Fire of the Soul

by Speer, Flora

  “That’s more what a lady likes to hear. Calia, I leave Garit in your care, knowing he will soon bore you into fleeing below.”

  Durand bent his head to speak softly to Lady Elgida and the two of them began a slow progress from mid-ship to the bow of The Kantian Queen, and then back toward the stern.

  “He is certain to ask her prying questions,” Calia said to Garit. “I do believe your friend Durand is a spy for King Henryk, though when I said so, he wouldn’t admit it to me.”

  “Never say you asked him directly?” Garit exclaimed.

  “Of course I did.”

  Garit stared at her in stupefaction, wondering how she had guessed the truth, until she smiled.

  “He was much too interested in my life,” she explained.

  “Why?” Garit watched her mouth twist into an expression of distaste at the question. He thought with relief that no reason existed for him to be jealous of Durand.

  “Why, indeed?” Calia responded with a shrug. “I can imagine nothing at all that he’d find interesting about me.”

  “There I disagree,” Garit said softly. He took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow. “I find you very interesting.”

  She went tense. Garit could feel the sudden pressure of her fingers on his arm.

  “Interesting in what way?” she asked.

  “Calia.” He looked down at her, seeing fear in her eyes. “What, exactly, did Durand say to you?”

  “Very little. Only a few questions and a few leading remarks.” She looked away, turning her gaze to the choppy sea. “I turned the conversation to his sister and her life in Kantia. All I revealed is that Lady Elgida distrusts the Kantians. But anyone who spends even a single hour in her company will know as much. It’s possible that Durand was only testing me on the chance that I’d say something useful.”

  “Asking prying questions may simply be a habit with him,” Garit said. “Since you’ve never been to Kantia and you don’t share my grandmother’s dislike of all Kantians, you cannot provide any information, whatever he was seeking.”

  “No. Of course not.”

  But her fingers renewed their hard grip on his arm. Garit put his hand over hers.

  “If you feel the need of protection against Durand, I will provide it,” he said.

  “Oh, Garit.” When she looked at him, her eyes were swimming with tears.

  “My dear, what’s wrong?” he whispered.

  “I’m only being foolish. I have no reason to be afraid.”

  “Certainly not.” He drew her a little closer to his side and she came readily enough. But he could see and feel that she was afraid, despite her brave words. What in the name of the heavenly blue sky had Durand said to her? Had he threatened her? And if so, with what?

  Garit decided he’d have to speak with his fellow agent. Then the thought occurred to him that the best way to keep Calia safe, whether from the unwanted advances of another man or from some unspecified danger, was to make it plain that she belonged to him. He’d start by making that fact clear to Calia herself, and he’d do so before they landed in Kantia, for once they were ashore his mission would begin and he’d have little time to devote to wooing her.

  During the evening meal Captain Pyrsig informed his passengers that the windy storm had blown The Kantian Queen far north and east of the route he had originally intended to sail.

  “But there’s naught to fear,” he added. “Sooner or later, we’ll strike land again.”

  “‘Sooner or later?’“ Lady Elgida repeated with undisguised scorn. “I do not consider that claim especially heartening. Don’t Matarami pirates haunt the northern sea? Garit, this is your fault. You assured me that Captain Pyrsig is a skilled seaman.”

  “That I am,” the captain declared before Garit could respond. “I’ve sailed these waters for more than twenty years. I can deal with Matarami pirates. I won The Kantian Queen in a battle fifteen years ago and I don’t intend to lose her, not for any reason. All I was tryin’ to say in my rough fashion is that, thanks to the strong winds during the storm, we are just a wee bit off course. I’ll know approximately where we are as soon as I can see the stars. I was tryin’ to warn ye that the voyage may take longer than ye expected, but ye needn’t worry, not even if we have to land somewhere in Mataram.”

  “I suppose I will have to trust that you know what you are talking about,” Lady Elgida said. “Just remember, captain, you are being paid to put us safely ashore on the beach at Kinath. Come along, Calia. Find that lazy Mairne and let us retire.”

  After seeing Lady Elgida tucked into her bunk, and with the recovering Mairne asleep in her upper berth, Calia returned to the deck.

  These were the longest days of the year and this far north the evening twilight lasted until almost midnight. With the storm winds slackening to a stiff breeze, the sea had begun to calm. The clouds had thinned into pale streamers that were touched with red and gold as the sun sank close to the horizon. In the east, where the sky was a clear, dark blue, a single bright star glimmered. A slight warming in the breeze and the earthy smell of it made Calia look to the west, straining to find land in the brilliant glow cast upon the water by the setting sun.

  “The nearest land lies in the opposite direction from where you are looking,” Garit said, coming to her. “It’s too far away to make out unless you climb the mast to look. Never mind my grandmother’s complaints. We are not lost.”

  “I didn’t think we were,” she said. Garit stood so close to her that she could feel his warmth. She turned to him and found him looking at her with an intense, expectant expression on his handsome face.

  “Walk with me,” he said, and took her hand as if the possibility that she’d refuse hadn’t occurred to him. With a gentle tug he led her toward the bow of the ship.

  A few sailors were on deck, working with the ropes at chores that Calia didn’t understand. A group of Garit’s men-at-arms were sprawled atop the hatch, playing at dice where she and Durand had sat earlier that day. Sailors and men-at-arms alike were all engrossed in what they were doing. No one paid any attention to the man and woman who walked slowly, hand-in-hand, beside the rail.

  When they were as far forward as they could go, Garit halted and turned his back to the oncoming breeze, sheltering Calia from it. She looked up at him, expecting him to say something. She did not expect him to kiss her.

  He caught her face between his palms, then bent his head and gently touched his lips to hers.

  “Garit?” She pulled away just far enough to whisper his name before his arms went around her and his mouth came down again, not gently this time. She shook with the strangeness of that unfamiliar caress, with the heat and intimacy of it. Her initial resistance lasted for only a heartbeat or two, before she leaned into him and kissed him back.

  “Calia.” Garit’s voice was low, his face taut in the dimming twilight. “You cannot doubt that I want you.”

  “No.” She pushed against his shoulders, knowing she dared not remain in his close embrace. “Let me go.”

  “Hush.” He brushed tears off her face before kissing the soft, damp curve of her cheek. “Listen to me, my dear. We will be together. We will have each other. At first I had planned to wait until we return to Saumar. Now I doubt if I can restrain myself so long. Whether we wait or not, you are mine. Do you understand me? Never let any other man hold you as I have done, or touch you so intimately.”

  “Of course not.” To her own ears she sounded befuddled by desire. The condition lasted for only a few moments before she came to her rightful senses and shoved at him again. “This is about Lord Durand, isn’t it? You think he wants me in the same way that you say you do. I can tell you, Garit, it’s not so.”

  “I can tell you that it is so,” he said. “Any man with half his wits intact would want you, and would take you if he could. Some men will do so without offering an honorable proposal, either before, or immediately thereafter.”

  “If you think that, then you lack even h
alf of a man’s rightful wits, which is no great amount of wits to begin with,” she told him. She moved back another two paces, well out of the warm and inviting circle of his arms. After she took a few deep breaths of sea air, and after the insistent pounding of her blood had subsided a little, she was able to think more clearly.

  “I do want you,” Garit said. “I want you with me permanently, and I intend to take the necessary steps to make that arrangement happen as soon as possible. I will begin by speaking to my grandmother.”

  “Why?” she demanded, and added a bitter laugh to the question. “If you truly mean to offer an honest proposal, then I must tell you that I cannot accept. If your plan is merely to lie with me, then why bother to ask Lady Elgida’s permission?”

  “What do you mean, you cannot accept?” he demanded.

  “I’d explain if I could. When you speak with your grandmother, insist that she release me from the silence she has imposed on me.”

  “What silence?”

  “Oh, Garit.” She touched his cheek, stroking along the rough stubble in a wistful, final caress. Then she moved two more steps away from him. “We met such a short time ago, yet you are so important, so dear to me.” She regretted the impulsive confession as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

  “Then I see no problem,” he said. “You know about my past, about the tragedy of three years ago. But what’s past is over, Calia. I swear that from this night onward, you will have my full loyalty.”

  “Don’t say another word,” she cried. “I cannot accept a promise made in ignorance.”

  “If there’s something I need to know, then tell me and I will understand,” he said.

  “I cannot tell you.” She choked on a sob.

  “Because Lady Elgida has sworn you to silence?”

  “I took no oath. She ordered me not to speak and I am bound to obey her. You must ask her.”

  “This is ridiculous!”

  “I agree. I will tell you this much, Garit. Very soon you are going to loathe the sight of me and you’ll be glad that I refused you. Now I bid you good night.”

  She fled across the deck, past the gambling men-at-arms with their dice, past Captain Pyrsig and Lord Durand. Through the hatchway she went, down the ladder to the narrow corridor from which the cabins opened. There she paused to collect her thoughts, to dry her eyes and try to breathe normally again.

  Finally, she crept into her cabin, pulled off her cloak, and lay down fully clothed on her narrow bunk. She could not sleep. She lay there for hours, knowing she had refused the one chance she’d ever have to experience a night of passion with the man she loved. She knew she’d regret that refusal for the rest of her life.

  Yet every bit of common sense she possessed told her she had done the right thing. Garit would be grateful in the end.

  When Durand came to stand at the rail next to him, Garit spared him only a quick, angry glance. His mind was still filled with thoughts of Calia after their brief interlude. He’d been relieved to learn that she held no especially warm emotions toward Durand.

  “I suppose this is as private as we can be while aboard so small a ship,” Durand said, keeping his voice low.

  Something in his voice told Garit that Durand wasn’t thinking about Calia, or about any woman. Garit remained as he was, keeping his hands on the rail while he continued to gaze out to sea. And he made sure that his voice when he spoke matched Durand’s quiet tone.

  “I have a feeling that you learned something important after we parted company the other day in Port Moren. And it’s something you’d prefer not to discuss when my squire is present, or you’d have told me what it is when we three were alone in our cabin last night.”

  “That’s true.” Durand leaned forward, resting his weight on the rail and looking toward the same spot on the horizon that Garit appeared to be watching. “Just before boarding this ship, I received two coded notes, both delivered to me by a messenger I know well. One note was from King Henryk, the other from the Lord Mage Serlion.”

  “Serlion?” Garit had trouble keeping his voice to a level that wouldn’t be overheard by the men working on deck. “I thought he gave us our final instructions before we left Calean City.”

  “Well, you know how the Mages are always interested in anything that occurs in the known world,” Durand responded in so bland a tone that Garit knew the matter was vitally important.

  “I suspect the Mages of also being interested in events that occur in unknown worlds,” Durand added, “such as the worlds beyond the heavenly blue sky and the worlds spoken of in legends.”

  “And this particular event would be...?” Garit paused, waiting.

  “Domini Gundiac has fallen gravely ill,” Durand said. “As you might expect, his nobles are becoming restless in anticipation of his death. No doubt each is planning to make himself the next ruler of the Dominion.”

  “That is disturbing news,” Garit agreed, “but that particular event is taking place in the Dominion, not in Kantia. Anyway, Gundiac is an old man.”

  “Not old enough to sicken suddenly and die,” Durand said. “According to Serlion’s message, Gundiac has good reason to become sick. The Great Emerald of the East has been stolen, and with it went Gundiac’s protection from earthly ills.”

  “Stolen?” Garit stared at his companion. He needed a moment to recover from his astonishment before he offered his protest. “Such a theft ought to be impossible. Gundiac keeps the Emerald on his person at all times, just as every other Domini has done since the days of Gundolam the Great. I’m sure he wears it bound to his upper left arm even when he’s bedding one of his many wives.”

  “And when he’s finished with the wife, or the wives, he’s using of a night, even a powerful ruler must rest,” Durand remarked dryly. “According to Serlion’s message, one of Gundiac’s women took the stone and vanished with it.”

  “Did Serlion hint at where the Emerald and the woman are now?” Garit asked.

  “He and I believe that both are on their way to Kantia.”

  “Kantia?” Garit exclaimed, forgetting to speak softly. The last shreds of his previous erotic excitement dissipated at this news. Calia lingered at the back of his mind; she’d never been completely out of his mind since first he’d seen her in the fields at Saumar. But now the image of another woman filled his thoughts, a tall lady with flowing brown tresses that glowed as if with hidden fires, and blue eyes capable of piercing a man’s soul. He’d met her just once, the last time he’d attended the Kantian court, when she was there with her husband, Prince Dyfrig, who was brother and heir to King Audemer.

  “I see by your expression,” Durand said, “that you have guessed the reason behind Serlion’s conclusions and mine, and the reason why he sent us that message.”

  “Queen Laisren?” Garit whispered the name.

  “Laisren is the daughter of the Great Mage of Chandelar,” Durand said. “The Emerald came originally from the ancient village of Tannaris, which is now the capital city of Chandelar. But you know all of that.”

  “What does Serlion expect us to do?” Garit asked.

  “As a Mage, of course he’d give his soul to see the Emerald returned to Chandelar. Every Mage believes that is where it rightfully belongs. You know the old legend. When the Emerald is home once more, peace will come to the known world.

  “King Henryk, on the other hand, would like to preserve the current balance, Sapaudia against the Dominion, both countries equally strong and thus each unable to attack the other for fear of annihilation. The kings of Sapaudia have always derived a great deal of their strength from that threat of war with the Dominion. They have used the threat to keep their nobles under control. The nobles need the royal armies to protect their castles and lands in case of invasion. It’s a precarious balance, but it has worked for several centuries. Now that Henryk has twin sons for heirs, he naturally doesn’t want the situation to change.”

  “You’ve told me much that I already knew or guessed,” Garit
said. “You haven’t revealed what you and I are expected to do.”

  “Whatever happens at Kinath,” Durand said, “you and I must continue on to the royal court at Kerun and there try to learn where the Emerald is. If your little brothers are at court, so much the better. You’ll have an unexceptional excuse for visiting Kerun to see them.”

  “That will mean taking my grandmother with us,” Garit said.

  “Yes, and the rest of her party as well.”

  “I won’t put Lady Elgida into danger,” Garit declared, thinking of Calia, too.

  “From what I’ve seen of Lady Elgida, she’ll relish whatever happens,” Durand said. He made a motion with both hands, as if to ward off any problems. “There’s more, Garit.”

  “Of course there is. You haven’t told me yet what King Henryk had to say in the second message you received.”

  “Actually, it’s new information about Kinath that you may find helpful, though I’ve been wrestling with whether to tell you or not.”

  “Why bother?” Garit put all of his newfound suspicions and frustrations into his voice. “My grandmother is keeping secrets from me and she has sworn Calia to silence about them. You see before you a man ignorant of important family matters. Why not keep me ignorant of other matters, too?”

  “Because you need to know this fact.” Durand lounged against the rail. “What I am going to tell you must go no further than the two of us. It’s one of several reasons why I am traveling to the Kantian court.”

  “For the same reason I am going to Kantia; because both King Henryk and the Lord Mage Serlion have given us an assignment to carry out there. And also to visit your sister, or so you said.”

  “Ilona is the excuse I’m using, though I’ll be happy to see her again.”

  Garit took a good look at the man standing beside him. He knew something of Durand’s life; as a foreign emissary to the court of King Henryk, it had been Garit’s business to gather such information and to use it to his own king’s advantage if he could.