by Pati Nagle
“No. It is being done by captives.”
“Ah. I may indeed be able to help, in that case. I can be persuasive.” His voice rose on the last word, making it almost a question as he looked up at her.
“Hm.” She rolled the plan up again. “Take this and study it, go and observe the progress, then return and give me your opinion.”
He accepted the page with lowered gaze. She sensed a flash of something in his khi—anger? Impatience? It was gone at once.
“As you wish, Bright Lady.”
“But first, you are no doubt wishing for a meal and a rest.” She drew a half-page of paper toward her and scrawled on it, then stood and handed it to the guard.
“Take Kelev to the pens and give that to Wahral. You may have what remains of his feeder. Show him to a house near the circle.”
The guard bowed. “Yes, Bright Lady.”
The Steppegard stood, and she regarded him. “The houses are in disarray, but you will not mind that. Choose one you like and set it in order.”
Kelev bowed. “Thank you, Bright Lady.”
She watched him go, wondering how he had managed to escape. She should have questioned him about the ælven in Glenhallow, but there would be time for that. He was unlikely to leave after asking for refuge. There was nowhere else he could go.
Fairhollow
Rephanin gazed out of the window over the town of Fairhollow, infinitely grateful to be indoors. Ehranan had bespoken rooms for him and Filari at one of the public lodges. A bed and a roof seemed extravagant luxuries, and he felt a slight pang for the army who were camped outside the town, but at least they, too, would have comforts they had not known in some days. The town was already preparing a feast for them.
Fairhollow was fairly large, a trading center for local farmers and hunters. Houses built of the blond stone common to the plains climbed up both sides of a shallow valley. A small river ran down its center, the road crossing it on a wide bridge built of darkwood, and smaller footbridges connected the two halves of the town on either side of the road.
Folk here were dark-haired, for the most part; Ælvanen in appearance, which roused Rephanin's memories of his first home. Here and there he saw a head of dark brown hair, sometimes curling, instead of black.
“Your pardon, my lord.”
He turned to find the host of the lodge standing in the open doorway, holding a tray with an ewer and cups. She was one of the brown-haired folk, and her eyes were dark green; a hint of Stonereach blood in her.
“I brought some wine for you and the lady.” She glanced over her shoulder toward Filari's room. “Should I have brought separate trays?”
“No, no. We can share. Thank you kindly.”
She blushed at his smile, and hastened to set the tray on a table near the fire. Rephanin crossed the hall and knocked on Filari's door.
“Filari? Would you care for some wine?”
The door opened and Filari looked out, suspicion in her face. Rephanin gestured toward his room, where the host was building up the fire. Filari gazed at her for a long moment.
“All right.”
The host seemed even more in awe of Filari than of himself. He doubted Ehranan had told her, but she had plainly learned that they were mindspeakers.
Filari carried a chair in from her room and put it before the hearth. Rephanin reached for the ewer but the host was before him; she poured wine for them both, offered to bring food, and finally withdrew after Rephanin told her rather firmly that they had all they needed.
Settling into his chair, he stretched his feet toward the fire and sipped his wine. “This is pleasant.”
Filari said nothing. She was in her most common mood: grim endurance. Poor company; he sought to change it.
Filari, what is it?
She was distant, withheld. For a moment he thought she would not answer, then she spoke so abruptly it startled him.
Do you expect me to spend the night with you?
Defensiveness bristled in her khi. Rephanin took another swallow of wine.
I expect nothing, though you are welcome if you wish to stay.
Filari appeared to relax somewhat. It is what they are all saying. That you have chosen me as a lover.
Camp gossip. Shall I deny it?
They would only believe it the more.
Rephanin chuckled. I fear you are right.
She took a deep swallow of wine. Rephanin wondered if he should not have accepted the host's offer of food.
Filari.
What?
I think you must have been hurt. Do you care to tell me of it?
She stared long at him, breathing sharply, then lowered her gaze. I do not see what that would serve.
It might help me avoid causing you further pain.
She pressed her lips together, then drank more wine. After a moment she put down the cup and closed her eyes.
It was the alben. Kelevon.
Rephanin nodded, though she could not see. He waited, not wishing to press her. She drew a ragged breath and sighed, rubbing at her eyes.
He—took control of me. In mind and in flesh.
Rephanin blinked. What she seemed to be saying was inconceivable.
He used khi to do this?
Yes.
Horror spread through Rephanin’s awareness. This was a violation of the creed at its most basic level. One did not interfere uninvited with another’s khi. To do so was to dishonor that other, and so to dishonor oneself.
Have you told anyone of this?
The healer who tended my hurts, but I think she did not believe me. She blamed me for his escape.
Filari stopped speaking abruptly and buried her face in her hands. Rephanin watched, his horror turning to anger against Kelevon.
You are not to blame.
I am. I knew in the back of my mind that he might deceive me, yet I persisted.
Blame is useless. Let it go.
She sat still, saying nothing. Listening, he thought. Waiting to hear exculpation.
Filari, remember when we talked of going on? That is what you must do now. Let go of the traitor, and know that any blame was his, not yours.
She did not answer. He could see her breathing deeply, steadily, and wondered if she was weeping. His instinct was to offer comfort, but he knew now that he must be very cautious in approaching her in any way. No wonder she bristled so.
If we are to succeed together as partners in mindspeech, we must learn to trust one another. I have sworn never to hurt you, and I stand by that, Filari. Yet if it hurts you to be touched at all, then I do not know how we shall manage.
She raised her head, blinking. Her eyes were dry, though her countenance was strained. She looked at him, and he could see the depth of her fear in her soft, dark eyes.
Poor child. To have been wounded so, and then blamed for it by her people. Pushed away by her family, and shunned by the Guard.
Rephanin reached his hand toward her, laying it on the table between them, palm up. She gazed at his hand for a long while, then slowly moved her own above it, holding it a handspan away, not touching but close enough that the khi from their palms began to blend. It tingled softly in Rephanin’s flesh. He held still, leaving it to her to decide when and how far to go further.
You are very patient.
Rephanin smiled. Sometimes. Not always. I make no promises there.
Her lips curved slightly and her frown eased. She moved her hand a little closer and the tingling in his palm grew stronger.
Your khi is not like his.
She sounded surprised. Turning her head to meet his gaze, she looked thoughtful.
His was ... sharp. No, that does not describe it.
She seemed to be struggling for words. Rephanin watched her frustration.
You could show me.
She looked at him sharply, questioning. Fear leapt in her khi, then subsided.
With mindspeech we can show memories to each other, or even present sights, though that can be confusin
g. May I offer an example? May I share a memory with you? It means deepening our contact.
Filari blinked a few times, then gave a sharp nod. She was breathing rapidly, and he knew this frightened her.
Close your eyes.
She did so, and after a moment seemed to relax a little. She drew a deeper breath and let it out slowly.
Rephanin closed his own eyes and summoned a memory of Hollirued, of the coast near the city where he had often gone to gaze across the endless waters. He filled his mind with it, then opened the sight to Filari.
He heard her draw breath sharply. His own heart leapt with fear lest she react with violence again, for he had opened himself now and was unprotected. She did not, though. She slowly moved into his awareness, taking in the full sensation of the memory.
The sea. I have never seen it.
Rephanin offered her the smell of the water, the calls of the gulls. She embraced them, and he could feel her wonder. She had forgotten to be afraid, and in so doing had moved into a deeper bond. He remained still, open to her exploration, ready to withdraw if she became uncomfortable.
How beautiful. Thank you.
Rephanin smiled, knowing she would feel it. Instead of using words, he sent the thought of welcomeness to her, in all its shades of meaning.
“Oh!”
Suddenly she was gone. Not with the violence of her earlier reaction, but with a swiftness and finality that left Rephanin breathless. He opened his eyes and saw her hugging herself, rocking slightly.
“Too close? Forgive me.”
She looked at him and ceased rocking. She swallowed, sniffed.
“I ought to get used to it. You are right, we have to trust....”
“We have time. No need to hurry.”
“Th-thank you.”
She looked down to where his hand still lay, then laid her own over it. The physical contact brought their khi together. Rephanin returned the clasp lightly, and was unsurprised when she immediately withdrew. She reached for her cup and tossed back the remaining wine.
“More?” He picked up the ewer.
“No.” She glanced sharply at him, then frowned at the cup. “Well, yes.”
“I pledge I will not attempt to seduce you.” Rephanin kept his voice light as he poured.
“It would take more wine than this.”
A jest. The first she had made all day. Rephanin put down the ewer and smiled as he watched her sip the wine. There was hope for their partnership, he thought, though he would have to treat her carefully.
“Would you like to try showing me a memory?”
She gazed at him, blinking. Not of him.
Very well. Make your own choice.
She thought for a moment, sipping her wine, then put down the cup. Rephanin watched her close her eyes, and closed his own when her vision began to intrude on him.
She showed him a river, the Silverwash, he thought, but broader than it was near Glenhallow, flowing lazily through a plain of grass. A stream joined it, and bushes grew along the stream’s bank. These were the focus of the memory. They were heavy with goldenberries, and the smell of the juice came to him, sharp in his nostrils. Berry-picking, he realized, smiling.
Thunder came into the memory, not the thunder of a storm, but the rumbling of many hoof beats. A herd of horses was approaching. Rephanin was surprised to see no riders; they were wild on the plains, golden-coated, white-maned horses like those the Southfæld Guard preferred to ride.
They leaped across the stream, then splashed into the river with riotous noise, crossing it in a few bounds and galloping onward until they disappeared into the plain. The sound of their hooves faded until all that was left was the breeze stirring the grasses.
Rephanin smiled. Lovely.
Filari said nothing, though he sensed that she was pleased. The memory faded, leaving them alone together in silence. Sensing that she needed to be restful in this state, to feel at peace while sharing khi, he remained still, open, calm.
Thank you for the wine.
It was our host's doing, not mine, but of course you are welcome.
And thank you for your patience.
Rephanin smiled softly. Thank you for yours. We shall find a balance.
She nodded, managing a smile. She withdrew with the odd twist of khi that was becoming her signature—a mental bow, a quaint formality. Rephanin thought it might be that she did this to complete the severance of contact, to declare for her own comfort that her solitude was absolute.
She stood and went to the door, carrying her cup with her. To his surprise, she paused and looked back at him.
“I will see you at supper.”
He nodded, smiling, and watched her go into her room. For the first time, he felt they had made true progress.
Dark had fallen and Eliani could no longer delay. She was loathe to leave Ulithan’s cave, and fussed with her saddle packs, lashing and relashing them together so that they rested comfortably on her back. It mattered less than she affected, and at last she shouldered them and stood to take her leave.
Ulithan accompanied them out to the ledge and along it to where they had climbed up. The snow had retreated under a day’s sunshine so that only the deepest drifts remained. The sky was clear and cold, glittering with starlight.
In that light Ulithan reminded her very much of the Lost, with his clothes of skin and fur, his white hair and black eyes. She turned to him and smiled.
“Thank you for your help, and for all you have shared with us.”
He smiled in return. “Thank you for your company. Your music.” He nodded to Vanorin. “I have enjoyed your visit.”
“Keep this knife, with our gratitude.”
She held out a sheathed belt knife, one of several that Dejhonan had sent from Bitterfield for the party’s use just before their departure. It was a commonplace knife, a small tool and useful. Eliani knew that to Ulithan it would be a rare treasure, and she saw his deep appreciation in his eyes as he accepted it with a bow.
“Many thanks.”
“May we come again?”
“You must, for the scrolls. Come to the cave by the little falls on the Varindel. You saw them as you came up, yes?”
Eliani nodded, remembering the cave where they had sheltered Luruthin. She glanced at her cousin, but his face showed only patience and the strain of his hunger. He was silent of late, which she thought an ill sign.
“I will leave the scrolls in that cave, so that you need not climb all this way.”
“Then I shall not see you again?”
Ulithan smiled softly. “Not this season.”
Eliani nodded, accepting his wish to be left alone. Disappointing, but it was his path to choose and she must respect it. She shifted the packs on her shoulders.
“Well, I hope I may visit you again one day.”
“Perhaps you will bring your lord to meet me.”
“Yes. I know he would be honored.”
Ulithan’s smile widened, and she had the feeling that he understood how very true were her words. She did know, for she had discussed it with Turisan, and Ulithan seemed to perceive this.
Eliani stepped toward the cliff and made to climb down, but was stayed by a touch on her arm. Vanorin stood beside her.
“Let me go first, my lady.”
“Is your ankle steady enough to find footing?”
“If it is not, I would not wish to fall upon you.”
He started down the cliff, and looked secure enough. Luruthin moved past Eliani to follow him. Left alone with Ulithan, she offered him her arm. After a slight hesitation he clasped it, his khi strong and deep as she remembered.
“Farewell.”
She could not help smiling with fondness, and Ulithan returned the smile as he released her and stepped backward. Eliani began to climb down, knowing that he stayed to watch her, that he would stay watching until they had passed out of his sight.
The climb seemed much shorter in calm weather than it had in the storm’s fury, and
in moments the three of them were standing together on the ledge where Vanorin had fallen. Ulithan had told them of a trail that led down to the river Varindel, which they easily found. Following this path they made much better progress than they had coming up through the woods, and before the night was half gone they had reached the little falls and the cave.
The snow was less deep here, only a handspan at most. They paused to drink from the pool, the icy water biting Eliani’s hands and chilling her insides.
Vanorin stood upon the broad stone gazing up at the sky, no doubt calculating how much longer they could travel that night before seeking shelter. He sensed Eliani’s gaze and met it, and she saw that he shared her concern. Luruthin must hunt, and soon.
Eliani glanced at her cousin, who had taken water from the pool and was now pacing its edge rather restlessly. She remembered bleeding into a cup for his sake, along with Vanorin, on this very rock.
“Luruthin...if we cannot find kobalen tonight—”
“No.”
Eliani pressed her lips together, then took a breath. “Only enough to get you through—”
“No!”
Anger flared in his eyes, making him look savage for a moment. He squeezed them shut and appeared to struggle briefly. When he looked at her again it was with her own kindred’s affection.
“Thank you for your generosity, but no. I have no wish to....”
“We understand.” Vanorin glanced at Eliani, warning in his eyes. “We shall have to find kobalen, that is all. Are you ready?”
They started downriver once more, following the bank as they had done before. Soon the roar of the larger cascade reached them, first whispering at the border of hearing, then growing to a constant rumble.
Ice hung in long spikes from the snowy shore into the water, which must be piercing cold. Drifts of chill mist reached them from below. Luruthin’s face was hard as he gazed down at the broken rocks in the pool.
“A bitter drop.”
Eliani took a step nearer to him and he turned his head to look at her. She slid her hand into his and gripped it. The prickling in his khi was much sharper now, unpleasant against her palm, but she kept her grasp and gently pulled Luruthin away from the falls.
“Watersmeet? The Steppes?”
