The Darkling Hills

by Lori Martin

  They joined now together, royal couple undivided, and rose against Theimon. Against them none could stand, for they are the masters of the heavens. And Rena threw down her arms, and Ditta, and Heila of the harvest and Ferra of the fields, and all their hosts, for they were defeated. Now Theimon who is Envy stood alone.

  And Nialia said to him, “Once before were you cast out, Theimon of Envy, to wander alone among our halls. But now it is your punishment, and your fate, to go beyond our heavens over the unending Sea. For you are exiled from us, and the people of the earth will not praise your name, and there will be no place for you at the table of the gods. No satisfaction shall you have, no peace shall be in your heart. Your wife and child will know you not. Go now, and do not return.”

  Thus was Theimon driven out from them, to wander over the unending Sea. At night the wind blows in from the water, and then will the people hear sighs, and a far-off voice of sorrow. It is Theimon weeping, for he has lost his home.

  CHAPTER 13

  “I told you to bring up some bread,” Adrell said angrily to the two girls. “The relas is waiting.”

  Phenna, who privately thought Adrell too taken with her own importance as the relas’s chief girl, said, “The kitchens have barely gotten the loaves into the ovens. It’s too early.”

  “They usually only look for broth in the mornings,” offered the third girl, Telph. She was kitchen help, come up to see the problem, and not under Adrell’s bidding. “Yesterday’s extra goes to the gardeners and the stable-boys, and the new loaves are hot for the high-sun meal.”

  “This is the third day in a row,” Adrell said. “Can’t you start thinking ahead down there?”

  “And how were we supposed to know?” Telph demanded. “Why’s the relas developed such a sudden taste for bread food, when it’s barely past daybreak, anyway?”

  “She’s been sick – ” Phenna began, but Adrell cut her short.

  “The relas has not been feeling well,” she said, her mouth set in primness. “But you needn’t concern yourself with it. Your concern is to see that she gets what she wants. I hope you don’t mean to tell me that the royal heir can’t get a hunk of bread from the palace kitchens?”

  “Oh, all right.” Telph was defeated. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “And be quick about it!” Adrell shouted down the stairs after her. With her status preserved before the lower servant she could relax a little with Phenna. “It’s harder and harder here all the time. I never know where she’s going to be or when she’s going to want her robes or her baths or her meals. I can’t be waiting on her sunup, sundown, and in between.”

  “I’ve been answering her night calls,” Phenna said with a sniff.

  “Well, I’ll be having enough of it if she isn’t careful. With that Lilli woman there too, ordering me about. I don’t care if she is noble-born, I always said the relas shouldn’t let her talk the way she does. Palace position or not, I’ll go home to the Second and help my mother, if she isn’t careful.”

  Phenna sniffed again.

  “Adrell!” Dalleena called from the inner room.

  “Yes, relas, right away!” Both girls ran in.

  Dalleena was still in the bed, the basin on the floor beside her. She kicked at the thin bedclothes, and Phenna folded them down to the bottom of the bed. The morning sun already felt warm on her bare feet; spring was subsiding into the beginning of summer. She woke up sick to her stomach every morning.

  “Where is it?”

  “It’s coming, relas. They’re a little slow in the kitchens. Would you like some broth?”

  Dalleena shuddered. “No, I couldn’t.”

  They hovered over her, indecisive.

  “It’s all right, you can go, but be where I can call you. Have you broken fast yourselves?”

  “No, relas.”

  “All right, go ahead. Phenna first. Take that broth yourself, Adrell, while you’re waiting.”

  “Thank you, relas.”

  Supplied with a topic to discuss, Phenna flew off to breakfast, where she enlivened the morning for the other servants with a detailed description of the relas’s nausea – an impropriety which would have infuriated Adrell – and an imitation of the hapless kitchen girl, who had broth and sweat on her dress and a whining voice.

  In this way the queen, finally home again, learned an hour later that her daughter wasn’t well. Her oldest servant gave her a sedate version of Phenna’s tale, the younger and shyer girls all nodding in agreement, as they helped the queen to dress.

  Adrell was fluffing the pillows behind Dalleena’s head and was caught off-guard. Her deep court bow was awkward. Ayenna took no notice.

  “Good morn, my dear, what is all this?”

  “Nothing much, Mother. I’m just a little queasy.”

  She put a palm on her daughter’s forehead. “You don’t feel feverish.”

  “I’m fine, really.” To prove it she forced herself to climb out of bed. Adrell had her clothes ready at hand.

  “It’s been the past few mornings, my queen,” the girl ventured to say.

  “Oh? Aren’t you sleeping well, Dalla?”

  “Of course I am.” Dalleena refrained from glaring at her servant. She lifted her arms and let Adrell arrange the Nialian robe and close the catches. Her own fingers had become swollen and clumsy. “I’ve just awakened the past few mornings feeling a little ill, and the last thing I want to face is that broth. After I have a little bread I feel fine. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  “That’s a feeling that brings back memories. That’s how I woke up every morning when I was carrying you.”

  It was an offhand remark and meant nothing; Dalleena reacted too violently. She dropped her arms so quickly that she struck Adrell in the face. She didn’t know it. The skin around her lips went white.

  “Come and sup with us at high-sun,” the queen continued, but she looked puzzled. “The king your father says he’s hardly seen you for days.”

  Raynii was known to prefer his heaviest meal at midday and frequently ate sharp meats or spiced fish dishes at that hour. Dalleena’s stomach turned over at the thought. “All right, Mother. I’ll wait on you then.”

  This too was wrong. Daughter or no, one does not dismiss the queen. Dalleena spluttered, trying to take it back, but Ayenna shook her head.

  Adrell ran to open the door for her. She curtsied again, her face still smarting and a bruise beginning under one eye. Her sense of dignity was also hurt. And the relas hadn’t even bothered to apologize. I’ll go home to the Second, she thought with resentment. What is the matter with her? Gone at all hours, never leaving word where she is, and then I have to answer for it when they want her. Out of her bed at night too, sometimes – does she think I don’t know?

  The thought stuck. Adrell looked at her mistress, who was staring out the window. Her eyes narrowed. Was that it, then?

  The queen’s quick wits were also busy. A little morning illness was hardly a reason to think – but her face when I said – well, but why would she hide it? Raynii will be angry, of course. A passion-child is fine for a farmer, one more working hand. Commoners and nobles alike expand their families that way. But not royals. It confuses the succession, though Nialia knows the law’s clear enough. “We’re not private citizens!” But what’s done is done and that’s no reason to hide it. If it is done. And who could it be?

  The arguments had begun after her twentieth birthday. Royal heirs must marry young; you barely let anyone court you. The few who’ve tried – they don’t want me, Father, they want to be king. Yes, that was always the biggest danger.

  Ayenna thought back over the long years and conjured up the memories of her own courtship. It had been a love match, pure and simple, and if she had not loved him she would never have dared to try. She saw again her father spreading the long and heavy scroll out on the table, the careful tracing of the family, and the queen, Raynii’s mother, bending over it. The queen had been in Chair that year. The bloodline was stead
y; there had been no objections. But the look in the queen’s eyes as she stared at Ayenna. Again and again, sitting through state ceremonies, at religious rituals, at banquets and private meals, always watching her, asking themselves if she would be capable. The king had been suspicious. He did not even believe in Raynii, his son; how could he trust this stranger? “But why?” the queen asked and asked again. “Why do you want to be queen?” Too tired, too despairing, in the end she had burst, ridiculously, into tears. “I don’t want to – I’ll never be able – I’m too stupid, I know I am, but – I only wanted Raynii –” And for the first time the queen had smiled at her. “I think you’ll do,” she said.

  Ayenna paused. A sigh tried to rise up in her, but she trapped it in her chest. It had been a good life, but never easy. This year – oh yes – evil signs, and rumors, and now the quiet. Dalleena had been so withdrawn. One child only, and I never had the time for her. Her seeings. Still, we love each other; it isn’t always so in royal families. Raynii’s father – and the war. The Mendale war that convinced Raynii to build his reign on peace. That had been the hardest, to turn the minds of the people from blood and vengeance; it was a battle they still fought every day, every time a tradesman shouted, “Heretic!” in a market, every time a councilor asked, “But what are we gaining?” Every time Sillus smiled through a puff of smoke. But we won, we’re still winning it. No, it was never easy. I’m just getting older, and tired. Dalleena, what are you hiding from me?

  Inspiration struck her then, and Ayenna called for a messenger. “Greetings to the high priestess, and the queen asks her attendance at the high-sun meal.” The boy started up the First Hill.

  “From the gods to the earth and sea, came the blessings here before us,” the king said rapidly, and the serving boy heaped the food into his plate. “Finish the first serving, Seili, and then you and the others can go. Good day to you, mother priestess. I hope you are well?”

  “Yes, thank you, Sire,” Inama rasped. In the absence of the servants Dalleena leaned over to pour the wine for her. Ayenna had noted her daughter’s surprise; the high priestess was usually entertained in more ceremony than this, a quiet family meal. “But my time will be coming soon.”

  “Indeed not. Not for many years yet, if the gods are kind to us.”

  “Thank you, my king, but it will be soon. Perhaps this year.”

  Dalleena kept her head down. Don’t look at her. And in the name of Proseras don’t touch her.

  “I must look to a successor.”

  Well, that was easy, Ayenna thought. “All of us in high positions have that problem, mother priestess.”

  The old woman took a drink from her goblet, and turned her sharp eyes on the queen. “The gods have given you your successor, my queen.”

  “Thank Nialia for that,” Raynii said. “We waited for her long enough.”

  “But she is only half,” Ayenna insisted. “We’ll have to find a king.”

  “And quite a time we’ll give you too, Dalla, see if we don’t. What my own parents put us through –”

  “Someone fit to sire another royal heir,” Ayenna continued, forcing the subject back and preventing his own reminiscences. Raynii glanced at his wife.

  Dalleena pushed a heavy piece of meat into her mouth and swallowed.

  “Of course she might have a passion-child first,” Ayenna said.

  Dalleena’s stomach revolted. She coughed, hacking, and started to retch. She spat the meat out into a napkin. “I’m sorry –”

  “Are you all right?” her father asked. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing,” she gasped. “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not,” Ayenna said.

  Dalleena froze, the napkin still pressed to her mouth. She looked at her mother. Then her look turned slowly to the priestess. Inama’s eyes met hers, full of knowledge.

  “Oh, Inama,” she whispered.

  “What’s the matter?” Raynii repeated, impatient.

  “She is with child,” the priestess said. Her voice was calm. Dalleena’s mind was in as much turmoil as her stomach. Oh, Rendell – I gave it away, I wasn’t careful. A little longer. I thought we would have just a little longer together –

  “Aren’t you?”

  She coughed again and lowered the napkin.

  “Are you?” Ayenna demanded.

  “Yes, Mother.” They could not have said which woman she was answering.

  “What?” the king shouted. His wine-goblet tipped over.

  “It will be in midwinter.”

  “Midwin –”

  A tap came at the door; Seili peered in. “Do you need me, Sire?”

  “No, I do not!” Raynii bellowed. The wine was running down the table. “Get out!”

  The door slammed shut quickly. Dalleena mopped ineffectually at the crimson liquid. It ran onto her sleeve, turning the yellow the color of blood.

  “What I can’t understand is why you’re trying to hide it –”

  “By all the gods, Dalla!”

  “Raynii, there’s no reason to shout,” his wife said.

  “But how can she be – she’s never let anyone court her – by Armas, we’ve tried hard enough to impress on her that she should get married, but she wouldn’t hear of it!”

  “Raynii –”

  “Now suddenly – really, my dear.” He was becoming calmer. He took a deep breath. “Dalleena, you’re always full of surprises, but this is the – it is true? You’re sure? All right. A royal passion-child, you know my feelings on that. It’s just plain bad politics –”

  “I’m sorry you’re disappointed with me, Father.”

  “Well, it’s not that. Of course, if you want to marry him we’ll have to – marry him, I’m saying, and I don’t even know who we’re talking about!” He paused. “Well, who’s the father?”

  Dalleena stared down at her plate. I feel so sick, she thought.

  “Dalleena?”

  She said to the crockery, “The father isn’t important. There’s no question of marriage at all. I’d rather not bring him into it.”

  Silence.

  If only I didn’t feel so sick, her thought repeated.

  “Dalleena.” Ayenna said the name again with care, as if to remind herself. “If you were in love and wanted to marry, he’d have to prove all the things I once had to prove. His personal abilities and talents, his beliefs, his very heart – but if that’s not the case, then, no, he’s not that important. What is important is his family and the bloodline, for the sake of the child. I can see you’re embarrassed about this for some reason, but you know you have to tell us who the father is.”

  Silence.

  Temper came back into Raynii’s face. “Do you seriously think the relas, our daughter, the royal heir, can have a child and raise it as her own, and no one is going to ask this?”

  “He’s not important,” Dalleena repeated.

  “He’ll be important to the people!” Now they all heard the change, father to king. “You have duties and responsibilities, and in the name of Nialia I shouldn’t have to remind you of them!”

  “Raynii, remember who is with us,” the queen said, though she felt ridiculous. She turned a look of appeal on the priestess. Inama remained silent, watching Dalleena.

  It is not often, in the life of a royal, that one’s will is thwarted. No mortal escapes it completely, with a mistake made here, the wrong action there; sometimes even the gods rage. But for the king it always brought anger. For his daughter, it brought defiance.

  “I know my obligations,” she hissed. “And you’ll just have to trust my judgment –”

  “Your judgment! Your judgment! By all the immortals!” The king was thundering. “Did you love a kitchen boy? A peasant? A heretic from Mendale? Who is the father?”

  “I –”

  “Answer my question!”

  “Father –”

  “You will answer my question or you will remove yourself from my sight!” His breath cracked in and out of his beard
.

  For the third time there was silence.

  Dalleena whispered, “Yes, Sire.” Quickly she slid from the chair. The door banged behind her.

  “Mother priestess,” Ayenna said. Her eyes had filled with tears, but she did not know it.

  “I will offer prayers.”

  The King pushed away his plate.

  “I’ve lost my appetite,” he said.

  Adrell’s sense of importance and her wounded feelings had been sufficient for her to confide her speculation to Phenna. By the end of the day Phenna had spread it throughout the palace. This one line of story ran into a second tale of a royal quarrel and fused together. Normal gossip redoubled. A passion-child – well, why not? At least she’s fertile. When she gets around to marrying we won’t have to wait almost nine years for an heir, as we did with the parents. But it’s dangerous – passion-children can get it in their heads that they’re entitled to the Chair. They say the king’s angry; that must be why. Who’s been courting her?

  But even Phenna couldn’t answer that. It was disappointing. The relas had been so sly no one could even manage a guess. Well, she’d always wanted privacy, hadn’t she? Have to wait until it’s born. They always announce it then.

  So it went, the news spreading rapidly into an ever-widening circle, beyond Marlos-An and out into the Hills.

  One new member of palace life did not join in the gossip. Temhas son of Boessus and of Meyna spent long hours in the courtyard dropping relasii petals into the fountain. He had spent much of his life alone and thinking; it was nothing new to him. The only difference was that for the first time he was thinking more about those around him than about himself.