by Katy Winter
"I'll take him, shall I?" she offered, arms out and with a smile. Sarehl nodded and lifted Kalbeth so Kasan could easily take him.
He watched her bend her head and croon to the child, as if Kalbeth were her own. Sarehl idly thought what a domestic scene they made, and what a restful and appealing sight Kasan was, and he even idly thought those watching might think the child in her arms was theirs.
As if she knew what Sarehl thought, Kasan looked up at him, her gray eyes shy but the message in them unmistakable. Sarehl felt shock when he stared down, his dark eyes swept into the emotion in hers and his mind in sudden agitation. A long slender hand went to his beard when realisation dawned.
"Kasan," he whispered, his voice husky. "Oh, gods!"
Kasan didn't look away; she just stayed where she was, her expression one of tenderness mixed with apprehension. Sarehl sensed she expected a rebuff and drew his chair close to hers. His arm went about her. He hauled her in close.
"Look at me, Kasan," he said, his voice quivering. She lifted her head, so she could gaze steadily and unblinkingly at him. "How long have you felt this way?"
"Since you first came to Taki," she whispered, her eyes big and watchful. Sarehl blinked.
"But that's so long ago, child."
"I know," she murmured. "You needn't remind me."
There was a very long silence, at the end of which Kasan bent her head. Sarehl was unmoving. Kasan bit her lower lip and looked away. Tears filled her eyes. She felt Sarehl's hand on the arm that held Kalbeth and spoke on a sob.
"I'm sorry, Sarehl. Can you just forget anything I've said?" Sarehl turned to fully face her, and, ignoring the gurgling child in her lap, enfolded her in long arms. His voice lacked its usual calm.
"I've been so blind, my dear. It's you should forgive me," he said, bending his head and kissing her hair.
"And am I too young to know love, Sarehl?" Sarehl tilted her head, a finger under her chin.
"And am I not too old for you?" he teased, a tremor still in the deep voice.
"Not at all," said a voice behind them. Both jumped and turned, their startled eyes meeting Kaleb's amused ones. "Give me the child," he suggested. When Kasan made no move, the healer stooped and gathered Kalbeth in his arms, nodded at them and turned away.
Sarehl looked back at Kasan. When he saw longing for him, he rose, helped her to her feet and held her in a crushing embrace that left her breathless. The kiss shook her. It was passionate and his fervour caught her unawares. Set back on the ground, she gave a nervous chuckle that made Sarehl stare down.
"Why the laugh, little one?" he asked.
"Such behaviour from the restrained and courtly Strategos!" She felt his hand run over her hair, before it took one of her hands in a very firm clasp.
"We need to talk, Kasan. This all goes too fast for me."
"You only need to know I care for you, Sarehl."
"You say you've known for a long time, child. I'm rather shaken and need a drink."
"Has it come as an unwelcome shock?" Kasan asked, coming to a sudden stop.
"When I think about it, it seems the most natural thing on Ambros to love you, Kasan, but the initial realisation was a profound shock, yes. I hadn't expected - I wasn't prepared."
"And now?" asked a soft voice beside him. Sarehl glanced down.
"Little love, I care deeply for you. I think I always have."
"But only now as the woman, because before I was just a little girl to you."
"Perhaps, love, but does it matter?"
"No," she said quietly, "not at all." They began to slowly walk. There was silence until Kasan spoke again. "Alicia?" Sarehl came to a halt and looked at the bent head. He knew what she was afraid to hear.
"You needn't fear ghosts, little one. When I give my heart, it's fully given."
"I don't seek to replace the mate and children you lost," Kasan whispered. Sarehl lifted her head very gently.
"Kasan," he said softly. "They're a part of me and important because of that and what I was, but they won't live as shadows. They're the past, love. You're the now and my future. One should never compete with the other and they never will. I come to you as one who wishes to offer you everything he is."
"Sar," she murmured, her head coming to rest on his chest. Sarehl had never been called that by her before and it made him smile. He hugged her and they continued walking.
Nearing Sarehl's offices, Kasan said, "Your friends will be pleased."
"Well, Kaleb knows," agreed Sarehl, somewhat ruefully.
"They all know," admitted Kasan. "They've known for seasons." Sarehl stood still.
"What do you mean?" Kasan smiled up at him, her hand at his cheek.
"I must've been more obvious than I thought," she murmured apologetically. "I know I couldn't help watching you, so that must have been what told them. Dase knew too." Sarehl stared down at her, a smile creeping into his eyes.
"My love, I've been more than blind, haven't I?"
"No, Sarehl, preoccupied."
"Dase tried, in his own way, to tell me. And Kaleb?" Kasan's delightful chuckle sounded.
"He's known for longest, or perhaps Kalor has." She tugged at his arm, but Sarehl still looked down at her, an arrested expression on his face. Her look up at him was shy.
"And Ensore, your big brother?" A faint smile touched the gray eyes.
"I told Ens how I felt, a long time ago, Sar." Sarehl's voice was noticeably strained.
"And?"
"Ens told me to wait." Kasan paused and then went on hesitantly, "He told me you're very different from other men, and, if you ever loved again, something neither he nor Kaleb thought you would, you'd feel a very profound and powerful emotion that might overwhelm you."
"He's right," said Sarehl, in a choked voice.
"And," went on the calm voice, "he thought that it might come as a deep shock. It has, hasn't it?" Sarehl nodded, unable to speak. He blinked rapidly. "Ens told me I couldn't love any man who had as much to offer as you. He thinks very highly of you, Sarehl."
She heard a faint sniff and stood on tiptoe so she could turn Sarehl's averted head to face her. Her hand, brushing a wet cheek, was held. Sarehl spoke with difficulty.
"Kasan," he began, coughing away the lump he felt in his throat. "I've no city and no title. I'm a would-be scholar with no pretensions of any kind. You're a royal princess - your people would never countenance your mating with me." Her response was swift and blunt.
"I've no country and carry an empty title, nor have I walked on my birth soil for over half my life. My people, my love, will accept me with whomever I choose to mate." She heard a stifled laugh and gave an indignant sniff. "Why then do you laugh?"
"That sounded very Ensore and very Dahkilah," mumbled Sarehl, wiping his cheeks as another laugh shook him.
~~~
Sarehl's courtship of Kasan was very gentle, the Kyaran king delighted the Strategos found romance in his realm. He smiled benevolently on the pair whenever he saw them, and was at pains to point out, to one and all, that it was the bracing northern air that worked its charm. He was anxious to see the couple in wedlock, but bowed to Sarehl's insistence that Samars didn't wed in the northern or southern way, merely saying that he thought the nuptials would lighten the winter gloom. Sarehl just smiled and left it at that.
The queen wasn't so pleased. She felt the absence of Daxel sorely and the princesses were inconsolable, Tamil going so far as to say she thought it insensitive of the Strategos to show so clear a preference for a princess from another country. Kalor twitted Sarehl on this and got an absent-minded, sleepy smile in response.
Sarehl's friends noticed some of the tension, a part of Sarehl for so long, now eased. His routine didn't change and he remained his usual charming self, but Kaleb noticed the ever-present smile that touched the dark eyes when they rested on Kasan. The Strategos was less of a driven man.
It was Kaleb who came into Sarehl's office one morning, a letter in his hand. Sarehl looked up wi
th the affectionate smile he reserved for his intimates. He finished rolling up scrolls and, placing them to one side, began the more urgent task of finding ale and tankards. Kaleb watched him.
"What are you working on, Sarehl?" Sarehl handed the healer a tankard and then threw himself into the nearest chair.
"A battle plan," he replied. "More, perhaps, a contingency plan than anything else. It's tiring work trying to sort out options and what-ifs." Kaleb sipped his ale thoughtfully.
"Are you getting more assistance these days?"
"Oh, aye, mostly," sighed Sarehl, brushing back his hair. "I don't have to fight every inch of the way anymore and have all the support I want. It's just there are so many things I can only do for myself."
"So you're recognised for what you've tried so hard to do then, over all the long cycles?"
"Yes," acknowledged Sarehl in surprise. "I suppose I am, my friend. I think that's crept up on me."
"It's more than time it was so," observed Kaleb calmly, his eyes lifting from the tankard. "And the heart, Sarehl?"
Sarehl's eyes sparkled in a way that made him look so much younger, Kaleb thought, and he needed no answer. Sarehl knew he didn't.
"Nothing will change between us, Kaleb." Kaleb smiled at him, his expression gentle as always.
"We've no doubts about that, Sarehl. We all know you very well." The healer paused. "Have you done any more researching lately?" He saw the guilty look on Sarehl's face and broke into laughter. "You can read and study, you know. Just be discreet." Sarehl stretched.
"I am," he assured Kaleb with a twinkle. The two men sat in companionable silence until they finished their ale.
After the healer put his tankard on the table beside him, he rose to go. He looked across at Sarehl who looked a question.
"Did I see a letter come with you?"
"Aye."
Kaleb lifted it from his lap and held it out. Sarehl recognised the writing and though the healer made no comment, he saw how Sarehl's hand shook. The letter was unusually short.
"Sarehl – Kasan's written to me, my friend, and her news touches me deeply. I couldn't wish my little sister to place her affections anywhere but where they are, and to welcome you as a brother gives me unspeakable joy.
She tells me, Sarehl, you speak of having nothing to offer. That, my friend, is foolish. Life for us all will never be the same again and you know that as well as I do. Titles have no meaning for me, because you know I believe it's what we make of ourselves and our talents that's important. And as far as I'm concerned, you offer my sister more than any other man. She's blessed to have found you. Forget Dahkilah, my friend, and enjoy peace and happiness together.
I've just thought that this makes Dase, not to mention your other siblings, one of our family, so that's a delightful and unexpected bonus. Eli's happy for you too. And when I spoke to Ongwin, the man just gave his slow smile of delight. I hope, Sarehl, it won't be long before we see one another again - it's been too long. There's no substitute for the company of a dear friend.
So pleased little Kalbeth thrives. I gather from Dase that he favours your side of the family and in time may well be a clone of Bethel. Life, Sarehl, is one irony after another. Yours, as ever, Ensore."
When Sarehl looked up, his eyes moist, he noticed the healer had gone. He went back to his desk, where he sat with his head in his hands for a long time. That evening, Sarehl went to Kasan's quarters, where she awaited him in shy anticipation. Though they mated that night, no one other than Sarehl's friends knew and the court went on assuming Samar courtship was a prolonged affair. Had anyone looked closely at the Dahkilan princess, they'd have seen the inner glow, but nobody did.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Soji blossomed, contented with her new life. By the time they left the plains, she was pregnant. Sagi noticed that Soji's skills as a seer increased both with confidence and maternity, the clarity and definition of her seeing greatly enhanced. Sagi and Setoni watched her development with pleasure; Asok, as usual, made no comment.
Once they reached the mountain chain that, crossed, would bring them to the south-eastern border of the Shadowlands, they were well into northern Ambros and Soji carried a boy in her horse cradle. He was called Carok, a name that meant `child of the steppes', and was born with hair as white as his father's, his eyes sometimes dark gray, sometimes dark blue. It depended on the light. He was as placid as his father and as Jonqi was as an infant. There was no attempt or desire to name the child in the Churchik way.
Jonqi adored her brother and, usually a silent child, was talkative with Carok. Her very pale skin and eye shape remained the only sign of her Churchik heritage. With her elfin-shaped face, none of those around her could know how very like Myme Chlo she was at the same age, though in personality she was quite unlike. She was still a placid, thoughtful and gentle child.
While they travelled, Asok took the little girl with him quite often. She'd be seen walking with him, her hand clasped in his, or up in front of him when he rode. No one knew if the man and child talked. No one saw them do so, but it was apparent to an observer, like Leontok, that there was deep trust, love and understanding between them.
Though Soji had less time for Jonqi now Carok was born, the bond between mother and child stayed close. Jonqi had long since accepted Leontok as her father and called him the steppe title for father - pasangan. He, in turn, always referred to her as his little black-eyed daughter and treated her as such. As time went on, Jonqi became a steppe child in all but looks, her long willowy shape as supple as the grasses they travelled across. She ran as fleet-footed as any steppe child, from morning to night, if they were camped long enough for her to do so.
Soji's seeing became clearer and more vivid. It was more controlled. She most often saw Luton. She talked with Setoni who passed on what she saw to the Mishtok.
By autumn, the travellers approached the mountains that constituted their last hurdle to get Soji and Jonqi to more safety. Soji knew dread when they finally reached the base of the alps. It took her back to her escape from the Churchik and she couldn't help a shiver of foreboding when she stared up at the peaks soaring above. Leontok touched her shoulder, his eyebrows raised enquiringly.
"What troubles you, Soji?" She turned so their eyes met, her smile bleak.
"I feel the cold, Leon, I always will. Mountains remind me of unhappy times." Even though Leontok had Jonqi in front of him, he managed to lean across and pull their horses close together. He spoke firmly and reassuringly.
"There's nothing to fear. You aren't alone and I wouldn't let any harm you." She took his outstretched hand and clutched it.
"I know," she murmured. "It's a silly fear." It was noticeable that her speech patterns were no longer southern.
They began the ascent the next day. It was the beginning of a long and arduous climb that was to try them all, the days becoming increasingly colder and shorter the higher they traversed. Soji was as warmly clad as it was possible for her to be, but still she coughed and sometimes shivered, as if she'd never be warm.
Setoni took to riding with her, concerned she may ache. When asked if she did, she shook her head and coughed again. She was relieved of both children and found one morning that Asokin was beside her horse. She looked enquiringly at him.
"Why are you here?" she asked with a smile.
"Leon says you're to ride and I'm to lead your horse. He doesn't want you walking any more."
"Oh," said Soji blankly, obligingly clambering up onto the horse.
~~~
Five weeks passed. They managed to struggle over the first pass in weather that turned from bad to worse and was now bitterly cold. This evening, most of the steppefolk had retired for the night, and only the healer, Asok and Sagi remained about the fire, cups of steaming liquid in their hands. They were two-thirds the way up the second mountain chain, set for the night in a meadow tucked below a plateau they had to reach the following day. It was their last eas
y night before they left any vestige of life for the icy cliffs that towered above. The drifts of snow had stopped, but the air about the silent threesome was bitter.
Because it was silent about them, they heard the footsteps before they turned to see Leontok approach, his face set in graven lines of worry.
"Setoni," he said urgently. "It's Soji. She's ill, though onset's been so fast."
The healer took one look into Leontok's eyes and was on his feet in an instant, following the young man without a word. Soji lay very still, eyes closed and breathing laboured. Setoni's worst fears were realised as he looked up at Leontok.
"What is it? Can you help her?"
"It's the same again. Get Sagi for me, boy, quickly."
The healer and Sagi struggled to save Soji who remained barely conscious, though when she was awake she moaned with pain, cried weakly and pleaded for relief. She was a submissive patient, but fretted over the children and Leontok and called for them. Her breath came in little gasps.
On the second day, Setoni went outside to get some fresh air, though it was cruelly raw and made him shiver. He knew Sagi stood beside him, with a steaming drink he gratefully took. He had black rings of exhaustion under his eyes.
"Tell me, Setoni. Are we losing that child?"
"Today, Sagi, is the turning point. She'll either come out of it, or not. If it's the latter, she'll be dead within a day."
"Is it her lungs?"
"Not as they were, no." Setoni rubbed a tired hand across his face. "It's her heart weakened a second time."
The two stood there, in absolute silence, only broken by the unexpected sight of the little girl who ran past them and into the cave where Soji lay. Together they turned in haste and followed, drawing up short at the entrance at the sight of Jonqi, on her knees beside her mother, her small hands grasping one of Soji's and the flute-like voice urgent.
"Stay for me. Promise you'll stay for me, Masangan."
Setoni stepped forward, but Sagi pulled him back with a shake of the head. The little voice became increasingly distressed and urgent. Sagi didn't think she was being fanciful when she found herself thinking the little child's voice touched Soji in some way.
When they left the young woman she was still, white and listless, her face wax-like, as close, Sagi thought with a convulsive shiver, to being a corpse as it was possible to be. But now, as Jonqi pleaded, Soji's mouth opened to a small moan and her eyelashes flickered. The insistent calling didn't stop.
