Hearts in Cups

by Candace Gylgayton

  "I don't know for certain, but I might be able to tap into the power." A blush of colour rose up her neck and stained her cheeks.

  His face was set and his eyes grew serious. "And you would be willing to try to use that power to help in the defense of Castle Lir?"

  "Of course!" Her answer was off her tongue before she knew it. "That is one of the reasons that I came looking for you: to tell you that I wanted to help if I could," she added circumspectly.

  The smile he favoured her with was one of admiration and gratitude, but in the depths of his eyes there lingered an uncertain speculation. Angharad, who was still grappling with the flood of thoughts and emotions that she had set loose within herself, failed to read the meaning of his hesitancy. Determined to prove that she was no longer a child or a doll, she began to interrogate him about those aspects of the political situation in the Pentarchy with which she was unfamiliar.

  For his part, Ian was content to bide his time. He needed time and breathing room to consider what had changed between himself and this girl who had so precipitously come to life. He also needed time to assess his own feelings. Answering her questions, he steered their talk towards the scope of actions taking place beyond the walls of this particular room. When they were finished speaking, Angharad had acquired a good picture of what they were facing and some of the reasons that had led Ian to this crises where he had begun to feel a loss of nerve.

  Having gone far towards recovering that loss, Ian noticed that the shadows of evening were being thrown deeply into the room. With a quick and graceful movement, he was on his feet and stretching cramped muscles. Angharad stayed where she was, sitting on the hearth, slightly taken aback and suddenly unsure again of her position. Stepping forward, he bent and offered his hand to her. As she placed her hand in his, she recognized the sealing of a truce between them. Ian also saw in the acceptance something more than a simple aid to standing, but his hand was cool and his touch light and unthreatening. Together, they stole forth from the room and returned to the mainstream of the castle's life.

  "They won't budge then?" Colin asked with a sigh of resignation.

  "No, my friend, in this matter they will not be moved, cannot be moved," the mage master, Ciaran, said slowly.

  Teacher and former pupil, the two men sat together beside the balustrade on the roof of one of the Scholastium's buildings. The weather was cool and there was a hint of rain on the salt-laden air that was blowing in from the east. Colin and his wife had been almost a week now at the Scholastium, long enough to recover themselves and begin planning their next moves. About them the novices went about their routines, much as they always had, with little outward interest in the visitors. There was a certain soothing quality that both Colin and Dinea experienced in this return to the Scholastium with its well-known rhythm and flow of life. Little was seen of the other mage masters except Ciaran, who had befriended Colin many years ago and was not unwilling to remember that friendship.

  "You must understand our position of neutrality. It is only because we are so scrupulously neutral that we are able maintain the balance that we do. Not just in political terms but in arcane aspects as well. We teach and practice High Magic, if you will, which has definite good and evil components. While we encourage the positive and beneficial aspects of this knowledge, we do not do so at the expense of polarizing ourselves to the darker aspects. If we did, those who command the darker powers would be inclined to oppose us. Struggle, for us, can only be avoided by not taking sides." Ciaran sat on his seat and gazed out into the distance. "Individually, our hearts may be swayed one way or another, but no one will act independently in this and so, possibly, put the Scholastium into jeopardy."

  "And do you now run a risk by speaking thus with me?" Colin demanded.

  "No, of course not," Ciaran seemed mildly surprised. "I know you and Dinea from former days, as do many of the other masters. I know that you will not try to embroil us, or any within these walls, in actions that have been proscribed to you."

  Colin's face echoed the truth of this but still he persevered in asking questions, trying to find a way to gain allies in his struggle to put the Pentarchy back together. He had been down into the city, to the market area, and visited the wharves the day before. There he heard that Pentarin was now occupied by the armies of both Mirvanovir and Tuenth. He also had news of the invasion of Langstraad by the Earl of the Inner Ward. The north and south of the Pentarchy had fallen and now the west seemed the only bulwark still standing in opposition to Niall's ambition.

  "Is there nothing or no one that could move the Scholastium to help us preserve the Pentarchy?" There was a measure of desperation in Colin's voice as he searched the mage's face.

  Ciaran shook his head. "It is remotely possible that the archmage would consent to grant assistance if he were personally petitioned by House Sandovar itself, but that is a slim hope, failing to no hope since you say that the crown prince is lost."

  An inspired thought crossed Colin's mind and he sat pondering it for several minutes before offering it to Ciaran. "Do you think that Kyledyr might entertain a petition from a corollary of House Sandovar?'

  "I don't quite follow you..."

  "Prince Brian was the only son of King Gwydian, but Lord Gervase Iscoed is a direct descendant of House Sandovar through his mother, Bronwyn Cordella ap Gryffyd. In fact, it may even be possible that Gervase actually carries the potential to assume the powers of House Sandovar." He stopped to ascertain Ciaran's response. Ciaran was looking uncertain but not discouraging. The longer he took to consider, the more heartened Colin began to feel.

  At last Ciaran replied, "I do not wish to give you false hope, Colin, but I think that there might be a chance that Kyledyr would listen to a petition from that corner. However," and here his face and voice became stern, "do not assume that this is a course that I can champion for you. It is an option that is open to you and if you wish to pursue it then you must run its risks yourself."

  Colin agreed but went on to add, "There are few enough avenues for me to follow in this matter. I am not much of a fighter and even if I were, Mirvanovir's troops are holding my lands fast from me. Though you and your colleges do not seem to think that arcane energies will be unleashed, I know that Rashara is an extremely able adept and she will not refrain from using her powers to gain her objective."

  Ciaran was troubled by this but it still did not sway his judgment. Just as he had an individual liking and interest in Colin de Chantalcalm, so might another mage view Rashara de Sharonnara. Balance was the key. So long as the House Powers were undisturbed, the sway between dark and light arcane energies could take place without their interference.

  Dinea hid her own fears when Colin returned from his private meeting with Ciaran and outlined his plan to have Gervase Iscoed petition the archmage to intervene. He went on to explained that, since the armies of Tuenth, Mirvanovir and, now, the Inner Ward lay between Dacara on the eastern coast and Gervase's barony on the western coast of Langstraad, he thought to hire a small ship to take him around the main peninsular of the Pentarchy.

  "But Colin," she said quietly wringing her hands. "You know how reclusive Gervase is. What if he refuses? There you'll be, trapped in Iscoed! At least let me come with you."

  "No, my love. The voyage will be a long and arduous one, but it is not solely because of the danger that you must remain, or that I know how ill sea-travel makes you." His smile was fond. "Cerwen will be bringing the children here as soon as she knows of our whereabouts. I realize that it is aggravating to feel that you are being left behind, but nothing can be gained by risking both our lives, and you know that you will want to be here when Cerwen arrives. "

  Aware that Colin had already made his mind up and would not be dissuaded, Dinea gloomily yielded. Privately she felt that he was going on a fool's mission, but she could offer no alternative. Like her husband, she viewed the mage masters as the Pentarchy's last hope against the collapse that was threatening it from within.

>   "One last thing," Colin said after giving her a hug. "Ciaran made reference to the fact that, just as he has formed a particular friendship with us, there may be one or more of the masters who feel likewise towards Rashara. I think that it would be prudent if you could somehow find out if there is sympathy for her and Mirvanovir's cause within the Scholastium, while I am away."

  Dinea agreed, and brushed her hand lightly over his temples and through the sleekness of Colin's hair. Silver was beginning to vein the gold, she noted tenderly. At once a premonition of fear grabbed at her. Despite their many years together, there had been far too few of them and she was unwilling to be parted from him. To keep her own fears from inhibiting him, she pulled his mouth towards hers and kissed him feverishly. As he returned her kiss, she knew that he had followed her thoughts and understood her fears. Slowly her tension and dread drained away and were replaced by a peace that was one part acceptance and one part the knowledge that where one of them resided, the other was always near.

  Chapter 21

  The army that approached the Gannerly Vale of Langstraad was not as large as the army that the Earl of the Inner Ward had brought down from the north, but then, the young duke at its fore had not had as much time to recruit and train an army, being engaged in securing his coronet while Lord Brescom practiced field maneuvers. Be that as it may, the army was not inconsiderable and its potential threat was much greater. So thought a disdainful Blaise ap Halberstad, Duke of Tuenth, as the van of his army began its trek up the peaceful seeming valley to the mountains where he knew the enemy was waiting for him.

  His time alone with Rashara in Pentarin had been immensely profitable. In addition to the pleasurable aspects of being that lady's lover, Rashara had helped to unlock those powers of his House which had hitherto lain dormant within him. It had not been easy, but the first time that the earth moved at his command made up for the pain, physical and mental, he had suffered during her attempts to find and loose that power. The exhilaration of it overwhelmed him. Rashara had been both impressed and, he noticed, slightly alarmed at the magnitude of his abilities. Together they worked to gain a measure of control over his gift. It had been frustrating for both of them to part before knowing the full extent of his powers, but he left promising that he would not be away for long. Their last night had bound him closer to her than ever before, a craving in him that defied satiation. The look that she had lavished on him when he left that morning still burned in his mind.

  "Advance scouts report enemy troops ahead at the pass into the mountains," his adjutant's voice buzzed in his ear.

  "How large a party is it?"

  "Less than one would expect to guard such a vital route," his man returned with a smile. "It appears that most of Langstraad's forces have gone north or south and few are left to guard their eastern front."

  "Very well; inform my commanders to ready their troops and prepare to meet the enemy head-on," Blaise ordered.

  The army drew up into formation and began the assault to gain the pass that would take them to Langstraad's heart, Castle Lir. The troops they faced did not retreat as quickly as it was assumed they would. Instead, they held their positions and only grudgingly gave up their ground. From his vantage point, closely surrounded by his personal guard, Blaise watched with interest the commencement of his first battle. They had only pushed a half-mile up the pass before darkness overcame them and halted the fighting.

  "At this rate it will take at least a week before we see the castle walls," Blaise remarked sourly to his commanders, when meeting with them later that evening to discuss the next day's strategy.

  Several of the men looked uncomfortable, but only one was bold enough to speak up. "It is difficult to fight on this terrain. The men we are fighting have the advantage over us."

  "And what is their advantage?" The duke's question had a peevish edge to it. "I was told this afternoon that the enemy were few in number and that the pass was not well guarded."

  Another man rose to give the reply. Thick of limb with a round head and barrel chest, Blaise knew him as the Baron de Reunne, a military man of sound sense and less imagination than his own father, the late duke. "Their advantage is that they are fighting on home ground. Those who fight on their own land always fight a little more fiercely. There are also more of them fighting than we originally reckoned. I think that the bulk of their troops were behind those that we first engaged at the mouth of the pass. I am also willing to bet that the majority of those we are fighting are mountain men of Langstraad. Fighting in the mountains is different than fighting in the open and most of our troops are lowlanders from the fen country of Tuenth."

  "Does this mean that we are going to take a week to make a three day journey?" Blaise tapped his boot with a stick irritably.

  Baron de Reunne was not easily cowed, especially by a youth so plainly wet behind the ears. Disturbed by the recent upheaval within the House to whom he owed his allegiance, nonetheless he had come forward and pledged willingly to this third son of Lord Gunnar's despite the irregularity of his assumption of power or his immediate embroilment in a civil war. "It may take us longer, depending on the terrain and weather," Blaise was bluntly informed.

  Carefully examining the toe of his gleaming boot, Blaise asked his next question in a voice heavy with speculation. "Are the troops before us spread out or are they fighting close together in the pass itself?"

  "So far in small groups, attacking and shifting their position. It's one of the reasons that our progress has been so slow." The young commander who had first spoken replied.

  "Does anyone know if there is a place in this damnable pass where the enemy will be forced by the terrain to close ranks?"

  "There is a narrowing about a mile further on, with steep hills and dense forest to either side. They will probably avoid the forest and retire through this section altogether, fanning out again once through it. In fact, it will be an excellent place for them to hold up our advance," the young man ventured.

  "Very well then," Blaise said making up his mind. "Push the enemy to that point and hold your position. I have a small trap to lay for them." In his eyes bright points of light kindled with amusement. "Be prepared to send our troops forward to prevent the escape of any who do not fall into my trap."

  Questions began to be raised, but Blaise silenced them with a curt order and sent the men out of his tent. He needed time to do a little thinking and planning. Mystified and irritated, the commanders of Tuenth’s army filed out, leaving Blaise alone to prepare for the test he had set for himself. In the dark of the tent, Blaise settled himself, reaching for the calm state of arcane trance that would help him tap into his power. Briefly Rashara's face rose in his mind, tormenting him with longing, but he forced the image out and concentrated only on unlocking his own mind.

  The picture from atop the walls and towers of Castle Lir was not a pleasant one. A quarter of a mile distant, the bulk of the army of the Inner Ward sat camped and waiting. Griswold had led a foray out against the Inner Ward's troops, but retreated quickly when it became apparent that the enemy was quite firmly entrenched. Both forces tried various offensive gambits, probing for any weaknesses in the other's defense, but both sides were effectively stalemated. The besiegers could not come in, and those within the castle could not get out. During the interim of testing, Brescom continued to draw his net close and tight about the castle walls. For his part, Griswold regularly marched those walls, checking their repair and occasionally looking into the distance as if to conjure an army to come and lift their siege. Fresh water within the confines of the castle ensured their holding out for a very long time, provided the walls remained intact, but it was not a proposition that Griswold relished.

  Life within the castle, after the first harrowing days, quickly fell into a pattern. Surprisingly, Lady Angharad emerged from the seclusion of her rooms to begin taking an active role in maintaining order within the castle and in the management of food and provisions. Initially, Dame Edwinna bridled aga
inst Angharad's new role, but when the young lady persisted and the lord of the castle had a private word in her ear, Edwinna relented. The girl now proved to be adept at discerning what needed to go where and at acting as Edwinna's deputy in matters with which she was unfamiliar.

  Angharad also saw a good deal more of Ian than she had in the past. After their emotionally charged conversation in the disused study, Ian had tried to include Angharad in plans for the castle's defense. She was routinely invited to all of his meetings with his general staff, both military and domestic. Though she rarely said anything during these sessions, she always listened and seemed interested in what was being discussed. He did not pursue or indicate an interest in anything other than friendship, and Angharad was grateful for his tact. An emotional tumult had replaced the coldness she had schooled herself into feeling, and now she was unsure as to which feelings were genuinely hers and which were caused by the intensity of the current situation.

  For his part, Ian was pleased to see the positive change in Angharad. He had always felt some guilt for the predicament that his pursuit of an alliance with her father had caused her, and to see her active and energetic assuaged some of his self-reproach. Though he continued to live in his own rooms and keep his private life to himself, he was gradually aware of a growing sense of dissatisfaction. Kathryn had ceased to amuse him and had taken on many of the aspects of a millstone. The dislike between her and his man Evan had escalated into a small war. Both told him two very different accounts of the treatment that Angharad had received on the afternoon she had ventured to his rooms in search of him. For the most part he judged Evan's account to be the truer by far, but reasoned it politic to simply state that Angharad was the lady of the castle and he expected her to be treated as such at all times. Both Evan and Kathryn understood him clearly and there had been no further incidents, at least none that had been brought to his attention.