We sat, looking out over the village and the sea beyond. He stretched, and his arm brushed mine. I closed my eyes.
“Garth, we need to talk about Tice.”
He pulled away slightly. “I had hoped to make redress, if I could.”
“You can,” I said, gently.
“How? She died hating me. She would have killed me, that night, had you let her.” Overhead, a lark hovered, singing.
“She hated you, Garth,” I began, and stopped. “No, she hated Kirthan because he had been the tool with which she shaped a future different than the one she had thought she wanted. But she was a grown woman, Garth, and free to choose. She hated you because she thought you would never have to accept the consequences of an afternoon’s pleasure.” I picked a dried grass stem from beside the rock, weaving it between my fingers. “That afternoon meant exile for her, and one other. She bore you a son.”
I heard his sharp intake of breath. I played with the grass for a moment more before looking up. He stared blindly out to sea, tears on his cheeks. I knelt beside him, holding him while we both wept, for the betrayals, and the lost, and at the cruelty and joy of hope.
Finally, he sat up, brushing the back of his hand over his eyes. “Where is he?”
“His name is Valle. He is being raised in the slave quarters of Jedd’s retirement farm. Tice said there was no other choice for a son with no father to claim him.”
“I had left the message for Dern high in the rafters of the barn,” Garth said, his eyes distant, remembering. “When I found her there, climbing the rafters to amuse herself while she waited to see Jedd’s accountsman about some wine business, I was afraid she would find the message. So, I set about distracting her. It went further than either of us meant it to, I suppose. I gave no thought to a child.”
“And Valle?”
“I will claim him, as soon as I am able. But who will raise him?”
“Tice’s mother, or sister, or aunt—a woman of Karst, anyhow. You will need to speak with the council there.” I hesitated. “After Skua comes and the prisoners are dealt with, I will leave Tirvan to find Maya. We could ride together for a while.”
“I’d like to have some time with you, Lena. But I don’t know what Dern will say.”
“Nor do I,” I said, “but he is a compassionate man.” We walked again, in silence, each lost in our own thoughts. A light breeze rippled the grasses. I could hear the distant calling of sheep in the high pasture. I slipped my hand into his. He stopped for a moment, smiling down at me. We followed a path that led into a small grove of trees. In the shade of the branches, I stopped. “Garth,” I said softly. He turned toward me. I put my hand up to his face, to the shape of Maya’s face under his skin. “I love your sister, and nothing can change that. But she isn’t here, and you and I are, and we are both in need of comfort. We could be that for each other, for a while.” He smiled, slowly.
“Are you sure?” he whispered. I nodded. He brought his lips to my hand, and I heard his breath catch. I stepped closer. We stood like that, drawing warmth and strength and life from each other, until I felt desire rise and moved my mouth to find his. He tasted of blackberries, of earth and water and sun distilled into sweetness, the taste of harvest and celebration, and of the end of all the summers of childhood.
PART II
If the past is not to bind us, where can duty lie?
George Eliot
Chapter Thirteen
I slid the last folded shirt inside the saddlebag, buckling it closed, my fingers stiff in the morning cold. I checked the bedroll, tied behind the saddle on my sturdy Han mare. Beside me, Garth and Casyn did the same. The horses snorted and stamped, their warm breath steaming in the frosty air.
A crowd had gathered to see us leave. I caught my mother’s eye. She smiled back at me. I had said my private good-byes, to her and to my sister, and Tali, earlier. I waved to Freya, and to Pel and Sarr, watching our departure in sulky silence.
I swung up into the saddle. My horse moved restlessly, eager to get warm on this cold morning. Garth mounted, steadying Tasque with hands and voice. Dern and Casyn exchanged some last words and embraced before Casyn turned to mount Siannon. Then he raised his hand, in salute and farewell, and we started up the path.
We rode slowly, letting the horses pick their way up the narrow, stony track. Hoarfrost whitened the ground as we climbed higher. A grouse, already half-moulted into its white winter plumage, rose from the heather beside the track. At the top of the ridge, we stopped. Below us lay the village, the smoke from the hearths hanging over the houses. Ahead of us, still out of sight, ran the paved road. The thought of it brought a tightness to my throat. I looked down at the village. It already looked so small beneath us. I swallowed.
“Come, Lena,” Garth said after a minute. “You won’t forget.” I turned my horse to ride east, further into the hills.
Ten days before, in the early afternoon, I had gone in search of my mother. I found her, alone, hanging herbs from the beams of the kitchen.
“Lena,” she greeted me from the top step of a short ladder. “Can you give me a hand? Kira has taken a salve to Ranni for the baby, and this is easier with two.”
“Of course,” I said. The bundles of fresh herbs lay on the table, already tied. I began to hand them up to her. “I wanted to talk to you.”
“What about?” my mother asked, her eyes on the job.
“The men should be back soon, right?”
“I believe so.”
“Once they’ve come, and we no longer need to guard the prisoners, I’m going to look for Maya.”
She said nothing immediately, but her hands stopped tying the herbs. Then she looked down. “I thought you might,” she said. “Leave those for now,” she added, indicating the herbs. She climbed down the ladder to put her arms around me. I leaned into her. She smelled of lavender, as she always had. She held me tight for several heartbeats, then gently stepped back. She put out a hand to stroke my hair. “When I bore you, and Kira afterwards, I remember being thankful you were both girls, so that I wouldn’t have to say goodbye,” she said. My throat tightened. She smiled. “You will need money and warm clothes, and maps. And what about camping supplies, and food? Have you made a list?”
I laughed, relieved that she wouldn’t try to dissuade me. “Not yet. Let’s get these herbs hung, and I’ll tell you my plans as we work. You hand them up to me. I’m taller than you, anyhow,” I said. I climbed up a couple of steps of the ladder, taking the bunch she handed me, tying it to one of the many small hooks that lined the beam. “I will ride,” I said. “Dian and Rasa will sell me one of their horses. They have a little mare I like. I can buy her if Dessa will lease Dovekie from me for a year.” I glanced down to take another bunch of herbs.
“She might,” my mother said. “But even if you find Maya, she cannot come back for three years, remember.”
“I know.” I had my own thoughts on that, but they weren’t ones I wished to share yet, not with the council, or even with my mother. “I’ll give myself a year to find her. If I don’t, I’ll come home. If she wants, Freya can fish with me. Her apprenticeship will be done by then.” I had lain awake last night, listening to Garth’s soft breathing beside me, thinking this out.
“And if you do find her? What then?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I can’t make those plans now. I can only plan the looking.” I tied the next bunch, knotting the string with a sharp tug. I reached down for another bunch.
“That’s all of them,” my mother said. “There is something else you could do, Lena, on the road.”
I climbed down the ladder. “What’s that?”
“Ride to Karst,” she said gently, “to tell them of Tice’s death. Exile or no, she has family there, and they should know. I had thought to send a letter, next Festival, or even to ride out to the first inn to send word from there. But it is news that would be better given by someone who knew her and knew how she died.”
I did not wa
nt to do this, but I knew my mother spoke the truth. I had a responsibility. “But what if Maya went north, towards the Wall?”
She considered. “You’ll only know that by asking at the inns, so ride south first. If at the first inn, they have no news of Maya, leave a letter there, to be taken to Karst. The first inn is no more than a day’s ride, or so I am told. But I hope she went south, Lena. It will be winter soon.”
An hour later, I walked down to Dessa’s workshop. The doors stood open to the afternoon sun, revealing Freya and Dessa planing planks for a new hull. Two of the village boats had burned with the catboat; it would take much of the winter to replace them. The smell of freshly shaven wood made the air pleasantly spicy. The women looked up at my footsteps.
“Hello, Lena,” Dessa said quietly. She spoke and moved with less confidence now, and I thought her hair had greyed. But she worked, and directed her apprentices, and came to council. Lara, Siane’s daughter, watched from a corner of the workshop.
“Did you want me?” Freya asked, straightening.
I hesitated. “Yes, but if you’re busy—”
“I can spare her,” Dessa said.
“I came to see if you would like to go sailing with me. Not to fish, just to go out on the water.” I wanted to talk to her away from the village and other ears. Beyond that, a general restlessness made me want to take Dovekie out.
“I’d like that. Let me get some warmer clothes, and I’ll meet you at the wharf.”
We sailed south, something I rarely did, keeping the coastline in sight. For a while, we said little. Seabirds followed us, and clouds scudded along the horizon.
“How is your arm?”
“Healing well,” Freya said. “It’s not bothering me much.” She rolled up her sleeve to show me. I saw new skin, pink, shiny, and slightly puckered at the edges. “It’s still a bit tender, but I can work. I have to rub salve into it several times a day to keep the new skin from tearing.”
“Good.”
“Kira says you kept it from being much worse by putting my arm in the stream.” Freya said. “I don’t believe I’ve thanked you.”
I shrugged. “It seemed the right thing to do. I’m glad it helped.”
“Dessa thinks I’ll be able to fish without problems in the spring.”
“How is she?”
Freya sighed. “She’s quiet, as you saw, and subdued. She doesn’t talk about Siane much, except to Lara. And she works all the time.”
“And Lara?”
“I worry about her,” Freya admitted. “She cries often, and she doesn’t like to be out of Dessa’s sight. I wonder if she’s afraid Dessa will disappear, too, or if she thinks she needs to take care of her.”
The breeze blew Freya’s hair back off her face. She looked older, I thought, no longer a girl. “Probably a bit of both,” I suggested, steering with my knee against the tiller, feeling the currents of wind and water against the boat.
“What will happen to us, Lena?”
“What do you mean?”
“Tirvan. All the villages. Can we go back to the same rules, the same way of living?”
I adjusted the tiller to slow a bit. “Do you want to? I guess I haven’t thought about it too much. I’ve been thinking about finding Maya.”
“But that’s part of it. The old rules say three years must pass before she can return. Do you think that’s right?”
I had considered this. If the Emperor could change the rules for deserters, why could not the village council change the rules for exiles? If—when—I found Maya, I planned to bring her back to Tirvan to make this argument at council.
“No,” I admitted.
“What does your mother say?”
“We haven’t talked about it. But I’m leaving to find Maya, as soon as I can.”
“You really are going, then?”
“Yes. Do you think Dessa would lease Dovekie from me for a year?”
“As I said, all she does is work,” Freya answered. “She got those hulls started before anyone else had even begun to think about it. I think she’ll do it.”
“Good,” I said. “I’ll talk to her in the morning.”
Freya started to answer, but an unexpected gust of wind caught the sail, and her attention went to the lines. I looked up to see if her arm constrained her, if she needed my help, but that thought vanished. Far out on the ocean, beyond the calmer waters of the coastal coves, I saw the triple sails of a large boat. Skua.
We turned Dovekie around, running her back to the harbour on the strong off-shore breeze. Skua could not be seen yet around the southern headland. We docked and tied Dovekie quickly. Freya ran to find the council leaders. I went to find Garth.
He had saddled the smallest of our hill ponies for Pel and Sarr. They rode on leading reins in a circle around him on the common, learning to balance with only knees and thighs. The riding lessons had begun a week ago. Garth needed something to do, and the boys shadowed him constantly. Dian had suggested it. Both boys, in the normal course of events, should have gone with their fathers, or their father’s proxy, after autumn Festival this year, but Festival would not happen now.
He saw me coming and said something to the boys. He gathered in the leading reins to bring the ponies to him. I reached the common and stood waiting while he unclipped the long reins from the head collars and slipped on the bridles.
“Ride up to and around the hill fields,” he said to the boys, “then return the ponies to the barn. Rub them down well. Check their hooves and clean the tack. I will inspect both ponies and tack later, and I expect to find both spotless. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” they chorused, and rode away.
“Skua is coming.” I said. “She’ll be here in a couple of hours at the most.”
His dark eyes widened slightly. He took a deep breath. “So, I will learn my fate.”
“It can’t be bad,” I argued, as I had more than once before. “Gille will speak for you, and Tali. All of us will. Pel would have died without you. You have done what Dern asked of you.”
“I hope you are right.”
I wanted to put my arms around him, but I couldn’t, not here in the sight of the village. He slept at his mother’s house, as did I. Only Tali and my mother truly knew that the second bed in Pel’s room went mostly unused. What others assumed, seeing the time we spent together, I did not know, nor did I care.
“You will tell them about Valle?”
He sighed. “I will, when the time is right,” he said, glancing up at the hills. “I need to see that Pel and Sarr have got the ponies back safely, and return this harness. Will you walk up to the barn with me?”
I glanced at the sun. “I can’t. I’m on guard duty soon, and my blades and leathers are at the house. Perhaps at supper?”
“Perhaps,” he said. “We’ll see what the tide brings.” We separated; I walked across the common to Tali’s house, where I put on my leather boots and jerkin and strapped on my sword. The secca I slipped into its boot sheath. In the days since their capture, the prisoners had given us no trouble. They remained chained inside the meeting hall, loosely enough to allow them to stretch out on their pallets and sit in some comfort to eat. We guarded them around the clock, eight women, one always a Cohort-Leader, six hours in the watch, escorting them to and from the privies, bringing food and water. Mostly, we fought off boredom. Skua’s arrival meant the end of this duty. The prisoners would become the soldiers’ responsibility.
Walking up the hill to the meeting hall, I stopped to look westward out over the sea. I could just see Skua now, her sails catching the afternoon light. I wondered who else had seen her. I met Tali on the path, bringing two men back from the privies.
“Ah, Lena, good,” she said. “I wanted to talk to you, and you’re late.”
“Am I? I’m sorry, Tali. There is news.”
She raised her eyebrows. We shackled the men on the porch, then walked a distance away. “Look,” I said, indicating where with a tilt of my head.
<
br /> Tali looked. “Skua! Does Garth know?”
“That’s why I’m late. I went to find him. Freya and I saw her when we were out sailing. Freya went to tell the council leaders.”
A shout came from the porch, followed by a babble of Lestian voices. “You had best tell Kolmas,” Tali advised. “Send for help if the prisoners are too restive. I’ll see if Grainne or Dian can send another couple of horsewomen over.”
I found Kolmas inside, standing at the full length of his chains. “What is happening?” he demanded.
I held up a hand. “A minute.” I said. To the other guards in the room, I said “Skua’s back. She should make the cove in an hour or so. I’ve told Tali. We’ll have help if we need it.”
“Will Casyn be on her?” Aline asked from across the room.
“I don’t know.” I turned to the catboat’s captain. “Tell your men to be quiet.”
When the hall no longer rang with voices, I spoke.
“Skua will make our cove within the hour. She and her men were here for many weeks in the summer, helping us prepare to defend Tirvan. Her captain is called Dern. We have been waiting for them to return, to hand you and your men over. You will be their prisoners, now.”
Kolmas licked his lips. “I have heard of this boat and captain,” he said. “But I heard the general Casyn’s name, too.”
“He may be on board. He sailed away from here on Skua and planned to return. Tell your men.”
He pitched his voice to be heard throughout the hall and onto the porch. The hall once again filled with voices, their tones questioning and sharp. Kolmas answered firmly. Slowly, the men quieted, dropping into conversation with their neighbours.
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