Inside, apprentices showed us to rooms, bringing hot water and hot drinks. I collapsed on the bed, not caring that I made the quilt wet. I held the mug of tea in my hands letting the warmth seep through. I want to go home, I thought. I want the baths, and the sea, and to be alone.
Some time later, washed and warmed and in dry clothes, I came down to the common room where a fire burned in the hearth. Rain slashed at the windows.
Two women playing a game—not xache—at the fireside looked up as I came towards the fire. “A nasty day,” one said. “I’m Karlii, and this is Sherron. We’re from Ballin.” Karlii looked about my age, dark and not tall. Sherron bore her a strong resemblance: a sister, or cousin.
“Lena from Tirvan, heading for Karst.” I included my destination to try to head off the now-usual reaction to the mention of my village. I didn’t want to talk about Maya. Sherron’s face lit up.
“I have a sister in Karst. She went to learn to be a wine-maker. Will you pass my greetings on to Hilar of Ballin, and tell her that I am well, and Karlii, and that we ride to Han?”
“I will,” I said, “if you will take my greetings to Han, to Grainne of Tirvan, who travelled there after the fighting, and to Rasa and Dian. Tell them I am well, and that Clio is as good a horse as they promised. What takes you there?”
“Sad news. The women who rode to assist us were both killed in the fighting.”
I nodded, feeling a pang of grief for Rasa and Dian. “I ride for the same reason,” I said. “Our potter was from Karst. She was killed under my command.” No one spoke.
Finally, Sherron shook her head. “There must be many of us on the roads, riding to bring sorrow.”
“Or reassurance,” Karlii said. “We’ve met one or two women who were going home to see how their families fared, and to show that they were unharmed. We carry messages of safety, too, to send north. We should resurrect the old messenger’s guild,” she said, smiling, but not, I thought, entirely in jest.
“You like the road?”
“I like not herding cows,” Karlii said, making a face.
Sherron laughed. “And I like not making cheese, at least for a while,” she said. “That’s what we do in Ballin: herd cows, breed cows, milk cows, and make cheese and butter to send to Casilla. I’m a cheese-maker, and generally I like doing so. Karlii chose to be with the animals. The dairy was too confining for her.” She smiled at Karlii.
“I thought about apprenticing to the herds and hunt,” I said, “but for us it’s mostly sheep, and days up on the hills watching for foxes and eagles after the lambs. I liked that part, but I hate sheep, so I apprenticed to the boats instead and learned to fish.”
“Boats!” Karlii said. “On the sea?”
I nodded.
“I’ve never seen the sea,” she said longingly.
“I had never seen the grasslands, nor the grape fields, nor Casilla. But I will.”
Sherron pushed the draughts board to one side, pointing to the wooden settle. “Shall we sit?” She took a pewter mug from the mantle behind her, pouring me a drink from the jug on the table. I sipped: ale, rich and smooth.
“Thank you.” I sat on the bench with one leg tucked under me.
“I have been to Casilla,” Sherron said, “to sell cheeses. It’s a day’s travel from Ballin in the cart. I’m not a good trader, so I only went the once. It was an adventure for a young apprentice, I tell you, travelling the roads, staying at an inn, going to the market. I’d never seen so many people, women and men, in one place.”
“Women and men?” I asked. “Was it Festival?”
Sherron shook her head. “No. Casilla is divided into two parts: the women’s town and the Empire’s quays and barracks and training grounds. The market is in the women’s town, but the quartermasters and cooks from the barracks come to buy provisions and supplies. They purchased most of our hard cheeses.”
“In Tirvan, we saw men only at Festival, but I remember, Tice—our potter from Karst—saying that they traded regularly with the retirement farms.”
“You had men living with you in your village all this past summer, didn’t you?”
“Yes. And I travelled south with men. But once the messages have been carried, we will return home. The men are even now returning to their regiments and companies. I have wondered whether life would return to normal.”
“I don’t want it to,” Karlii said passionately. “No one asks each generation if they want to live by the rules of Partition. We must abide by the rules or leave. But even in leaving, we’re only trading one village for another, and the rules stay the same. What if I want only to live with one man and bear his children and keep both sons and daughters by my side to raise?” In the firelight, I could see the glint of tears in her eyes. From behind the kitchen door, I heard Garth’s voice, and then a woman’s sudden laugh.
“My partner chose exile,” I said, suddenly irritated, “because she did not want change. To her, the rules were sacred, and in choosing to fight, our village betrayed her. How can we make a world where both you and she are satisfied?”
“I doubt we can,” Sherron said. Karlii said nothing. I looked from one to the other.
“But we must try.” I took a deep swallow of the ale. “Perhaps,” I said quietly, “it’s time for a new assembly.” Karlii’s eyes glinted again in the firelight, but now it was with challenge and interest. “Take that thought north with you,” I said, “to Han, and the inns along the way. Speak it quietly and only to women. If enough of us want it, the Emperor must listen.”
“Do you really think it’s possible?” Karlii asked, hope flickering in her eyes.
“I do,” I said, realizing I meant it. “But be subtle, Karlii. Not all women agree.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “I believe that.”
The next morning dawned sunny, and the ice and snow melted before we had finished breakfast. Sherrin gave me a letter for her sister. I tucked it into my saddlebag then we walked out to the stable together. I introduced them to Garth, who had brought Tasque out onto the cobble to saddle. I tacked up Clio while Sherrin and Karlii did the same with their ponies. The four of us rode out of the courtyard together before taking our leave.
Sherrin turned her pony’s head north. “Good luck,” she said. “Don’t forget that letter.”
“I won’t. Be careful on the road.”
Garth raised a hand in salute, and we turned south.
“Good company?” Garth asked. He had not joined us in the common room.
“They ride to Han, with the same sort of news as I carry to Karst—two dead.”
“A difficult duty,” he acknowledged. We rode slowly, letting the horses’ muscles warm.
“They will speak of a new assembly on their ride north.”
“I left you alone last night, in part, because your conversation looked fruitful. My presence would have ended any discussion along those lines.”
“What were the other reasons?”
“I thought it would look wrong. I need to behave with propriety, now. There are many officers on the road.”
He spoke the truth, yet it rankled. The world had changed. Why couldn’t we all change with it?
“I suppose,” I said, urging Clio forward into a trot.
A few hours later, we came to the end of the grasslands. Soon after leaving the inn, we had seen the land change: outcrops of rocks and patches of marsh became more common, and the grasses grew thinner and shorter. The large rolls of land broke into small hills with shrubby growth in their folds. Broad-leaved plants appeared beside the road. We saw our first trees—oaks, but different from the ones at home. Their pointed leaves hung brown and desiccated. Intermixed with the oaks, we saw other trees, leafless. Under the trees, among the dried leaves, sparse grasses grew.
We came to a track leading east. It had rained recently, and hoof prints pocked the mud of the unpaved road: shod horses, and large. I remembered what Casyn had said on our first day out from Tirvan, of the Emperor’s camp at t
he transition between grasslands and grape fields.
“A hunting party, perhaps,” Garth speculated. “Or riders bearing provisions from Karst or Casilla. Those horses were heavily laden and walking. I wouldn’t be surprised to meet the like in the miles between here and Karst, and I think the inn tonight will be busy.” He caught my look. We had stayed away from inns when the weather was good. “We are done with camping, Lena. The inn we will reach tonight is the last on the road south. After that, farms and villages provide for travellers. Tomorrow, we ride to Karst.”
I nodded silently. Our time together, as more than companions on the road, had run out. Tomorrow, we would pick up the threads of our separate lives: he to claim Valle, I to pass my sad tidings to Tice’s family and council. From there, Garth would ride to Casilla and Skua, and I would go—where? I had spoken privately to the innkeeper the previous night. Maya had not stopped there. Nor had Karlii and Sherron seen her at Ballin. If no one at Karst knew of her, I would ride on with Garth to Casilla, but we would be no more than companions on the road. I thought of Karlii and her fierce love for her soldier. Sherron had told me later that he had been one of the men sent to Ballin to train the women. He had left under orders immediately after the battle, but reluctantly. His attachment to Karlii was as strong as hers to him.
I held out my hand to him. He took it.
“I’ll miss you,” I said. We had become lovers out of grief and loneliness, for comfort, but for me, at least, it had become more. Tali had been right. “I love you, Garth.”
“And I you,” he said, smiling. “I will never forget our time together.” He tightened his grip on my hand, briefly, before releasing it. He leaned forward in his saddle to kiss me. I returned the kiss.
“You have no doubts about Maya?”
“Of course I have doubts,” I said, impatiently. “She’s planned a whole future in this village of hers, one that I can’t be part of. I don’t know what she’s thinking, but I have to find her.”
“And if she says, ‘Go away’?”
“Then at least I will know.” I did not voice the thought that slid unbidden into my mind: then I can go home.
An hour later, we met a hunting party riding north. The packhorses carried deer carcasses, gutted and bled. We reined to a halt. As Garth rode forward to speak with the leader, I waited, letting Clio relax. Garth pulled his papers from his saddlebags, offering them to the other man, who shook his head. He gestured to me, and I rode forward. The older man’s tunic bore the insignia of a captain.
“Captain,” I said. “I am Lena, from Tirvan.”
“Martin,” he said, offering his hand, “from the twelfth. That’s a good Han pony you’re riding—a good choice for a long ride. I know who you are. I was in Casilla a week past, and Captain Dern asked me to look out for you on the road. You’ve taken good care of his horse, Watch-Commander.”
“Did Dern have news for us?” I asked.
“No, just asked me to look out for you. He told me you both acquitted yourselves very well in the fighting. Did you meet anyone else on the road?”
“We rode with General Casyn,” Garth answered, “and met the Majors Bren and Turlo. They joined us, but left us at the grasslands road.”
“They hadn’t arrived when I left for Casilla two weeks back,” Martin said. “I’ll be glad to see Turlo. He always brightens up a camp.” He glanced up at the sun. “We must ride. I’ll let General Casyn know I’ve seen you. Good luck to you both.”
“Sir,” Garth said, formally, saluting.
We allowed the laden pack animals and the rest of the hunting party to pass. Garth watched them for a minute.
“I wonder what Dern told him.”
“About you?”
“Yes.” He urged Tasque back to the road, and I fell in beside him.
“Well,” I said, trying to be practical, “he must have said something of what you did. Otherwise, where have you been for the last five years?”
“Turlo told me to look men in the eye, answer civilly, and never lose my temper. There have been rumours about him all his life. His red hair tells of his northern blood, and he probably has been sent to spy north of the wall because of it, which makes his loyalties suspect to some.”
“Turlo is well-loved,” I said. “You heard what Martin said just then.”
“Yes, but Turlo is known. I’m an unknown young officer with a questionable past.”
“As Turlo was once, too,” I argued. “It will be all right, Garth. You have the trust of Casyn, and by extension the Emperor. That must count for something.”
“I suppose,” he said, falling silent. He looked troubled. I too felt uneasy, disturbed by our earlier conversation and the thoughts it had engendered. I craved solitude, not the crowds and conversations tonight’s inn promised.
The inn was indeed bustling. Our horses shared a box stall, and the apprentice showed me to a room in which two people had already stowed their coats and saddlebags. The beds, a washstand, and some hooks on the wall comprised all the furnishings, save the rush matting on the floor. The apprentice brought hot water so I could wash. I was drying my hands when the door opened and two women came in. We smiled hello. After retrieving something from a saddlebag, they left again. I ran a comb through my hair. It needed cutting. I put the comb away to go down to the common room.
Only women occupied the tables and benches. The men had a separate room. Here in the south, where villages and farms crowded closer together, and with regular traffic on the road between Casilla and the Emperor’s camp, custom kept men and women apart. Voices and bodies filled the room. I went to the serving bar to order ale and food. When it came, I paid, then made my way to an empty place at the far end of a table. My roommates sat at the opposite end. They each raised a hand in greeting but made no effort to include me in the conversation. I ate my stew, listening.
I heard talk of crops and herds, of a good year for wine, of births and deaths. Women bet on a dice game at a table behind me, and someone played a stringed instrument of some kind in the far corner, quietly and without accompaniment. I thought of the map Casyn had drawn for me, trying to picture this inn. As far as I could remember, it sat at the hub of several roads, leading out to a semi-circle of villages—Ballin, Karst, two or three others. When I finished my food, I turned slightly to watch the dice game behind me. It seemed friendly, with much laughter and joking. One of the women looked up. “D’you want to join us?”
I shook my head. “I’ve never played. May I just watch?”
“Sure,” she answered. “But where are you from, that you’ve never thrown the dice?”
“Tirvan.”
“Well, isn’t that something. I go my whole life without meeting anyone from Tirvan, and then I meet two women in a month. It’s a long trip south. What brings you here?”
“I have business in Karst. This other woman from Tirvan, was her name Maya?” My voice sounded odd to my ears.
“That sounds right. What’s your business in Karst, if you don’t mind me asking? That’s where I live. I’m Daria,” she added, extending her hand to me. She was middle aged, dark-skinned like Tice, with greying, cropped hair. As we shook, I tried to order my thoughts.
“I must take my message to the head of the council.”
“That’s Anya,” she said. She gave me a long look. “It’ll be bad news, then.” She closed her eyes, briefly. “I hadn’t heard of any of us going so far north. I won’t press you, child. I’ll know soon enough.”
“Please, when did you see Maya? And where?”
Daria stood, handing the dice to another player. “Keep my spot warm,” she said, sliding onto the bench across from me. “A couple of weeks back, in Torrey. It’s a village to the west where the river broadens out into marshland.” I remembered that Danel, Freya’s love, had come from Torrey. “They weave baskets there, and we buy them to hold the grapes at harvest. I’d ridden over to place an order for next year.”
“Do you think she’s still there?”
She shook her head. “I know she’s not. We travelled a bit together the next day, but it’s hard to ride to the pace of a group walking, so I left them after a while. She was going to see the Emperor. She said she wants her own village, she and her friends. Did you know?”
“Yes,” I said. Going to see the Emperor. I realized Daria had asked me a question. “Sorry. What did you say?”
“D’you agree with her? About the village?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can’t see what harm it would do, myself,” Daria said. She stood up. “You ride to Karst tomorrow?” I nodded. “I’ve another day’s business here, but I’ll be there the following day. It’s about four hours in the saddle if you’re easy on the horse. Look for the bell tower and the hall. That’s where most will be around mid-day, sharing a meal. Now,” she called to her fellow dicer, “hand them over.” She returned to her game.
I sat, feeling tears prick my eyes. Gradually, my thoughts cleared. Tomorrow I would ride to Karst to deliver my news. I would stay one night, then ride north again. If the weather held, and I pushed Clio, I could be there in two days, three nights. I had to tell Garth.
“Daria,” I said, urgency in my voice. She looked up. “I need to speak to one of the men. I don’t know what is done here.”
She gestured toward the serving bar with her head. “Tell Fryth who you need to speak to, and she’ll get him. There’s a room between the two common rooms where you can talk,”
“Thanks,” I said. I crossed the room and caught Fryth’s eye. “I need to speak with Watch-Commander Garth. Could you fetch him?”
“Aye, that I will. Wait in there.” She pointed to a space opening from the servery. The door that adjoined the men’s common room was closed. A bench stood against one wall, but I could not sit. I paced the small space until Garth entered.
Empire's Legacy- The Complete Trilogy Page 27