Fire of the Soul

by Speer, Flora

  “Please, my lady,” Calia said, keeping her voice too low to be heard outside the latched cabin door, “I beg you to end this voyage now.”

  “I cannot believe you are guilty of cowardice,” Lady Elgida said from her seat on the side of her bunk. “Nor can you be seriously worried about what the storm will do to the The Kantian Queen – what a stupid name for a ship! What can Captain Pyrsig have been thinking?

  “Just look out the porthole, Calia, and you’ll see that the storm is already ending. Soon, even Mairne will be able to eat again. Well, girl, don’t stand there swaying and rocking and looking tragic. Give me the reason for this desperate plea of yours, and allow me to refute it.”

  “My reason is one that you’ve heard before and that you ought to reconsider most seriously,” Calia said. “I am not afraid for myself, and I know better than to mention your own safety to you. My concern is for Garit’s safety. You haven’t been honest with him. Please order Captain Pyrsig to turn the ship back to port just as soon as possible.”

  “There’s not a chance of that, and well you know it,” Lady Elgida told her. “I will not change my plans. Well, then, I’m sure you have another thought on the subject.” The old lady’s eyes sparkled with something very like mischief.

  “If you refuse to end the voyage, then you must tell Garit the entire truth,” Calia said. “It’s not fair for you to lead him into danger without preparing him first.”

  “I’ve heard that argument before, too.” Lady Elgida regarded her companion for a time. Then she asked, “Did Garit turn your cheeks so pink?”

  “No! Certainly not.” Without her willing it, Calia’s hands flew up to cover her cheeks. “I was on deck with Mairne and Anders. The wind is sharp. Perhaps that is why—”

  “I am neither blind nor deaf,” Lady Elgida interrupted her.

  “Neither am I,” Calia snapped, worry for Garit and embarrassment combining to make her ruder than she’d ordinarily be. More forthright, too. “My lady, I can hold my tongue no longer.”

  “I haven’t noticed that you’ve held your tongue previously,” Lady Elgida said in sly amusement.

  “I have long respected the way in which you listen to every side of a question before you make up your mind,” Calia went on. “I even admire the way you refuse to change a decision after you’ve made it.”

  “Thank you for that much.” Lady Elgida’s gaze on her did not waver. “What else do you want to say to me?”

  “Only one thing more, and I will continue to repeat it until you change your mind just this one time. Tell Garit the truth. All of it, my lady, including whose daughter I am.”

  “No.” The single word hung in the air between them.

  “You say you love him.” Calia’s voice sank to a strained whisper. “Never say so again, for I will not believe you.”

  “You don’t seem to understand. If you’d only stop worrying about what your supposedly wicked brother may do, perhaps you could discern what the real purpose behind my actions is.”

  “My brother is wicked.”

  “He may well be. Allow me to judge that for myself when we meet. Please recall that I have never met my daughter-in-law, Fenella, either, or her two sons. I have no idea what any of them want or intend.”

  Calia sank onto her bunk. There she sat, regarding Lady Elgida across the narrow space dividing them. She was still upset for Garit’s sake, but she had calmed down enough to recognize what she ought to have seen days ago. Lady Elgida had many reasons for what she was doing.

  “Suppose you explain your ‘real purpose’ in traveling to Kantia,” she said.

  “Well done, my girl.” Lady Elgida nodded her approval. “I knew you’d be sensible in the end. Now, be quiet, stop arguing, and listen to me. Garit has been grieving over his lost love for almost three years. His sister writes to me with some regularity, and she claims that he has lost all interest in the pleasurable pursuits that usually engage a man while he’s at a royal court.

  “At first, I didn’t take Marjorie’s complaints much to heart, because she has always been a frivolous young woman. But she persisted until I finally comprehended how seriously worried she is – and Marjorie is rarely serious. I decided that Garit needed rousing from his prolonged grief. I spent more wakeful nights than I care to admit trying to devise an excuse that would require him to visit Saumar.

  “That is why I was so glad to see him when he appeared on his own, with no prompting from me, and bringing news that made it appear reasonable for me to decide to undertake this voyage at this particular time.”

  “You cannot imagine that having to do battle with Mallory will improve Garit’s spirits,” Calia cried. “My brother cares nothing for any code of honor, my lady. He won’t fight fairly; he’ll do his best to kill your grandson.”

  “You and I will have to think of a way to prevent Mallory from winning the battle,” Lady Elgida said. “Or, better yet, of forestalling physical combat entirely.”

  “I am trying to understand your reasoning.” Calia was close to tears with frustration. “Why won’t you listen to me? When I say Mallory won’t engage in a fair fight, I don’t mean he’ll try some clever trick with a sword during hand-to-hand combat. I mean he’ll resort to hiring someone to slip a dagger between Garit’s ribs when he’s least expecting it. I mean three or four varlets setting on him with blades or cudgels when he’s unarmed, or sleeping. I mean poison that mimics illness and cannot be cured because it was made using the corrupt Power that Mallory inherited from our father. I mean an accident while riding that is no accident, a saddle girth that breaks apart because it’s been sliced half through in a way that cannot be detected unless you know just where to look. Or, far easier to accomplish, a fall from a great height.

  “Best of all from Mallory’s point of view, he may find a way to impugn Garit’s honor, perhaps accuse him of some terrible crime and then watch while innocent Garit is punished for it.” She stopped then, not because she was finished listing Mallory’s vicious cleverness, but because Lady Elgida had gone pale as she listened and her eyes were large and dark at the horrors Calia was describing.

  “Surely,” Lady Elgida whispered, “surely, child, you haven’t witnessed all of that.”

  “Only some of it,” Calia said. “The rest I overheard when the people of Catherstone were whispering among themselves. I wonder if you realize how difficult it is, how nearly impossible, for a young girl whose only male relative is the man who is ordering or committing such crimes, to do anything to stop him? Mallory was seneschal of Catherstone. His word was law, as good there as our father’s word, because Walderon backed him completely.

  “I did try,” she said. “I devised a foolish plan, and with the help of one of the stable boys I gathered certain proof of two deaths and almost-certain proof of a third. I was going to present all of it to the king’s inspector when next he made a routine visit to Catherstone. Then one morning the stable boy was found dead of a broken neck. The head groom claimed that he’d had too much wine and must have fallen from the highest loft in the barn.

  “And when next the king’s inspector appeared, a full month later, he came with King Henryk’s men, demanding that Mallory quit Catherstone by dawn of the next day, taking with him only his horse, his armor, and his illegitimate sister.”

  “Dear heaven.” The words seemed torn from Lady Elgida’s pale lips. “Child, why didn’t you tell me all of this when we spoke before about Mallory?”

  “What could either of us have done about Mallory’s crimes by then?” Calia asked. “I tell you now only because you must understand how dangerous he is.”

  Lady Elgida sat silently for a time, staring down at the hands she had clenched in her lap during Calia’s dreadful story. Then she seemed to recover. A bit of color returned to her face and she lifted her head to look directly at Calia.

  “Answer me this,” Lady Elgida said. “Whether we continue on to Kantia or not, do you think Mallory won’t find a way to harm Garit? Or my other
grandsons, too? If everything you’ve just said is true – and I do not doubt you, Calia – then we must assume that he won’t hesitate to kill again if he fears his position is threatened.”

  “That is so,” Calia admitted reluctantly.

  “I’m glad you agree with me,” Lady Elgida said. “You and I, knowing what we know about Mallory, have a duty to prevent him from causing any harm to Garit, or to Belai and Kinen. And that, my girl, is the best reason of all for us to continue our voyage to Kinath.”

  Chapter 10

  Calia didn’t stay to break her fast with Garit and Lady Elgida. Instead, as soon as Garit appeared bearing the basket of food she excused herself, saying she wanted to make sure that Mairne wasn’t sick again. She snatched a chunk of bread from the loaf that Garit had brought and left the cabin.

  Once on deck she found Mairne sitting close beside Anders in a sheltered spot near the forecastle, with the squire’s arm across her shoulders.

  “Don’t get up,” Calia said when Anders began to scramble to his feet at her approach.

  “I’m feeling better,” Mairne told her. “But not well enough to eat,” she added, looking at the bread in Calia’s hand.

  “I’ll go elsewhere then, so you don’t have to watch me eat,” Calia said. “Anders, Garit is with Lady Elgida. I don’t think he’ll need you for an hour, at least.” She turned from them to walk toward the stern.

  “Come and sit with me,” called a cheerful voice.

  Durand perched upon the large deck hatch that could be opened wide to allow cargo to be loaded into the hold. The wooden frame of the hatch was raised about two feet off the deck. The hatch cover sealed it against rain or high seas and provided a convenient seat. Calia joined the nobleman and offered him a share of her bread.

  “Thank you. I do appreciate a lady who supplies her own provisions.” He accepted the bread and began to chew it.

  “I have the impression that you are an unwilling participant in this voyage,” he said after a moment. “I’ve noticed the look on your face when Lady Elgida speaks of visiting Kinath.”

  “I am at my lady’s command,” Calia said. When Durand looked at her with his raised eyebrows indicating disbelief she added, “I go where I am told. It is my duty.”

  “An interesting lady, your mistress. A most determined lady.” He paused as if expecting Calia to make some comment. When she said nothing, he tried again to lure her into voicing an opinion. “I know Garit from meeting him at the Sapaudian royal court, but I’ve never met Lady Elgida before. Nor you, either, of course,” he ended with a friendly smile.

  Calia recognized the tactic he was using. She’d heard similar remarks from Mallory in the past, when he wanted to learn something he believed she knew but wasn’t telling him. She had even, three or four times, known her late father to make a similar attempt to pry information out of her about Mallory, or what the castle folk were up to. If no direct question was asked of her, she could later be accused of volunteering information.

  As she had done on those previous occasions, she said nothing. She just sat there on the hatch cover, chewing her bread and looking at the sea, until Durand uttered a rueful laugh that told her he understood her reluctance to divulge information to a near stranger.

  “A young woman who is not a gossip,” he said. “Remarkable.”

  “It’s possible you’ve been so long at court, my lord, that you think all women are gossips.” She bit back a smile, almost certain she knew what his next remark would be. As it happened, she was correct and he sounded like her father or her brother.

  “I was only trying to make pleasant conversation,” he said.

  “No, you were prying. I refuse to answer, sir, for I have already guessed that you are a royal spy.” Calia tore off a piece of bread from the chunk she held and popped it into her mouth.

  “Well, well.” Durand regarded her with something like fascination. “A lovely young woman who is intelligent and who knows how to hold her tongue, except when challenging a supposed spy. What makes you think I am one?”

  Calia swallowed the bread. “A clever guess on my part.”

  “More than that, I think.” He held out his hand for another piece of the bread she still held.

  Calia gave him the remainder, but she wasn’t going to offer him more than bread. She would not discuss the source of her guess about his occupation. That source was the men who had occasionally appeared at Catherstone bearing messages to Mallory from his father, men who had watched Mallory and Calia with sharp eyes and who had made use of their time at the castle to investigate the oddest corners and to speak in whispers with the servants and the men-at-arms.

  She hadn’t needed Mallory to tell her what those men were or to warn her against them. They were her father’s people secretly testing Mallory, or else men sent by King Henryk because he was suspicious of Walderon. Calia had noticed the same alert and vigilant look on Durand’s face as he tested her and that was why she had decided that he must be a spy.

  “Tell me, my lord,” she said, eager to change the subject, “how long has it been since you’ve seen your sister? Lady Ilona, you said? I’ll wager she misses you.”

  “D’you think so? I know I miss her.” Durand slanted a quick, searching look in her direction. “Brothers and sisters – do you have either?”

  There it was, Calia realized. There, in that apparently simple, quite ordinary question lay the danger she must avoid. She could not reveal that she had a brother, lest Durand mention the fact to Garit, which would only lead to more questions from him. And Garit’s questions about her family must be met with answers that were lies, unless she was willing to defy Lady Elgida’s order not to tell him about Mallory. How quickly lies, even lies of omission, could become complicated tapestries of falsehood, she thought with a sigh. And how annoying it was to have to weigh every word she spoke.

  Yet even as she considered how to avoid a direct response to Durand the solution came to her. She would inundate him with a flood of partial truths and a storm of questions of her own.

  “Do you mean, have I a relative at court whom you may know?” she asked, and then supplied her own answer. “No, my lord. I was given to a beguinage at an early age. Later, when I proved unsuited to the life there, I was sent to Lady Elgida, to be her companion. I’ve been living at Saumar Manor for years, and since Lady Elgida never attends court, I’ve not been there, either. I don’t know anyone at court.

  “Now, my lord, tell me about your sister. Is she fair like you, or dark? Has she children? What is her opinion of the Kantian court? Lady Elgida claims that in her time it was a cold and barbaric place, but then, she doesn’t think much of the Kantians.”

  “Really? Why not?” Durand asked with a grin that told her he wasn’t fooled by her effort to distract him. He knew exactly what she was doing and he’d find a way to maneuver around her evasions if the information he sought was important enough. “What does Lady Elgida hold against the Kantians?”

  “She says they are untrustworthy. Treacherous. Not at all nice people. But that was twenty-five years ago.”

  “Interesting,” Durand murmured. “What do you suppose happened to make her feel that way?”

  “I have no idea,” Calia said. On those words she shut her mouth firmly, refusing to offer any further information. Only then, after she fell silent, did she feel the quick, delicate touch of Durand’s Power in her mind. She caught her breath, startled. An instant later she relaxed as she realized he meant her no harm and would not intrude on the privacy of her thoughts. Whatever else he was, Durand had just let her know he was a friend whom she could trust.

  Garit assisted his grandmother up the short ladder. She was far more spry than he had expected and she shook off his steadying hand as soon as they reached the open deck.

  “Well, now,” she said, glancing around at the ship and the sea, “this is much more pleasant than my airless cabin. I notice that Mairne is leaning upon that surly squire of yours, but where is Calia?”r />
  Garit looked across the deck, seeking Calia’s smoothly braided, gleaming dark hair. He discovered her just rising from the mid-ships hatch, where she’d apparently been sitting with Durand, who jumped to his feet and offered his hand to steady her. Calia straightened her skirts, brushing at the woolen folds. Then she bestowed a brilliant smile on the handsome lord and he smiled back.

  Jealousy roared through Garit like a bolt of summer lightning. He actually stumbled from the force of it. By the time he found his footing again on the slanting deck, Lady Elgida was staring at him as if he’d lost his wits. He feared she was correct in her assumption. His hands were clenched into fists and his jaw was rigid with his effort at self-control. He wanted to slam his fist into Durand’s mild, pleasant face and then seize Calia and shake her until she understood that she belonged to him and to no one else.

  True, she couldn’t be expected to know that when he hadn’t yet told her so. At the moment she was free to laugh and flirt with any man and he had no right to be angry if she did.

  He reminded himself that he did not love her, that he would never again love any woman. What he felt for Calia was a peculiar combination of respect and desire, but nothing more. Thinking more reasonably, he doubted that she required protection from Durand, not on an open deck surrounded by sailors and with Lady Elgida bearing down on the pair like an ancient Matarami longship preparing for battle.

  “There you are, Calia,” Lady Elgida said. “Do, please, talk to Garit. He is being too tiresome for me to endure his advice for another moment. Good day to you, Lord Durand. Dare I hope that you will offer more entertaining conversation than my grandson? I warn you in advance, I do not wish to hear how careful I ought to be when climbing ladders, or descending them, or when walking about the deck.”

  “My lady, if only you will take my arm to keep me steady, I promise to offer no advice at all while we walk about the deck together,” Durand responded.