Thunderlord

by Marion Zimmer Bradley

  Finally Sadhi admitted Gwynn to the bedroom. “How are you feeling?” he asked, bending over her bed.

  “Did they tell you?” Everything?

  Something in his eyes shifted so that for an instant, they looked like the hooded eyes of a bird of prey. “They told me that laran was the only way to save your life and that only the leroni of the Tower had the skill. They are a law unto themselves, I think. One of them made a point of telling me that the only reason the queen was allowed—allowed—to attend you was that she herself had once studied there.”

  “Yes,” she said, thinking it wiser to not mention that Edric had been there, too. She was so weary, she could not think clearly.

  Alayna’s eyes closed without her conscious will as Gwynn went on talking about how, despite their airs, the Towers were nonetheless beholden to their liege lord—in this case, Hastur—and a good thing, too, for who knew what they might do if left to answer only to themselves. He was talking to fill up the time, venting his frustration and worry. Perhaps there was more, a nagging fear that the day might come when the king who commanded the most powerful Tower would dominate all the others. And now his own hope of an heir who need never be beholden to a Lowland king was gone.

  Judging by the light, it was early morning when Sadhi came in, helped Alayna to the chamber pot, washed her face and hands, combed and braided her hair, and then changed her into a fresh nightgown. Gwynn did not appear, and his side of the bed showed no sign of having been slept in, not that Alayna would have remembered his being there, she had slept so deeply. He must have slept elsewhere to avoid interrupting her rest. If she’d dreamed, she could not remember.

  Sadhi brought in a pitcher of an aromatic tisane, a little toast, and a soft cooked egg. Alayna felt well enough to sit up but only for a few minutes at a time, necessitating several tries to finish the meal. She lay back against the pillows. “Where is my husband?”

  “Have you a message for him? I’ll take it, although I can’t promise to find him right away. Word is, his lordship and the king, and several other lords as well, will be in council much of the day. Midsummer, after the Festival itself, all the lords and those ladies who hold power in their Houses, they gather together at the king’s behest.”

  “And do what?”

  “Oh, talk about this and that. Trade, marriages, water rights, the settling of disputes.”

  Gwynn was gone all day, as was Ruyven. Alayna slept so much of the time, she hardly noticed their absence. She did, however, feel a pang of disappointment when Gwynn sat with her briefly in the early evening and then departed. Her conscience chided her, for the dinner engagement was one of several at which Gwynn hoped to make connections with other powerful Houses. She probably wouldn’t be able to stay awake for the banquet, anyway. The affair was expected to last through the early hours of the following day, if not dawn, or so Gwynn said.

  Having ordered Sadhi to her own rest, Alayna tried to drowse, but her mind was too restless. She kept imagining all the things that could go wrong between Gwynn and Edric, and then her thoughts returned to how the succession for Scathfell might be assured. A foster son? Or did Gwynn have nedestro children? He’d never mentioned any, but perhaps that was out of regard for her dignity. A kinsman to inherit? Zandru’s hells, let it not be Nevin!

  Sighing heavily, Alayna flopped on her side, wishing she’d asked Sadhi to find her a book. Even if she had, the candlelight was adequate for finding the chamber pot but not for reading. She’d been too incoherent to ask Arielle when she might have visitors, not that she knew anyone here. Edric couldn’t very well see her—a man who was neither husband nor kinsman must not be admitted to her bedroom. And she wouldn’t dare ask for the queen.

  She flopped over to the other side, aware that she was working herself into a fit of self-pity. She’d wanted to come here, and even if she spent the rest of their time in this room, she ought not to complain. She’d seen something of the city, and she’d been to a royal ball. Sword dancers had performed for her—well, not exactly for her but for the audience that included her. And the queen herself had taken notice. Surely that must be enough glamour and excitement for one lifetime. She must find a way to be satisfied and properly appreciative. Back at Rockraven, she had dreamed of encounters with elegant lords and ladies, of dances and gowns and jewels and music, and she had already had her share.

  Remembering the ball sweetened her temper. At any rate, there was nothing to be done, except follow Arielle’s instructions and hope to recover quickly enough to enjoy a little more of the season before she had to go home again.

  I have been fortunate in so many ways. If I cannot have everything I have ever wished for, still I must be content.

  A tap at the door broke into her musings. Instantly, she felt a bit more cheerful, which was a pitiable thing—to derive pleasure from a maid come to remove the dinner tray.

  “Enter! I’m awake.”

  The door swung open and a figure, cloaked and hooded, stepped inside. Alayna couldn’t make out details in the dim light, but this was not a maidservant. Nor was it the queen, who had no need to go about in disguise. She sat up, her pulse quickening.

  “Who are you and what do you want?” she asked, trying to sound confident and not succeeding very well. “Are you sure you’re in the right room?”

  The figure sat beside Alayna on the bed and pushed back the hood. The light from the candles fell full upon the intruder’s face.

  Alayna’s jaw dropped open. It was not—it could not be—

  Am I dead? Her vision went swimmy and her ears caught the muffled thump of her body falling back on the pillows. Then someone was calling her name and shaking her, or maybe the bed itself was moving, maybe she was still in the litter on her way from Hali Tower to Thendara, and she had fallen asleep. She squeezed her eyes shut, convinced herself that she could not possibly be awake, and then opened them again.

  Kyria was still there. Eyes bright, cheeks rounded with health and a bit more plumpness than Alayna remembered. Mouth grinning in that achingly familiar, we-share-a-secret way.

  Alayna reached out to touch Kyria’s hand, then drew back. She half expected Kyria to go gray and misty, the way she had in the Overworld. Or to disappear entirely. “How can you be here? There is something wrong with me. I must be delirious, hallucinating from fever.” She blinked hard, but the face before her did not disappear.

  “Dearest, you are not imagining things. I am as real as you are.”

  Real. With that thought, Alayna flung herself into Kyria’s arms. Kyria was alive, alive and here in this room, hugging her back, sobbing and laughing until Alayna could not tell the difference between them. A whirlwind of relief and joy had caught her up, and it was all she could do to repeat to herself, She’s alive, she’s alive.

  “But you died,” Alayna said at last, pulling away. “They said you died—”

  “Hush, I’m here now. Everything will be all right.”

  “All right? How can you say all right? You—you wretched thing! I cried my eyes out for you. How dare you deceive me in this way?” Alayna lashed out, but the blows lacked the force to do more than graze the folds of Kyria’s cloak. “I—thought—I’d—lost—you!”

  Kyria caught Alayna’s hands and held them. “Calm down, Layna. I know it’s a shock, but I’ll explain everything, I promise. Please stop struggling. You’ve been so ill, becoming distraught cannot be good for you.”

  Alayna fought back her tears, taking deep, sobbing breaths.

  “Please believe how sorry I am for having caused you so much pain,” Kyria said. “I wish I could have got word to you, but I didn’t dare. It was too risky. Then when I heard what happened—how you’d lost your babe and very nearly your life—and that you could not have more children—I couldn’t stay away. It was hard enough, letting you believe the worst about me, but if I’d lost you without even a farewell, I could never forgive m
yself. But you are out of danger now,” she went on, entwining her fingers in Alayna’s, “and the men will be at their meeting and drinking for hours. So I thought it was not too great a risk to come to you. I thought—I hoped—that seeing me and knowing I am alive and well—even if this is our only chance to visit—might be the best medicine. I am so sorry for your losses.”

  “I will learn to live with them,” Alayna said, in between hiccoughs. “For this moment, right now, I can’t express how happy I am. I feel as if I’m dreaming, and I don’t ever want to wake up. But it’s all so strange. So much has happened since that ambush on the trail. Gwynn—Lord Scathfell, that is—sent a party to bargain for your release. When they returned with the news—” She shied away from the memory of that dreadful scene. “They said you’d died—the Sain Erach bandits.”

  “I was their captive, true, but only for a little while. Then Edric rescued me. At your behest, my dearest, most loyal sister. Though I think he would have come after me of his own accord, it touches my heart that he did so with your blessing.”

  Edric from the traveler’s shelter. Edric, Lord Aldaran, of the Sword Dance. Edric, Gwynn’s enemy. Edric, who sent the rryl . . . Alayna brushed away the last of her tears with the back of one hand. “I thought you were dead,” she repeated, still too overcome with emotion to think clearly. “I was all alone. I didn’t know what to do.”

  “I would not for the world have caused you such pain if I believed I had a choice,” Kyria said. “I did what I thought best in order to survive. Sain Erach was a hideous place, not one you’d wish on your worst enemy. When Edric snuck into my cell, of course I went with him.”

  You could have let me know. As soon as the thought came to her, she realized that whatever her sister’s reasons for remaining hidden, they must have been compelling. Kyria was alive and out of the hands of the bandits, and surely that was what really mattered.

  “Lie down, and I’ll tell you the whole story. I would not want you to relapse on my account.” Kyria tucked the comforters around Alayna’s shoulders. “There. So you want to hear all about the rescue and flight through the mountains, all liberally sprinkled with romance?”

  “Don’t tease. You know I do.”

  “Very well, although I’m afraid it wasn’t at all like the tales we used to tell one another. Edric got me out of that horrible place, just as he promised you, even though all kinds of things went wrong.”

  Kyria launched into the telling: the flight from bandits, the perils of the trail, and how Edric had nearly frozen to death. From the tone of her voice and her smile whenever she said his name, she had fallen in love with him. When she related their desperate battle against the banshee, Alayna’s heart beat very fast, as if she herself were facing such a dangerous predator.

  “That part is far more entertaining in the telling than it was at the time,” Kyria said. “Neither one of us expected to survive, and we very nearly didn’t. So—bandits and freezing cold and giant carnivorous birds,” she counted on her fingers. “We finally made it to Aldaran Castle. And then here to Thendara, Edric at King Allart’s invitation, and me to Hali Tower on business of my own.”

  The way Kyria phrased the reasons for making the journey struck Alayna as guarded, as if Kyria’s presence must be kept secret. “Hali Tower? What business brought you there?”

  “Well . . .” Kyria spread her hands over her belly, and now Alayna noticed the roundness.

  “You’re with child,” Alayna exclaimed. “And it’s Edric’s?”

  “Indeed.”

  Then we each have found love. “I’m so happy for you. For both of us.”

  Kyria’s expression turned pensive. “I wish it were as simple as the stories we used to tell each other, with happy endings for both of us. It seems we have had the misfortune to fall in love with enemies.”

  “It’s not fair that a grudge between men who are now in their graves should keep us apart. It’s high time that feud was over.”

  “I agree with you, and so does Edric, but such is not the way of men. It’s all very well for the two of us to be as close as close can be, but the situation between Aldaran and Scathfell remains precarious. It would take very little to plunge both realms into war. Edric is doing everything he can to build a truce, if not an alliance, but it will take time. We dare not risk how Lord Scathfell might react if he found out I was alive but had allowed him to believe otherwise.”

  “He was absolutely furious at the news,” Alayna said, “but there was no one to blame except Captain Francisco, who was sent to negotiate your ransom, and the bandits themselves.”

  “I hope Lord Scathfell did not vent his anger on the captain. It was not his fault I could not go through with the betrothal, and the only way out of it was to disappear and let everyone think I was dead.”

  Alayna sighed. “I’m afraid Gwynn exiled the poor captain, but at least he did not execute him.” She remembered wondering about taking her sister’s place as Lady Scathfell, but then she remembered the tenderness in Gwynn’s eyes and the way he touched her, and any question as to whether he really cared for her vanished. Despite her grief when she believed Kyria dead, she now had a husband she loved and who loved her.

  “So you understand why I did not come to you right away,” Kyria said, “and why I am here in secret?” When Alayna nodded, she went on. “I have been staying out of the way, mostly at Hali Tower, where I came to consult with the leroni.”

  “I’ve never heard of such a thing. Isn’t it unusual to come all this way? Oh, no—are you—? Please tell me you are not subject to the same ills as I was.”

  “No, this was to make sure both my sons are healthy and that their birth will not pose an undue . . .” Kyria hesitated, searching for the right words. “No undue risk to me.”

  “Boys—and twins? I will be an auntie twice over. But what do you mean posing an undue risk? You look as healthy as ever.”

  Kyria looked away, but not before Alayna caught the shadowed expression in her eyes. “At home, no one talked about the dangers of the Rockraven Gift, beyond the usual troubles of threshold sickness. I’d always assumed that since I—and you, too—survived puberty reasonably well, we were safe. Most of the time, there is no problem, but should an unborn babe inherit the Gift and manifest it during birth, summoning lightning, the consequences might be fatal.”

  “I don’t understand. How could a babe do that from its mother’s womb?”

  “How indeed? Such a thing should not be possible, but it has happened. Our Great-Aunt Aliciane died in childbirth in just such a fashion.”

  Alayna felt as if her head were stuffed with feathers. “How do you know—oh, yes. She was the mistress of Old Lord Aldaran, so Edric would have known.”

  “Her Gift was inherited by her daughter Dorilys, the one we all called the Witch-Child of Aldaran, and by her son Donal, Edric’s father. You and I carry those same genes.”

  So Gwynn believed when he proposed marriage to me.

  After a pause, Kyria went on. “Any child of mine might inherit the trait through me or Edric. Or through us both. I sought the counsel of Hali Tower to make sure this pregnancy is safe.”

  “And? What did they say?”

  “As you may guess from my relieved expression, their news was good. My sons do carry the Gift, but there is no sign it will awaken early, if at all. That is a blessing in more ways than one. I will have my hands full with two boys, even if they are not shooting lightning bolts at one another.”

  “Well do I remembering the scrapes Gwillim and Esteban got into at home,” Alayna said. “Not to mention the trouble Rakhal got you into with his traps.”

  “In his defense, those skills saved my life and Edric’s, and were as much my doing as Rakhal’s, which is why I have a healthy respect for the mischief children can get into.”

  “Then they will clearly be in need of a doting auntie. Even if I canno
t have children, I will love yours as dearly as if they were my own.”

  “You will make a most excellent auntie, even though it may not be possible for us to visit for some time. If Lord Scathfell were to learn I am bearing Edric’s sons, even if they are nedestro—well, there is no telling what he might do.”

  “Nedestro? Then you are not married? Father would have a fit if he knew. Why ever not? Did Edric not wish to marry you, or is he not free to do so?”

  “He has no prior obligation, only the desirability of a political alliance with one of the powerful Houses,” Kyria admitted. “That was why we hesitated to make any formal pledge at first. And so we might have continued, except that when we arrived at Aldaran Castle, Lady Renata took one look at us and knew how deeply we had come to care about each other. She’s not only his mother but a Tower-trained leronis. Edric insisted he would not set me aside, although he accepted that we could not marry di catenas.”

  Thinking of her own courtship, Alayna said nothing. At the time, she had not thought to question why Gwynn wanted her without dowry or powerful family connections.

  “Lady Renata persuaded him that, having given his heart to me, he was no longer free to make a marriage offer to any other woman,” Kyria continued. “She’s a most formidable woman. I believe she spoke so passionately because of her personal experience. She and Edric’s father, Donal, were not permitted to wed because their families wanted to use their marriages for political alliances. She didn’t openly tell Edric to not make her mistake, but that was what she meant.” Her lips curved into a fond smile. “She also promised that we need not fear the Rockraven Gift running in both our bloodlines. She was trained as a monitor, so she detected the presence of twins and advised us to consult the healers at Hali Tower to be absolutely certain all was well.”

  Alayna wondered how her own life might have turned out if she’d had such expert care. Jerana had done her best, but with tragic results. There was nothing to be done now, except to go on. Returning to her sister’s story, she said, “With such a prospective mother-in-law, I am astonished you are not yet married. Doesn’t she object to her grandsons being illegitimate?”