to myself or my child, or even to Randon.”

  “So far as I know,” Kairi said carefully, “no one with the mage-gift was ever missed by testing, then later Awakened without training. No wonder he Awakened you so easily; in the same way that your magic affects him, his own Flame spark quickly set yours ablaze. Exposure to his uncontrolled magic may well have caused the problems in your own control. I am certain High Priestess Brisi would never permit you to be Awakened by this man if she had known.”

  “But it is too late for that,” Kayli said anxiously. “Kairi, what can I do? Can you help me?”

  Kairi shook her head.

  “I have only just become priestess myself,” she said regretfully. “But these matters are best addressed by your own Order. You must speak to your mentor. Perhaps she will come to you to help you, or perhaps a journey might be arranged for you to visit the Order, which would be safer from a magical standpoint. In the meantime I offer this advice: First, continue to drain his magical energies. I do not know whether in the long term such contact will help Randon or harm him, but the alternative seems more dangerous. Second, refrain from practicing your art until you regain your control. I need not tell you how dangerous fire magic unleashed could be.”

  “I would call High Priestess Brisi this moment, but I left my speaking crystal in Tarkesh,” Kayli said unhappily. “Could I use yours?”

  “Brother Santee has the crystal,” Kairi apologized. “As he represents the Orders here, he must contact them periodically. Tomorrow I will borrow it back for you.”

  True to his word, Randon had taken his clothes and left the tent to Kayli and her sister. Kayli gladly exchanged her finery for her riding clothes while Kairi unbraided her hair, combed it out, and braided it again comfortably for riding. Sensing Kayli’s worry, and perhaps sharing it, Kairi kindly turned their conversation to more ordinary matters. She was eager to hear whatever Kayli would tell her of Agrond, and when Kayli recounted her swim in Randon’s forest pond, Kairi laughed and hugged her sister.

  “Yes, I have submerged myself in the water many times,” she said. “And now it holds no fear for me. But to you it must be as terrifying as to me if I threw myself into the forge. You were very brave to do such a thing.” She sighed. “I dream of submerging myself in this great southern sea, surrendering myself to its might, to feel the purest power of water in this world.”

  Kayli sobered, clutching her sister’s hand.

  “Perhaps too much surrender to the powers we serve is not a good thing,” she said slowly.

  Kairi sighed again.

  “As you have learned. Well, you and I must content ourselves with dabbling our feet in the surf, so to speak.” She shook her head. “Sister, your anxiety is as contagious as late-winter sneezes. Come, let us find your horse and your husband before they both give up and leave without you.”

  Randon was indeed waiting with the horses, his jaffs tied properly, and Maja and Carada were saddled, her bow and Randon’s crossbow already strapped to the saddles.

  When Kayli and Randon met Elaasar, Nerina, and Danine and saw that only four of the Bregondish guards were going to accompany them on the hunt, Randon sent back all but four of his own guards, and the thirteen of them rode out onto the plains together. For some time they sighted no large game, although Danine sighted and shot a good-sized chakene; the bird went into the young girl’s game bag, and from time to time she reached back as she rode and patted the lump in the sack proudly.

  Kayli was beginning to wonder disappointedly whether they would have to return to camp with nothing but Danine’s bird when her father held up his hand, halting the group, and gestured at a large clump of brambles ahead. Randon nodded immediately, but Kayli had to look long and hard before she spotted the telltale white flash of a tusk boar’s stubby tail among the thorns.

  Nerina signaled to Danine to retire, and the disappointed girl rode back a short distance. Nerina, Elaasar, Kayli, and Randon moved their horses downwind, carefully positioned so they would not shoot across each other’s path. The other guards fell back with Danine, except for three who rode around to the back to flush out the boar.

  Kayli knocked her arrow, breathing deeply; she smelled the distinctive musk of the male tusk boar on the wind, and that struck a note of warning in her mind. If she could smell the boar from this distance, he was in rut and easily angered. She glanced over at Randon, but he was intent
on the thicket.

  Apparently her father signaled the guards while Kayli was not looking, for their charge from the back of the thicket was marked by shouts and the thunder of hoofbeats, followed by an outraged thrashing from the brambles. To Kayli’s horror, not one, but two tusk boars, one male and one female, flushed from the thicket, squealing in anger.

  Hunting strategy forgotten, Kayli loosed her arrow; to her dismay, it buried itself in the female’s thick neck instead of the vulnerable spot under the ear. At the same time Randon’s crossbow shaft struck solidly near Kayli’s arrow, and Kayli was certain that surely one had penetrated the great neck vein, but the enraged sow never paused, only turning on its most recent tormentor, Randon, who was now reloading his crossbow.

  Without thinking, Kayli urged Maja forward into the sow’s path. The mare responded as perfectly as Kayli could have hoped, drawing the sow’s attention, then dancing nimbly sideways while Kayli snatched another arrow from her quiver. Dimly she heard the shouts of the guards behind her, the sound of hoofbeats, the squealing of the boar, but her concentration had narrowed to the sow and the tip of her arrow. She fired, but Maja’s dancing caused her arrow to barely skim the sow’s hide and thunk into the ground instead. A scream from behind her—Kayli recognized her mother’s voice, and true fear leaped up in her heart. This time, despite her tension, she let the sow change direction and charge, and when she loosed her third arrow, the point buried itself solidly in the sow’s right eye, even as Randon’s crossbow bolt hit the spot under the ear. Momentum carried the sow forward to the ground where she lay, twitching slightly.

  Randon’s horse flashed past, and Maja responded to Kayli’s slight shift in seat, turning so swiftly that the arrow Kayli was drawing nearly fell from her hand. As her horse turned, Kayli saw what prompted Randon’s haste—not Nerina, but her father was on the ground scrambling for his dropped bow, his horse belly-gored and dying as the boar set itself for another charge.

  This time Captain Beran interposed his horse, trying to distract the boar’s charge, but the boar found the man on the ground an easier target. Nerina loosed an arrow which would have pierced the heart but for the thick muscle of the boar’s chest, and this time the beast turned, charging her instead.