The Sworn fkc-1

by Gail Z. Martin

  With that, Donelan was gone, striding from the room without a backward glance. Allestyr followed, and Rhistiart paused just before he left the room. “I took the liberty of having the servants tidy up Cam’s room to suit a lady’s sensibilities,” he said.

  Rhosyn grinned, and punched Cam jokingly on the arm. “What ladies have you been having up to your room?”

  Rhistiart glanced from Rhosyn to Cam, not sure whether the misunderstanding was deliberate. “M’lady, I readied his room with you in mind-”

  Cam and Rhosyn both laughed, and Rhistiart relaxed, fleeing with a chagrined look on his face.

  “Don’t go getting ideas that I’m going to be one of those fancy court ladies,” Rhosyn teased. “I’m from good, solid, common stock, and not ashamed of it.”

  Cam wrapped his arm around Rhosyn’s waist. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  By eleventh bells, the feast was ready to begin. Cam was impressed by Allestyr’s ability to put such a gathering together on short notice. Then again, Cam realized, it was the night before the Moon Feast, and Allestyr would have had nearly everything ready for the holiday. Cam squeezed Rhosyn’s hand to reassure her as they entered. A cry went up from Wilym and the Veigonn in greeting, which was echoed by the guests, all of whom Cam recognized. He glanced at Rhosyn. Cam knew her well enough to know that the attention unsettled her, but Rhosyn had years of experience with crowds at the tavern. She squared her shoulders and smiled, and although she was nervous, the smile was genuine.

  “A toast to Cam, Lord of Brunnfen, King’s Champion, and his bride Rhosyn!” Wilym made the toast, raising his tankard high. Voices echoed the toast, adding ribald comments and shouting well wishes. One of the servants ran to fill goblets for both Cam and Rhosyn. Out of the corner of his eye, Cam spotted Rhistiart busily helping Allestyr and looking like he’d been managing palace events all his life.

  “To Cam and his lady! Hear, hear!”

  Musicians struck up a lively tune, and Rhosyn began to sway to the music as she sipped her ale. A burly man with wild, red hair shouldered his way through the crowd. He was broad-shouldered and wide-chested, with strong arms and hands broadened by work. Tonight, he wore a jacket of dark green brocade with puffed sleeves and gilt trim, and it took Cam a moment to recognize Elkhart, Rhosyn’s father, since he had never in all his years seen the brewer dressed for court.

  “Cam, Rhosyn, the Lady’s blessings on you!” Elkhart said. He slapped Cam on the back hard enough to slosh the ale in Cam’s tankard. “It’s good to see you up and about, m’lad,” he said with an appraising glance. “Last I’d heard, you looked as if you’d been ridden over by a tinker’s caravan!”

  Cam grinned ruefully. “I would have been in better shape had it only been a tinker’s caravan. But thanks to the king’s battle healer, Trygve, and my sister, Carina, they patched the worst of it up right.”

  Elkhart glanced down at Cam’s feet. “Looks like you kept the leg, thank Chenne for that.”

  Cam nodded. “I understand I put both Trygve’s and Carina’s healing to the test. It’s good to be back.” He slipped his arm around Rhosyn’s shoulders.

  Elkhart looked at Rhosyn, and the burly man teared up. “You’re a beauty to rival any at court in that dress, my dear.” He sniffed back tears as Rhosyn beamed. Elkhart looked up at Cam worriedly. “It’s not true what I hear, that there may be war, is it?”

  Cam shifted uneasily, and Rhosyn looked to him with an expression that mirrored Elkhart’s concern. “There’s a threat from the north coming that we can’t afford to ignore. But I pray to the Lady that nothing comes of it, or that we put it right quickly.”

  Elkhart nodded. “That’s how it goes, isn’t it? Ah, well. Tonight, we celebrate.” He managed a smile, although this time, it did not entirely reach his eyes. “Eat. Drink. Make merry. You deserve this night.” He glanced over his shoulder to where the ale was being poured, and was suddenly all business. “Wouldn’t do to run out of ale at the king’s celebration, would it?” He kissed Rhosyn on the cheek and ambled off through the crowd, already giving orders to the men from the brewery.

  “Moon Feast at Aberponte is one of my favorites,” Cam said, steering Rhosyn through the partygoers to where a groaning board of food awaited. The scent of roasted venison, mutton, and duck filled the room, along with the delicious aroma of onions, leeks, and parsnips. Pies, cobblers, and trifles filled the air with the smell of baked apples, raisins, and rum sauce. Cam sighed. There was much he enjoyed about being the King’s Champion, and the palace food was worth every bit of danger he endured.

  He steered Rhosyn to a balcony. “Look there,” he said, pointing. Bonfires flared in the courtyard, sending flames high into the night sky. Lanterns in the shape of the moon’s phases hung from trees and from cords strung back and forth across the open space. In the center of the courtyard, a large figure of a man made from dried cornstalks and tree branches blazed. The air was sweet with the smell of incense to the Sacred Lady and of ritual herbs rising on the smoke. Festivalgoers carried candle-lit lanterns on poles in the shape of the phases of the moon. The night sky was filled with paper lanterns lifted into the air by a fire within that carried them up to the clouds, and with them, the prayers of the people who released the lantern kites to the heavens.

  “Tomorrow, there’ll be jousting all day. We get to sit in the king’s box to watch. I guarantee we’ll have the best seats!”

  Rhosyn laughed. “And are you one of the jousters?”

  Cam shook his head. “I’m a foot soldier at heart, not cavalry. Wilym will joust as the King’s Favorite. I can fight on horseback, but I much prefer to have the ground under my feet.”

  Along one side, eight women in white robes filed into the courtyard. The crowd parted like water for them.

  “Who are they?” Rhosyn murmured in an awed voice.

  Cam’s eyes widened. “The Oracle and her attendants. This is very unusual. She doesn’t come to the palace. Kings go to her.” He touched Rhosyn’s sleeve. “Let’s go back inside. We’ll know why the Oracle is here soon enough.”

  They had just filled their plates when trumpet fanfare blared from the doorway. King Donelan swept into the room, attended by two members of the Veigonn and half a dozen pages and retainers. He stopped in the center of the room as the crowd quieted.

  “Good Gentles, all,” Donelan boomed. His voice filled the room and his force of personality assured that he had everyone’s full attention. “Tonight we thank the Lady, Mother, Childe, Lover, and especially our patron, the Warrior Chenne, for the harvest to be gathered.” One of his aides pressed a tankard into his right hand and a fresh loaf of bread into his left.

  “We thank Her for the wine and ale that sustain us through the winter, and for the bread that feeds us. And we thank our Lady Chenne for the bounty of the hunters and the victory of the warriors. All praise to the Lady!”

  Cheers erupted from the crowd and tankards rose into the air in salute. Donelan smiled, pleased with the crowd and the evening. But as quickly as the cheers had risen, the room suddenly fell silent as the white-cowled figures appeared in the doorway. Donelan turned slowly, and his eyes widened to see the newcomers.

  “My lady Oracle,” Donelan said, bowing. Everyone in the room also bowed. A few fell to their knees. The faces of the Oracle and her acolytes were hidden beneath their cowls. The Oracle moved to the front as her entourage parted.

  “Donelan, son of Jendran, grandson of Talith, I bear a message from Our Lady Chenne.”

  Donelan took a step forward and spread his hands in a gesture of supplication. “M’lady, we did not anticipate the honor of your presence. I have no gift for you.”

  “The Lady desires no gift save your understanding.” The Oracle’s voice was clear, but if there was a face beneath the cowl, it was lost in shadow.

  “Do you desire a private place to give your message? Is it for all to hear?”

  “This is a true saying, one that touches all of Isencroft,” the Ora
cle replied. “All may hear it.”

  “Speak, m’lady, and I will listen.”

  Even though the Oracle’s face was hidden beneath her cowl, Cam had the feeling that Donelan’s deference pleased her. Cam had heard Donelan express his doubts about the Oracle’s wisdom on more than one occasion. Donelan was a man who preferred action and plain-spokenness. The Oracle’s pronouncements were often vague and open to interpretation, making it difficult to take decisive action.

  “Harsh winds blow from the north. Fire burns the edge of the sea. Old graves spill forth their bones and souls are torn from the Lady’s embrace. Hear us, son of Jendran. Crowns will fall, and scepters pass to untested hands. All that has been will change. A War of Unmaking is now upon us. Even She of the Amber Eyes cannot see its end.”

  Donelan hesitated for a moment, and then did something Cam did not expect. The proud king knelt stiffly and bowed his head. “Oracle of My Lady Chenne, if I have displeased my goddess, then let Her vengeance fall on me and me alone. Do not bring a War of Unmaking on the Winter Kingdoms.”

  The Oracle glided closer to Donelan and laid her hand on his head. Or rather, something under her long, wide sleeve rested on the king’s crown. No part of the body beneath the robe was exposed to view, and Cam shuddered, wondering whether or not the Oracle was even human.

  “You have well pleased My Lady. The fault lies not in you, or in the crowns of Her kingdoms. There is a current, swift and cold, and it bears all away in its depths. As the moon moves through her phases, so our times move from full to dark. I bear the message that darkness rises. But take heart, Donelan, son of Jendran, darkness also passes.”

  With that, the Oracle and her entourage turned and left as swiftly and silently as they had come. Donelan rose, and for a moment, before his studied expression slipped back into place, Cam met Donelan’s eyes and saw something there he had never seen before. Fear.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Serroquette, I need you to bear a message for me.”

  Aidane gathered her cloak around her. It was autumn, and there was a nip in the air. The chill she felt at the moment had little to do with the weather. “I’m not taking clients,” Aidane replied to the ghost that spoke to her from the edge of the forest. Something had drawn Aidane to wander away from their camp, and now she knew that it had been the spirit who called her. But after her last, nearly fatal assignation, Aidane was more than happy to comply with Jolie’s edict that, on the road, none of the girls would take customers, so that the group could travel without incident.

  “Please, hear me out.” The spirit was a fine mist in the darkness, but as Aidane watched, the mist formed itself into the outline of a young woman. Aidane could see the ghost clearly in her mind. The woman was about her own age, just a few summers more than twenty years, and she wore a gown that looked to be several hundred years out of date. Her dress suggested that she had been merchant-born, neither peasant nor royal. Dark hair in curls framed the young woman’s face. But it was the urgency in the woman’s eyes that made Aidane listen.

  Aidane sighed. “I’ll hear you. But I’m not allowed to take clients now, even if I wanted to, which I don’t.”

  “I want you to take a message to Kolin.”

  Aidane’s eyebrows rose, as did her suspicions. “How do you know Kolin?”

  The ghost stepped closer, and Aidane could see sorrow in the young woman’s eyes. “My name is Elsbet. Two hundred and fifty years ago, Kolin and I were lovers. Haven’t you noticed how sure he is traveling through this area? Every run, he returns here. Up on the hill, you’ll find the ruins of his family’s home. That’s where he’ll shelter the fugitives tonight. I’ve seen him come time and again, but I don’t have the power on my own to contact him. Please, you have to help me.”

  It had been over two weeks since Kolin, Jolie, and the others had left Jolie’s Place. The mortals in the group traveled by daylight, along a route they agreed upon each night. By nightfall, Kolin, Astir, and the vayash moru and vyrkin they had rescued out of Nargi caught up. By now, they were partway across Dhasson, northbound for Dark Haven in Principality. Each night, Kolin, Astir, and Jolie conferred in quiet tones about the next step of the journey. About three days after they had crossed the Nu River, they had met up with a group of four musicians and a peddler, all fleeing Margolan for the relative safety of Dark Haven.

  Aidane glanced back at the group that sat around the fire. The musicians were playing softly. If they were practicing, it sounded good. Aidane suspected that they played to settle their own nerves, rather than to perform for their traveling companions. They were better than the usual tavern players, and Aidane liked their selection of songs. They had been friendly to Aidane without judging, or perhaps even knowing, what she was. The peddler was a solitary fellow. He’d offered to trade any of his wares for the chance to travel with the group, and he’d admitted that a few nights before meeting them he had been waylaid and robbed of his coin.

  Jolie’s girls were clustered together. They never seemed to lack for conversation, and while Cefra had invited Aidane to the circle and Aidane sometimes joined them, tonight she had been restless. Now, she knew why. She turned her attention back to the ghost.

  “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

  Elsbet’s ghost spread her hands, palms up. “I can tell you about Kolin, but without asking him, you’d have no way to verify what I say. Let me tell you my tale, and you can decide.”

  Aidane nodded. “Go on.”

  Elsbet sighed. “Kolin’s family owned the manor on the hill. My father was the most successful merchant in town. By the time I met Kolin, he had been a vayash moru for one hundred years. We met at a dance in the village and fell in love. His family had been highborn, but they had lost much of their money and standing. Kolin stayed to help with the estate. And although I was common-born, his relatives were kind to me.” A shadow crossed her face. “My father was not happy that I was seeing Kolin. He thought it was wrong for us to be together, since I was mortal and Kolin was…”

  “Dead.”

  Elsbet grimaced. “According to Father, yes. I refused to listen. Then Father got the idea to send me away, to make me live with my aunt near Valiquet. I was afraid that I’d never see Kolin again. We made plans to run away and be married.” She raised her eyes to look at Aidane, as if she expected to find judgment in Aidane’s expression. “Such things are legal in Dhasson, even if not everyone approves.”

  “I know.” Aidane watched the ghost carefully. She’d heard the tales of many spirits who sought her services, and early in her vocation, she’d been lied to many times by ghosts who really wanted vengeance. More than once, those falsehoods had nearly gotten Aidane killed, and once, the ghost who possessed her had used Aidane to murder a faithless lover. But now, watching this ghost, Aidane heard nothing false in the story. “Go on.”

  Elsbet’s expression grew sad. “I went home to gather my things. But my father found me, and he was drunk. He was angry that I had defied him, and even angrier that I was sleeping with a vayash moru. He beat me. I don’t think he actually meant to kill me, but he did. I died before Kolin rose for the night. I was dead before he could try to bring me across.”

  Aidane could feel her heart pounding. “What happened?”

  “When I didn’t meet Kolin as we had planned, he came to look for me. I guess he thought my father had locked me in. He found me dead, and my father was just beginning to sober up and realize what he’d done.” Her voice grew soft. “I knew Kolin to be gentle and kind, but that night, I truly understood what it meant to be vayash moru. It was as if he’d lost his mind with grief. He killed my father, and he carried my body up to the crypt on his family’s land. I saw him grieving, but I didn’t have the power to make myself heard to him.” The ghost knelt and reached out to Aidane.

  “Please, m’lady, I beg of you. It’s been over two hundred years since I died. But every time Kolin passes this way, he comes to the crypt. He talks to me as if he knows my spirit r
emains. I know about how he travels to Nargi to free the vayash moru and vyrkin. I know that he serves Lady Riqua in Dark Haven, and that he holds a place of honor among his people. But, m’lady, every time he passes here, he brings gifts to me and places them beside my bones. He blames himself for my death.”

  Aidane realized she was holding her breath. “What do you want from me?”

  “I want you to let me speak through you. I want to touch Kolin and tell him how sorry I am that I couldn’t return to him.” Elsbet’s eyes were wide with sadness. “I want to take my rest in the Lady. My spirit is tired of wandering. But I won’t go away and leave him alone again without saying good-bye. Please, m’lady, I can pay. There’s a mound of jewels and gold that Kolin brought to me over the years. It lies beside my dust. Take it all. Only please, give me one last night with him. I beg of you.”

  “Why should Kolin trust me? I don’t think he even likes me. I got rescued by accident.”

  Elsbet managed a sad smile. “I’ll tell you what you need to say. He’ll believe.”

  Aidane stared back at the group around the fire. Her welcome among Kolin’s lieutenants had been grudging at best. But it had been Kolin who insisted that she be rescued along with the vayash moru and vyrkin , and it had been Kolin who had stood up to Jolie on her behalf. “I offered to pay him for rescuing me, and it made him angry,” she said softly. “If he would accept that I carry your spirit, perhaps I can offer him payment that he would accept.”

  “Thank you, m’lady. Thank you.”

  Aidane wasn’t at all sure that it would go as smoothly as Elsbet supposed. But she nodded. “Kolin will go up to the crypt a few candlemarks before dawn. Meet me here and we’ll… join. Then I’ll let you guide me from there.”

  “As you wish, m’lady. I’ll be waiting.”

  Aidane was deep in thought as she made her way back to camp. “There you are!” Cefra waved her over to a place on the log near the fire. “I thought you might get eaten by wolves. Didn’t anyone tell you it’s not healthy to wander alone at night?”