The Nature of a Curse (Volume 2 of the Year of the Red Door)

by William Timothy Murray

  The anger and frustration in her voice was clear, and Ullin felt justly chastised for his absence.

  "My word is my honor," he said. "I will see you to the Free City of Kajarahn. I felt you would be safe here while I scouted some movement in the shadows outside. I am sorry it took me so long, and for your anxiety."

  She softened her stance a little, obviously relieved that he had returned.

  "I have no hold upon you," she said. "You owe me nothing. Not even an apology. My life is yours twice over, and so it is I who am in debt to you. Please forgive me."

  "There is nothing to forgive, and my apology stands," Ullin said emphatically. "I should not have left you for so long. Perhaps you will feel better when I show you this."

  He held out his hand from under his cloak to show her a posy made all of the same kind of flower, but all of different colors. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open at the sight. In disbelief, she stepped closer and carefully took them from him, glancing back and forth from the flowers to Ullin's grinning face.

  "Cronosis! Some newly bloomed!" she uttered. "Surely you are a magician!"

  "Hardly. This place is not as dead as you may think."

  "But these only grow where there is ample moisture."

  "Then come with me, and I will show you where that moisture is, along with more like these."

  • • •

  So it was that as the dawn began to mark the eastern horizon with its glow, Ullin took her through the silent ruins, picking his unfamiliar way carefully and giving his hand to hers to help her through and over the difficult tumbles of stone. By the time they reached the little hole in the wall, the air was filled with an alluring scent, and the night was rapidly retreating into the west. Ullin, smiling, motioned for her to go first. She hesitated, shifting her gear, then got down on her hands and knees to peer into the tunnel. She glanced back at him as he crouched, making ready to follow. Satisfied that this was no trick, she squeezed in on her stomach and crawled through. He waited for a moment to give her a little distance, then pressed in after her. It was a little more difficult for him than for her, owing to his broader frame, but he had already passed through twice and knew that he could do it again. Still, it was a struggle, and the tightness of the space was not at all to his liking. But he was too excited to mind the discomfort, and he was soon emerging beside his companion who was still on her knees, staring and gaping in awe.

  It had once been a courtyard, surrounded by very high walls that were still remarkably intact. Along the base of each wall were columned porches with arches that supported tiled roofs. These left an open rectangular area about thirty yards long and twenty yards wide. And it was choked with flowers. White, blue, red, and every shade between, yet all of the same form and variety, just about knee high.

  "This is impossible!" she uttered. "These cannot thrive in such a place unless... unless...listen!"

  Ullin nodded. "Over there, against the far wall."

  They got to their feet and carefully stepped through the flowers, wading through the profusion, trying not to crush them. As they approached the far side, they were walking through water that was about an inch deep. Ullin's companion laughed. The dripping sound became louder, coming from the space just ahead under the roof of the opposing porch. Where the arches met the high wall on the underside, water dribbled out between the joints in the stone. It ran down the underside of the lintels and dripped from there to the floor where it pooled several inches deep before running out and into the thick growth beyond. It was not so much that it could not be quickly dried by the thirsty plants and arid air of the open space, but it was steady enough to have created the pool that gently spilled over the outer curb and into the sun. Ullin was every bit as astonished as she, but only shook his head and grinned. She hardly had words, either, and was almost reverent as she looked around. She reached out to let the water fall onto her hand.

  "It is cold!" she uttered softly, and then, cupping both hands, she let it gather and run down her arms as she carefully brought her hands to her lips. Her eyes widened even more as she sipped, then she wiped her hands on her cheeks and turned to Ullin.

  "It is sweetwater!"

  "Sweetwater?"

  "Yes. Not desert water. This is like water from the north. I have tasted northern water before. This is like that."

  "Well, it is clean, if that is what you mean. And it is remarkably cool."

  "Cold!"

  Ullin thought to himself, "Well, I don't know about cold. You probably haven't felt very cold water, before." But he did not say anything, unwilling to spoil the delight that filled her.

  "So," he said instead, "shall we stay here for the day?"

  "Oh, yes! Let's do!"

  They filled their water containers, and themselves, then stripped off their dusty robes down to their breeches and blouses, and dipped their makeshift shemaghs into the water to wash the dust from their faces and necks. This they did on their knees, saying nothing for a long while, as the day brightened into pale blue. During this time, similar thoughts and feelings came to each of the two, for nothing seemed so delicious or as relieving than a simple wash with an old rag and cool clean water. The care with which they dipped the cloth and wiped the skin had an air of meditation as well as revelry. Once, when Ullin took his cool cloth from his face and opened his eyes, he saw her looking at him in such a way that, after they broke eyes from one another, embarrassed them both.

  "Such a mystery!" she said at last.

  Ullin nodded at the pool. "Yes. I wonder at the source. Somewhere behind the wall, obviously."

  "Yes. A mystery." She was looking at him again, searching with her eyes, and not where he gestured. "My name is—"

  "It may not be wise," Ullin interrupted, "for us to share our names."

  She looked a bit startled, then said, "Oh. Of course. You have no reason to trust me."

  Ullin shook his head. "I care little for my own sake. My name is Ullin Saheed Tallin, and I care not who knows it. But I know that you will guard it with your life. No, it is not you but myself that I do not trust."

  Seeing the questioning look on her face, he shifted off his knees and sat with this back against one of the nearby columns.

  "I was captured once. It did not go well for me. Had I known anything at all, I may have told my captors. I was very close to making up anything that might please them when I was rescued."

  "Oh."

  She pushed aside her things and sat as he did across from him.

  "I am sorry that you were abused. Your hatred for us must be very strong."

  Ullin had closed his eyes, but he shook his head.

  "I do not hate anyone. Not anymore."

  "Hm. Then you are different from most."

  She stretched more comfortably and listened to the fall of the water as she looked at Ullin, studying his attractive features. Aside from renegades, she had only seldom seen Northmen. Once, when a group of captured slaves were being pushed and shoved through a marketplace in far-off Tyrsharat, she chanced to pass. They were Northmen, miserable creatures, dirty and depraved. And she was told by her friends that they were without culture or wit, cruel and wicked, and so despised the abundance of their green fields and forests that they made war in the desert for spite. Others she had seen, too, in the Free City of Kajarahn. But they were merchants and moneychangers, allowed by unofficial pacts to trade there so that goods could still be exchanged by the warring lands. As long as the city paid its tribute to the Dragon King, it was tolerated. And the place flourished as well as such a place could that was lawless and decadent. Caravans regularly traveled to and from the city, taking spices and gold northward and precious herbs and textiles southward. Although a Dragonkind prince ruled the city, Men gave counsel to him and oversaw the collection of tributes and taxes. There were few laws, and fewer taboos. Disputes were settled privately, often on the spot, or, just as often, by bribery, or murder. Assassins and spies were everywhere, and no one was safe without the patronage o
f the wealthy or powerful who provided protection and even bodyguards. Rogues were in abundance, too, and renegades sometimes worked their way into the militia of the powerful.

  But this man, she mused, still looking at Ullin, did not seem like any of them. He did not seem petty, or vain, or cruel, or careless. His speech and manner were refined. He was, she concluded, as her father described the Northmen from his own experience, strong and fair, honorable, for the most part, industrious and brave. All these things she wondered about and considered. But what occupied her mind the most at the present moment, was this man's surname. She knew it well from her father's tales. Did her father know it would be him? Did he send her on this mission so that the two would meet? Should she tell the Northman her own name?

  "I have guessed who sent you," Ullin said suddenly, shaking her from her thoughts. His eyes remained closed for a moment, then he looked at her earnestly.

  "But, I assure you, there is only one other living man in all the world who could have made such a guess in the way I have made it, and he is my grandfather. On two previous missions such as this, I have met the owner of that ring." He gestured to the ring she wore, partially wrapped with silver wire to make a man's ring fit a girl's finger. "I knew who he was when, on my first such mission, I saw the ring. But you are the first person I have spoken to about it. My superiors know nothing of it. I can only assume that you are someone very close to him."

  She looked at the ring and nodded, not only in answer to Ullin, but also to the doubts she had just been contemplating.

  "General Gurasa," Ullin said the name.

  "I am his daughter," she stated. "My name is Micerea."

  "Micerea. I am pleased to know you. Something very serious must have caused your father to send his daughter in his stead. On a task fraught with so much danger."

  "My father trained me as well as he could to face such dangers as I might encounter. But, yes, he is ill and has become too frail to make many such journeys."

  "I am sorry."

  "He was never the same after," she hesitated, "after a friend of his was killed. My mother died shortly thereafter, which deepened his maladies."

  "I am sorry to hear that. Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

  "No sisters. My older brothers died when I was very little. But, I should tell you now that my father's friend, the one who was killed, was a Northman. And my father took this ring in remembrance of him. Dalvenpar Tallin was his friend's name."

  "Yes. As I guessed. I know that ring was first given to Dalvenpar by your father when the two were young men. Your father was a guest in our house. That was before I was born. There is a portrait of Dalvenpar, my father, and my aunt in my house. In it, Dalvenpar wears this ring."

  "Then I am relieved, at least, that it was not your father that mine came across on the field of war."

  "No, it was not." Ullin sighed, his brow furrowed as he glanced at Micerea and then away at the rabbit that had taken up near to her, sprawled flat on the cool tile, his eyes closed but his upright ears attentive. "My father died near a place we call Gory Gulch."

  "Oh."

  They were silent for a long while. Although they remained in the shade, the air barely moved, and the powerful heat made the place steamy as the moisture that seeped into it dried and was replenished. Micerea slept, leaning against the wall in the shade of the overhanging balcony, and Ullin watched the rabbit. Or, to be sure, he watched the rabbit's ears, for that was the only hint of the creature protruding over the tops of the flowers. Ullin saw the plants sway as the rabbit nudged through them, grazing as it went, and sometimes a stalk would topple over and disappear, apparently snipped from below.

  "How on earth did you get here?" he mused to himself. And, as if to answer, the rabbit stood on its hind legs and peered over the colorful blossoms back at him, its ears erect, as if making certain that Ullin and Micerea were still nearby, or perhaps wondering why they were here.

  These circumstances, Ullin continued his thoughts, the three of them in this unlikely oasis, this refuge, at the same time, each representing something the other two might scarcely imagine, must happen only rarely in the long course of the world. The rabbit's presence here was no less the result of miracle and adventure than that of Ullin and Micerea. And if Man and Dragonkind escaped the swords and arrows of renegades, the deadly windstorms, and the frying heat of this trek, then so, too, had this creature its own adventures, setbacks, and reasons for arriving here. It was a story Ullin wondered about, but would never guess. Yet it was in Ullin's character, his experience, and his history, to take no circumstance for granted and to assume neither coincidence nor fate as a cause for anything. So he knew enough, at least, to be certain that this meek little creature's story was an extraordinary one. Moreover, and this, too, was peculiar, he felt that each in his company somehow understood that much about the other two, and that made them all kindred spirits, the wee thing no less than the two humans.

  As he mused, his mood changed from curiosity to marvel, as comprehension formed. Indeed, as he realized, if each could know the stories of the others, each would surely be amazed in turn.

  "Providence has brought us together," he thought, silently addressing the rabbit, "and I'll not abandon you here. So, perhaps, we'll see again the woodlands of the north. It is rather a matter of finding our way, isn't it?"

  By now, the rabbit had eaten its fill, and had taken a place on the cool tile. As the day progressed from heat to blaze, it stirred very little, except to drink from the pool before resuming its nap. Ullin shared more of his jawrock with Micerea, and she ate what he offered, giggling at how atrocious it tasted.

  "Too bad we can't eat what he eats," Ullin commented, gesturing at the rabbit and plucking one of the flowers himself to nibble at its stem. "Oh! Bitter!"

  "They will make you ill if you keep that up."

  "What did you say they were called?"

  "We call them 'Cronosis,' " she answered. "I am told the Northmen call them 'semiluna.' "

  "Yes. I have heard of semilunas. They change color after they bloom, is that not so?"

  And thus their conversation moved to lighter, happier subjects. Flowers, gardens, customs, lore, and even music. When night fell, they still talked, and they quickly agreed to stay another night and day. Jawrock was plentiful, and water, too, and neither of them seemed in any hurry to venture back into the open desert, though they both knew full well that they must eventually do so. But, for now, they talked on and on, each strangely happy in the company of the other, and surprisingly alike in their views.

  The cool night did little to dampen the ardor of their talk, even when shivers forced them to don their desert cloaks. When yawns became more frequent, though, and talked lessened unto silence, Ullin offered his arm so that Micerea could nestle against his shoulder for warmth against her shivers. Her body felt good against his, and he pulled his cloak over to cover their legs. After a little while, she shifted and looked up at him. And they kissed. It was a soft, gentle kiss, followed by another, then another. And, soon, the cool air seemed not to matter at all.

  • • •

  Six months later, Micerea was only a half-day's ride from her home, and she was looking forward to seeing her father after so long and reporting to him aspects of her journey. That same day, Ullin's half-dead body was found by a party of Vanaran soldiers who were scouting the mountains along their southwest border. They transported him as quickly as they could to an outpost where his injuries could be tended. The next day, he was taken by litter to the city of Linlally and to an infirmary where he could recover from exposure and exhaustion.

  Gone for nearly a year, his commanders had given him up for lost, risking no rescue to an ill-fated mission. But back he came, bringing with him the secret dispatches he had been sent to fetch. They were dismayed at his condition, injured, feverish, and so weak that he arrived upon a litter.

  When his superiors met to discuss Ullin's mission, they swore they would never again send him on anot
her such errand. One person, who happened to be attending the meeting, suggested the Kingsman might make a good candidate for the King's Post, a Special Courier, perhaps. This was agreed upon, and the man went to see Ullin at the infirmary where he was still recovering from his ordeal. He found the Kingsman sitting on his cot, his head propped on one hand while he fiddled absently with a locket in his other hand.

  "Hullo!" the man said to Ullin. "Do not rise! I wonder if we might have a little chat?"

  Ullin shrugged as the man pulled a stool over and sat, leaning his walking stick against the window sill.

  "You are Ullin Saheed Tallin, are you not?"

  Ullin nodded.

  "My name is Collandoth."

  Chapter 21

  The Bridge at Redwater Gorge

  Ullin saw the opening of the cave, a yellow blot against the hill, and hesitated. Suddenly, he turned and walked toward town, feeling the need for further solitude before facing sleep, and time to gather his composure before facing his companions. Before facing her. His shame was unabated, but he strove against it, reminding himself over and over of his duty. The town was quiet by now, and he passed through it unnoticed, his pace easy but determined, though he had no aim but to walk and walk. Every few turns and stretches, hot tears welled behind his eyes, sometimes trickling out as he thought of Micerea. It was her, not Esildre, that was most in his heart and in his thoughts. Micerea would want him to keep to this task, to honor his commitment to Robby and the others. Although she could know nothing of their quest, his memory of her spoke truly of her loving support. How could he have behaved so? It was a shame upon his love for her, upon the honor he wished to have before her, should he ever see her again.

  "And, if I never do," he thought as he stumbled and nearly fell due to blurred vision, "I will at least be true to my duty, as she would expect of me."

  By following the ways and paths, he circled around the far side of town, and before he knew it, he was on his way back the way he had come. By the time he returned to the cave, it had been hours since he had left the pool, and he knew dawn was not far off. He needed rest and strode on toward the opening, hoping everyone was asleep. But at the entrance were Esildre's two traveling companions, standing watch. He returned their expressionless nods as he passed, and, as he entered, he saw Esildre and Sheila sitting on blankets at the far side of the Foyer near a low-burning lamp, chatting softly with each other. He quickly determined to act as if nothing had happened, and they looked up in mid-laugh and watched him fairly slink to his bedroll. They may as well have been staring at a chipmunk for all their bemused faces told him. Sheila's eyes glittered from across the room, but Esildre wore her veil. Without speaking, Ullin unrolled his bedding and settled down near Ibin and Billy and Robby, all drowsing peacefully.