Binding Spell (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms)

by Pope, Christine

  My eyes widened, and I looked down at once into my mug of cider so he couldn’t see my expression.

  After a few more heated remarks, he slammed the door shut once again and turned back to me. “Very well,” he said, and although his tone was still taut and angry, he appeared to be back in control. “I know you aren’t Princess Lyarris. Who are you?”

  I wanted to ask him how he knew for certain, but obviously something in my face had given me away. No doubt Princess Lyarris’ and my features were not terribly similar, despite our general resemblance to one another. Of course I had never met her, while it was possible he had actually seen the Crown Princess at the Sirlendian court once upon a time. I had heard that her eyes were dark, while mine were sea-grey, the same color as my father’s. But I knew better than to let my curiosity get the better of me. I would have to tread cautiously.

  Perhaps if I told the Mark who I really was, he would simply let me go. If he’d been angling to capture the Crown Princess, then ransom — at least of the ordinary sort — clearly wasn’t his motive. I had not given any hint that I had guessed at his identity, so perhaps there was a chance, if however slim, of getting out of this unscathed.

  “My name is Lark Sedassa,” I said, after a perceptible pause.

  The level brows lifted slightly, but his expression did not change. “The exile’s daughter?”

  I felt somewhat surprised he had heard of my father, or of me, but I only nodded. “Yes.”

  For a moment he was silent. He crossed his arms and then seemed to nod to himself. “Do you know who I am?” he asked at length.

  I shook my head. “No, my lord.”

  He actually laughed. “You are a poor liar, Lark Sedassa. I saw your face as I was speaking with Lamakh. You may not understand the corraghar tongue, but you caught something.”

  The corraghar. Of course. The hill tribe of North Eredor, sometimes referred to as the “people of the wolf.” This Kadar Arkalis’ father had been one of them, and that was why the sight of Kadar’s golden eyes had awoken a whisper of memory within me. I had never seen one of the corraghar in person before, although I had read about them.

  Denials rushed to my lips, but I had a feeling they would be useless. So I faced him squarely and replied, “You are the Mark of North Eredor, my lord.”

  “Very good, Lark. So let me ask you another question. If our places were reversed, what would you do?”

  “I’d let me go,” I said at once.

  That reply elicited another laugh. “No doubt you would. But if such a thing were not feasible?”

  Despite the warmth of the room, another of those trailing fingers of cold ran down my spine. “You certainly have no need of a ransom.”

  His smile faded. “You might be surprised. Unlike Sirlende, my kingdom is not overburdened with wealth. However, that was not my intent, as you may have guessed.”

  “It would seem you are at an impasse, then, my lord,” I remarked.

  “Perhaps…perhaps not.” He ran a thoughtful finger along his chin and gave me an appraising look. “Your family is very powerful.”

  “A family of wine merchants?” I asked, my tone all innocence. Of course I knew he could not be referring to the prosperous but simple folk on my mother’s side of the family. True, my great-grandfather on that side had been the second son of a baron, but I doubted that mattered much to Kadar Arkalis.

  “Don’t be disingenuous. Your mother’s kin are of no import, of course, but the Sedassas…the duchy of Marric’s Rest is one of the greatest in Sirlende. And your brother has already ridden forth to take control of the Sedassa estates and titles?”

  “You are very well-informed, my lord,” I remarked, but I found I did not like at all where this conversation seemed to be heading.

  “I make it my business to know things. So perhaps I gambled and did not win the prize I sought, but that does not mean I cannot console myself with a lesser reward.”

  The nausea of the ride reasserted itself. I swallowed the sour lump of fear before replying, “I fear I do not know what you mean, my lord.”

  “Do you not? If you would prefer that I spell it out for you, then I will do so.” Kadar stepped closer and stared down at me, and once again I realized how thin my shift was. I had to fight to keep myself from crossing my arms over my breasts; I did not wish to attract his attention any more than I already had. “I sought to take the Crown Princess for my own, but fate seems to have deprived me of that prize. However, I have you, sister to the man who will soon become one of Sirlende’s greatest lords. Who would willingly give up the chance at such a connection?”

  Who indeed? I sat there, mute, fearing what was about to come next and desperately hoping he meant something else altogether.

  “You are weary, and so we will pass the night in this lodge,” he went on. “Have no fear — you will not be compromised. My guards will attest to the fact that I spent my night here in front of the fire, while you slept in the bedchamber.”

  The smallest sensation of relief crept over me. Perhaps my fate wouldn’t be quite as terrible as I feared. But then my hopes crumbled into dust at Kadar’s next words.

  “After all,” he said, “I want my bride’s virtue to be unimpeachable. We will ride tomorrow for my capital, where we will be married. And then the great lords of Sirlende will be forced to treat with me as an equal.”

  I found I had no strength to reply. I could only continue to stare up at him, my mouth dry, and wonder what on earth I could do to extricate myself from this impossible situation.

  * * *

  Kadar was as good as his word. After our exchange, he showed me to the lodge’s one sleeping chamber, whose door he locked firmly behind me. I saw little of use in there, although the low chest at the foot of the bed did yield a clean shift to replace my dirty one. A further search revealed nothing else, not even a gown or a pair of shoes. Surely he had known I — that is, the Crown Princess — would have come here directly from her bed and would need to be outfitted. But perhaps those items were being kept elsewhere, held until the moment of leave-taking. No doubt he had supposed that a woman of high birth would not dare to make an escape attempt while wearing only her chemise.

  He hadn’t counted on me, however. I’d walk out of there naked if I had to. Not that I hoped things would come to such a pass. The Mark also hadn’t counted on his captive having certain forbidden talents; much care had been taken over the years to ensure that knowledge of my magical gifts was limited only to my immediate family. True, I often wished I possessed more skill, and that the spells in my arsenal were more powerful, but oftentimes outright force is not necessary, when the same goals can be accomplished by stealth.

  The sleep charm was simple enough, and used very little of my energy. I lay down on the bed, closed my eyes, and began the deep breathing exercises my father had taught me to center myself and collect the power I needed to effect the spell. Because I had to radiate calm for the charm to work, I thrust all thought of Kadar’s intentions out of my mind, and instead concentrated only on the soothing solace of deepest sleep.

  Still with my eyes shut, I let my consciousness move away from the room in which I lay, out to where the Mark of Eredor slept on the divan in front of the fire. I murmured the words, and his slumber deepened to the point where one would have to drop a heavy weight on his head to stir him. Then I moved on to where Lamakh stood guard outside the front door. Although awake, he was very weary from his long ride. It took little enough effort to work the charm on him as well. His eyelids drooped, and he sagged to a messy heap across the doorstep.

  The last two men I found in the kitchen, and again it was but the work of a moment to increase their natural weariness to the point where they both succumbed as well. Both their heads fell with an audible crack against the kitchen table. Oh, dear. Well, they might have a few bumps and bruises in the morning, but otherwise they would awaken unharmed.

  Once I knew the household would not be roused by my movements, I climbed off
the bed and went to the door. Yes, Kadar had locked it, but it was a simple mechanism, and I knew I could bespell it with little problem.

  “Sorichar,” I whispered, and at once I heard a clink as the lock released and the door swung outward.

  So far, so good. I moved out into the short corridor and then on into the front room, where Kadar’s snores emerged from behind the high back of the divan. His high boots tempted me as they dangled over the worn upholstery. It was cold outside…so very cold. Even a pair of over-large boots would serve me better than to go barefoot in the freezing mud. In his spelled sleep, he would never know of the theft until long after I was gone.

  I grasped one boot and began to tug…only to have a bronzed hand grasp me by the wrist. Kadar Arkalis sat upright and demanded,

  “What, precisely, were you planning on doing with my footwear?”

  Chapter 2

  I let go of the boot as if it had scorched my fingertips. Kadar sat upright, those odd golden eyes surveying me with a sort of amused suspicion. “Planning a little expedition, were you?”

  “I — ”

  His gaze flickered past me to the bedroom’s open door. “That was locked.”

  “It didn’t catch,” I lied. The last thing I wanted was for him to suspect me of possessing any powers out of the ordinary; he might have caught me now, but I refused to give up. My magic could still possibly help me…as long as Kadar didn’t know anything about it.

  “Indeed.” He swung his still-booted feet off the arm of the divan and stood. “If you are so eager to leave, then we might as well set out now.”

  He couldn’t be serious. “But your men have had no time to rest — ”

  “Your solicitude does you credit, but it is of no matter. They have ridden farther on less sleep, I assure you.”

  His raised left eyebrow mocked me. Of course he must know that my reluctance to set forth had absolutely nothing to do with the sleepless state of his servants and everything to do with my desire to delay our arrival in North Eredor for as long as possible.

  “And what of me?” I asked — quite coolly, I thought. Or at least I hoped. “Am I to have no rest?”

  “I believe your attempted theft of my boots proves that you require no further sleep.”

  I knew then I could say nothing to change his mind, so I only set my chin and looked away from him. He had fairly caught me. Why my spell had fallen so lightly on him, I did not know. Such things were never foolproof, even in my father’s far more capable hands. Perhaps I had forgotten a syllable, or spoken the words too quickly.

  Or perhaps Kadar Arkalis’ will was simply too strong. According to my father, some people could be notoriously difficult to enchant; their spirits were not easily bent. I hoped that was not the case here. My future would be bleak indeed if it turned out my captor was one of the rare few immune to those helpful little charms.

  He strode away from me and flung open the front door of the lodge, then prodded the prone form of his retainer none too gently with the toe of his boot. “A fine guard you make!” he snapped.

  Lamakh rolled over and stared up at Kadar with bleary eyes. Realization must have set in, for after a second or two he scrambled to his feet, stammering what sounded like apologies.

  “Enough,” said his master. “We ride within the quarter-hour. Splash some cold water on your face and get moving.”

  At once Lamakh nodded. Without looking at me, he hurried off toward the kitchen, calling out something in the rough corraghar tongue.

  “It would seem that your ride has wearied my servant,” Kadar observed dryly. But the golden eyes narrowed a bit as he surveyed me.

  “We did ride very hard and fast, my lord.” Despite my present circumstances, it was only with difficulty that I kept my lips from quirking.

  “Indeed.” He sent me another one of those quick, sidelong glances before continuing, “You, of course, will require something a bit more substantial for the journey.”

  As I watched, he moved to a large chair pushed up against the room’s far wall. I noticed that the chair was heaped with saddlebags, as if someone had dropped them there in haste. He pushed two aside, then undid the buckles on one and pulled out a wad of blue cloth.

  “Perhaps not as fine as what you’re used to, but it will keep you warm on the ride to Tarenmar. Come, take it.”

  I stepped forward and took the bundle from him. It turned out to be a gown of blue wool, plainly made, with no embroidery or trim to enliven the design. But the fabric itself felt soft and warm. I knew I would be grateful for it once I was back out in the cold air.

  But I had no intention of thanking him for this small bit of courtesy. I only nodded and began to head back toward the bedchamber, where I could clothe myself in privacy. Kadar followed, and I paused at the doorway and inquired in acid tones, “Do you intend to watch me dress, my lord?”

  “Not at all,” he replied. “Only that, as the latch on this door seems to be somewhat unreliable, I felt I should stand guard here so that none of my servants might walk in on you by chance.”

  A very transparent ploy, but one I didn’t feel inclined to protest. Without another word I went into the bedchamber and shut the door firmly behind me. As it closed, I heard Kadar let out a low chuckle.

  How wonderful that I should be such a source of amusement to him. I scowled, but at the moment there was very little I could do save pull the gown over the clean chemise I had donned earlier. At least the borrowed dress had side lacings, and so I was able to fasten it myself. Perhaps a spell existed that allowed one to back-lace a gown without help, though I had never heard of such a thing. But I would have invented one on the spot rather than ask Kadar to assist me with the procedure.

  Luckily, such lengths were not required. It only took a few minutes for me to be more or less properly attired, although I would have given quite a lot for a pair of stockings and some sturdy shoes. I guessed that my captor would be unlikely to grant such a request; no doubt footwear and escape attempts were already connected in his mind.

  I had no hairbrush and no mirror, but I ran my fingers through my tangled curls and tried to sort out the unruly mess as best I could. If I’d had even a leather thong I would have braided my hair back to save it from further depredations on our journey, but I had a feeling that Kadar would not trust me with such a thing. Most likely he would suspect me of trying to use it on him as a garrote.

  He gave me a mocking little smile when I re-emerged. “You are speedy. I appreciate that in a woman. The horses are ready — come with me.”

  As no other options presented themselves, I did as he bade me and followed him out of the lodge and into the freezing night. At once I wondered if he expected me to ride without the protection of a cloak, but it seemed he had thought of that as well. He approached a tall horse that was only a greyish blur in the dismal pre-dawn dark and pulled something from a saddlebag.

  “You may have need of this,” he said, and draped a heavy fur-lined mantle across my shoulders.

  I said nothing, but only shrugged the garment into a more comfortable position so that its fur collar rode closely against my neck. It did feel good. I could almost ignore the icy ground beneath my bare feet.

  Lamakh moved toward me, even as Kadar swung into the saddle of his dapple-grey. Only one other horse waited out in the cold, a dark shape that might be a bay in daylight. Was Lamakh not coming with us?

  I understood why there were only two horses soon enough; the manservant took me firmly by the waist and planted me on the saddle in front of his master. At once Kadar’s arms tightened around me.

  “What on earth are you doing?” I demanded, and began to wriggle in his grasp so that I might free myself and drop safely down to the ground.

  But those encircling limbs might have been made of iron for all the good my struggles did me. “You did not think, my Lady Lark, that I would allow you your own mount? Not when you’ve already proven that you are likely to flee at the earliest opportunity?”

&n
bsp; He must be mad. “I can’t possibly ride hundreds of miles like this!”

  “It is not as far as you might think. You may wish to refresh your knowledge of geography, once we are in my capital.”

  How he knew that impugning my education was the thing that would infuriate me the most, I had no idea. In stony silence I ceased my writhing, and his grasp eased somewhat. He said a brief word in the corraghar tongue to Lamakh, and we set out at a brisk trot.

  Even with my sturdy gown and the fur-lined mantle, the air felt as chilly as a grave. Or perhaps shock and exhaustion had finally caught up with me. Back in the lodge my situation had felt almost unreal, or at least something I might have the power to change, but now…

  …now every mile brought me closer to Tarenmar, the capital city of North Eredor, and to Kadar’s stronghold. The little magic I had learned could not help me here, for I knew no spells that would allow me to strike at my captor. I had learned meditation and protection, not the great magics that had sundered Eredor north from south and which had led users of magic to be hunted almost to extinction. My gifts, which once had been a source of some pride to me, now seemed as nothing. I would have been better served to have my brother Thani show me a few tricks with a dagger.

  Would Kadar at least show me the courtesy of a real wedding ceremony, or would he be content with a few quick words spoken in front of witnesses, followed by a bedding as soon as possible so he could lay claim to me forever?

  At that thought tears began to sting at the back of my eyes. Or perhaps it was the wind. In any case, I blinked angrily and tried not to think of such things. But it was very difficult not to, with Kadar’s arms holding me in place, and my legs bumping against his with every movement of the horse. This was far more intimate contact than I had yet had with a man. It didn’t take much effort to go beyond those rough, almost impersonal touches to the even more intimate connection a husband and a wife would share.