by Mary Corran
‘You’re cold — come out, into the sun.’ The priest hovered at her arm, ushering her towards the light. She stepped out into the courtyard, blinded by the sudden glare, the sun warm on her skin.
‘The rest-house is this way.’ The priest indicated a square structure to Asher’s right, and she turned to it. ‘If you will follow me.’
The tall man stepped neatly in her way. ‘We will not trouble you, priest,’ he said firmly, taking her arm. ‘I think I would prefer our conversation to go unheard. Given the subject matter.’
The priest paused uncertainly, then his face cleared. Asher saw he was as old as the other robed men she had seen, and wondered if advanced age were a prerequisite for such office. ‘That might be more sensible,’ he agreed, looking quickly about the courtyard. It was as deserted as before, although the same white cat crouched before a tiny circular pool, lapping the water urgently.
‘Thank you for your assistance.’ The man turned to Asher. ‘Will you come with me, mistress?’
She looked into his face, unable to read his intent in voice or expression. Only his eyes, blazing down into her own, suggested any force of emotion. The priest, sensing a new puzzle, took a quick step toward them, but Asher put up a hand to ward him away.
‘Very well.’ Asher permitted her arm to rest lightly on her companion’s as he led the way through the chill of the dark passage and out of the citadel.
Too much had happened in too short a space of time for Asher to make sense of any of it; she would not have been very surprised if the ground had opened at her feet and swallowed her. The power of coincidence was one with which she was familiar, but there was no equal to this, to the here and now of her present.
Was it all like this? All my life? So nothing I did, or will do, means anything at all? So it was all destined, that I should live as I did, as I do, and come here, at this time, and no will of mine would have altered my fate one iota? She felt on fire with a range of emotions; it was as if a succession of events had been set in motion which she had no power to divert or delay.
The wind on the plateau had risen, although it had not been noticeable inside the citadel. Asher let herself be drawn down by her companion away from the open and from prying eyes, into the cover of the trees. Only then did he draw to a halt and swing her round to face him.
‘I thought you were dead.’
His fingers held her arms tightly, and for a short moment Asher believed herself protected, cherished, all the feelings she had thought never to need from anyone ever again. She looked up, trying to smile.
He had not altered greatly; the thick brown hair with its reddish tint waving across his forehead hid a faint retreat. He was heavier, more solidly built, but it was muscle rather than fat, and it suited his build. And the eyes were the same. Asher felt herself flush beneath his scrutiny, for there was nothing in his face which told her whether he was pleased to see her or simply surprised. He shook her lightly, as though he had to touch her to believe she was real.
‘Mallory.’
‘I thought at first I was dreaming; that it was just a chance resemblance. Until I heard your voice.’ His own sharpened. ‘Asher, what are you doing here? Why did you never let me know you were alive?’
It was the me that shook her, a betrayal she thought he had not intended. It had come, as she knew it must. She had tried to run from her past, but the Oracle had brought her back full-circle. Nothing we do can change our lives; it’s all there, all written. Without choice, no hope. She stiffened.
‘No one knew.’
For an instant, she read anger in his eyes. ‘No one?’ he asked softly.
She did not understand him, and shook her head. ‘When I ran away, it was better no one knew where I went. It wasn’t safe.’
Doubt flickered across his familiar face. He pulled off the heavy blue cloak he had flung round his shoulders and laid it on the ground, which was damp in the shelter of the trees, and soft, covered with cushioning pine needles. ‘Sit,’ he ordered, as if she were a dog. ‘And tell me.’ He made the first move, patting the thick material beside him.
She hesitated, but not for long. It was plain there was some deep misunderstanding to be dealt with, but she sat down, pulling her knees up to her chin and hugging them with her arms. ‘What do you want to know?’ she asked after a time.
Mallory stretched out his long legs, leaning back on his hands, studiously avoiding looking at her. He seemed embarrassed, if such a thing were possible for him.
‘Who was the man?’ he asked abruptly; then, as Asher stared, having no idea what he was talking about, he elucidated: ‘I mean, the man you ran away with.’
Chapter Five
The air under the trees felt heavy, the sounds of birdsong far distant, as if the world held its breath as he waited for her to speak. Then Asher’s head snapped back, and for a moment, before he realized his mistake, Mallory thought she was going to laugh. Yet the gesture was at once familiar to him, and despite her altered appearance he knew he would have known her anywhere from that one movement alone.
‘Is that what he told you?’
He caught a flash of irritation in her eyes and found himself confused by the range of emotions the sight of her stirred in him: of pain, and a strong sense of disappointment.
‘He told me you’d run off with another man, yes. I didn’t believe him,’ Mallory said stiffly. ‘Obviously I was wrong.’
She flushed, dark colour staining her pale cheeks. ‘Oh? Are you quite sure of that?’
‘Yes.’ He said it to wound, a small repayment for the betrayal of his friendship. ‘You never bothered to contact me or Callith, what else should I think?’
He saw he had misread her again; she was not embarrassed but angry. ‘And you’d take his word over mine?’
‘Why not?’ His normally calm temper stirred. ‘You left him without a word. You told no one where you were going, and I find you here, six years later, in a city far from home, looking prosperous enough.’ His gaze took in her clothes, her general appearance. He did not like the changes he perceived in her, the dyed hair — unbecoming to her fair colouring — the self-assurance so different from the open-hearted girl he had known. The Asher who was so vivid in his memory was young and pretty, with an innocence of mind which had nothing to do with ignorance; now she was older, thinner, harder in some indefinable fashion, and he regretted the alteration.
‘I see.’ He saw pain flicker in her eyes, and felt a stab of remorse; his welcome had been hardly generous. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you by being alive.’
‘Not in that.’ He was concerned at the bitter note in her voice. ‘Asher, I’m very happy I’ve found you. Callith and I were desperately worried when we learned you’d disappeared.’ He forced a smile. ‘I thought Lewes had killed you.’
She relaxed a little. ‘Did you? I wondered whether you might.’
‘Aren’t you going to tell me what happened?’ He could not understand her silence. ‘If I’ve made a mistake, then I’m sorry, but what am I supposed to believe?’
She turned her head away, and he saw the glint of tears in her eyes. ‘Me, perhaps.’
For a second time his conscience smote him; Callith had told him often enough he was careless of other people’s feelings and overly concerned with his own, an accusation of selfishness he did not care for overmuch. ‘Try me,’ he suggested.
‘It isn’t easy, Mallory,’ she said, making an effort. ‘Although I knew you were here, in Venture, and that it was likely we’d meet again. It must be a shock for you.’
‘Under the circumstances, for you too.’ He smiled. ‘Oramen told me I’d have an interesting morning — our seeress,’ he added, seeing her puzzlement. ‘She forecasts the tides and winds for us, and she has the sight, a little.’
Asher brushed the explanation aside, asking bluntly: ‘Did you grant Lewes the farm?’
‘No, although he petitions for it every year since you left.’ The reminder reduced his level of sympathy. ‘I s
aid he must wait the full eight years to assume your death. You should have sent me word, Ash. You had no right to walk out, and none to keep his inheritance from him.’
‘His inheritance?’ Her eyes blazed. ‘Mine, rather.’
‘His,’ Mallory said firmly. ‘You knew when you married him it would become his one day. That is his right under the law.’
‘And I have none?’
It had not occurred to him before to see the question from her perspective, and it gave him pause. ‘No,’ he admitted. ‘Your children would have an interest but not you, unless Lewes put you aside.’
She shook her head. ‘He would never have done that; not if it meant loss to him.’
‘Then why? Why did you leave him?’
She turned to face him, her expression strained. ‘It’s difficult, Mallory. I will tell you because I must, I know that. Give me your word you won’t tell Lewes where I am?’
‘He could have you brought back, that is his legal right.’
‘But you won’t help him. I’m not a piece of land or a horse. Promise me?’
He could not refuse, although as city councillor he was now responsible for upholding the law. ‘Very well,’ he agreed shortly, wondering what her husband could have done to frighten her so badly; her fear softened his mood.
‘Thank you.’ Relief was evident in her voice. ‘And for not giving in to him for all those years.’
‘Where did you go? Where have you been all this time?’
‘To my mother’s cousin — Varah. Do you remember her? She lived a day’s journey from Venture, and she sent me here, to friends who helped me find work and somewhere to live. I didn’t go away with another man, Mallory. I came here alone, and have lived alone for all six years.’
He had always been able to tell when she was lying, and she spoke the truth now. He relaxed. ‘Then why did you go?’ he asked, for still her flight made no sense to him. ‘Did Lewes mistreat you?’
‘When he felt like it. But that wasn’t the reason I left.’ He saw her hands clench into fists at the memory, and felt an impulse of murderous rage towards the husband who had dared abuse her. Her friendship with his family should have been sufficient protection for her, if common decency was not enough: until he remembered her stiff-necked pride, and knew she would never have complained, not even to Callith.
‘You should have told us.’
She looked suddenly remote, diminishing his self-importance. ‘Why? What could you have done? I was his wife, his property. And you were away, and Callith newly married.’
He could not explain the strong, protective urge that made him angry, but with himself, not her, for having had no power to defend her. ‘Even so,’ he said irritably. ‘You should have come to us.’
‘As I said, that was not the reason I left,’ she continued, disregarding his comment. ‘It was the night Mother and Father died, that night — ’ She broke off, lips still parted, as if the pain of those hours were still vivid in her mind.
‘Then was it that? The shock?’ He softened his voice; to lose both parents the same night was enough to daunt the bravest woman, and she had been only twenty or so at the time, married barely a year. And to a man who gave her no comfort, so it seemed.
‘You still don’t understand!’ She sounded as if he were trying her endurance, and it offended him. She put a hand to her head, as if it ached, then continued more calmly: ‘It’s true, that was a great shock. I went to the farm when they first came down with the fever, but it was very quick. Only a day. Mother died first, then Father. I was with them at the end. I did everything that had to be done, made all the arrangements for the burning. That was bad, yes. But that wasn’t why I ran away. It was something else that happened that night.’
Mallory listened in silence; he would have understood if loneliness and misery had been the cause of her flight, for Lewes was not a man to give sympathy when her loss meant his gain. But that did not explain Asher’s reluctance to give her side of the story, and he wondered what more there could be, what she could be hiding from him.
‘There are things worse than loss.’ She must have seen his confusion, for she went on: ‘I had to go home to him, to Carling’s, once everything was ready. To Lewes. To tell him.’ There was remembered unhappiness in her eyes. ‘I married him because Father wanted me to; because he and Mother were growing old, and wanted to see me settled, with a partner who could help me run the farm. I was young, and silly, and thought he would do as well as another, and he was a hard worker; I even thought we could be happy. He behaved well — before we were married.’
Mallory had a sudden image of her on her wedding day, a memory of himself dancing with her and teasing her about the night to come; Melanna, his wife, and Callith had been there too, for the wedding was lavish by village standards. Asher had looked happy, as a bride should, and beautiful, in a pale blue dress cut low at the neck, and he remembered feeling a stirring of desire for her, and rejecting it angrily. It was her wedding day, and his wife was present. ‘I wish — ’ he began hesitantly, not sure what he wanted to say.
‘It was only afterwards, on our wedding night, that he told me the truth.’ She made the statement without inflexion, but Mallory thought it more revealing than anything else she had said. ‘He wanted to be sure I was under no illusions he loved me, or even liked me; he wanted the land, and I was an only child, so it would all come to me. He had decided to marry me long ago, and wanted me to know he didn’t care how I felt. I was not a person to him, but a possession, a means to gain his ends. I think he hated me at times; as I learned to hate him.’
She was shaking, although she tried to hide it; Mallory saw Lewes had succeeded in hurting her badly. He wished there were some comfort he could offer, but it was too late. ‘Go on,’ he urged. ‘What happened that night?’
‘I walked back to Carling’s in the dark; it was very late, but there were still lights on in the front of the house, so I knew he was there and not asleep; waiting, gloating. I didn’t want to go in.’
‘But you did?’
She nodded, compressing her lips. ‘I had to. I went in through the kitchen and heard voices. I wondered who would have come so late, and at such a time, for the whole village knew about my family. One of the voices was his, but it was the other — ’
‘The other — what?’ They had reached the point she had been trying to hide; Mallory was sure of it, and felt himself tense, expecting some dread revelation.
She was so pale he thought she would faint; with obvious effort, she went on: ‘The accent was strange. That was what puzzled me first, so I waited outside the parlour door, listening. They were talking about Tyrrel — you remember him? He farmed land north of the village. The grey men took him to the camps for speaking out against the new taxes; he was always hot-tempered, always complaining. He had bought a strip of land Lewes wanted, and Lewes was furious.’ Unconsciously, she rubbed a hand along her arm, as though some part of his anger had touched her also. ‘Lewes was a collaborator, Mallory. He was informing against our friends and neighbours, just for money. The man he was talking to was a Kamir; in our own home, Lewes was betraying us. That was what I married.’
She looked so serious, so bitter, that he almost laughed in his relief, and was hard put to convert the sound into a cough. Her story explained the lack of communication, the apparent betrayal of his friendship he had found hardest to forgive. No wonder she had run away if that was what she believed. Yet he found it hard to credit Lewes was a traitor; they had never been friends, but they had been drinking companions often enough.
‘Asher, could you have been mistaken? I mean,’ he went on hurriedly, ‘you had just lost both your parents. It would be natural enough if you’d overheard a few words and assumed the worst.’
She sat so still she might have been carved from stone.
‘Asher?’ He spoke her name twice more, still getting no response. He put a hand on her shoulder, alarmed at the extreme rigidity of her body.
She flung his hand away with a violence that surprised them both; brown eyes blazed into his.
‘I know. I heard them. Don’t tell me what I did or didn’t hear. I was married to Lewes for a year, and I knew him. What do you know about him and his secrets, about the nights he went out after dark and came home with the dawn? What do you know about where he went and what he did and who his friends were?’ She made a violent, dismissive gesture with her right hand. ‘Don’t try to patronize me, or tell me I was in shock. I was there, and I know what I heard!’
He had never seen her like this; she had always been quick-tempered, but the old Asher would never have spoken with such uncontrolled vehemence. ‘Calm down!’ he said sharply. ‘I didn’t say I didn’t believe you. All I said was you might have made a mistake. Remember, I knew Lewes too, if not as well as you, and it’s hard to believe he was a traitor.’
‘Why? Because he could take his ale and display other such manly virtues?’ Mallory had never heard the word spoken so contemptuously. ‘You’re talking to me, Asher! A person. My hearing is as good as yours, my intelligence just as capable of understanding what I hear!’ She breathed fast, and again put a hand to the back of her head. ‘I didn’t run away because Lewes was a bad husband, or because we quarrelled, as you seem to want to think. I ran away because he would have killed me if he’d caught me. He came after me that night, heard me in the passage. I was lucky. I managed to get into the yard and hid among the trees, and before he could set the dogs on me I’d caught the pony and was too far away for him to find me. But don’t say again I might have been mistaken!’
Mallory found he almost believed her; it was not that he doubted her veracity, but rather that she had convinced herself her story was true in order to justify escape from a violent marriage.
‘All right, I accept what you say.’ He saw the fury fade from her eyes. ‘What do you want me to do about it?’
