“I, Garth of Skua, son of Mar of the Seventh and Tali of Tirvan,” he said clearly, “acknowledge this child, Valle, to be mine, borne by Tice of Karst. He will be raised by his aunt, Ianthe of Karst, until he is seven, and then I or my proxies will send for him, to serve the Empire.”
Ianthe stepped forward, smiling up at Valle. “I, Ianthe of Karst, in proxy for my deceased sister Tice, daughter to Tamar of Karst and to Theron of Petrel, recognize that Garth of Skua is father to this child and has acknowledged him. I will raise him to know his father, and his duty to the Empire, and prepare him to serve it.” Her voice caught slightly at Tice’s name, but her words rang clearly in the hall.
“I, Tevian of Karst, witness this.”
“I, Roxine of Karst, Council Leader, witness this.”
“I, Lena of Tirvan, witness this.”
Valle sat on his father’s shoulders, his hands in his hair, looking up at the rafters. I wondered what they had done with him in the slave quarters. He seemed resilient and cheerful. Very likely, they had made a pet of him. What would he make of a world of women for the next four years?
Garth swung him down, keeping a hold of one hand. Ianthe took the other. He looked up at her.
“Hello, Valle. I’m Ianthe. Let’s go eat. Are you hungry?”
We walked to breakfast at Valle’s pace. I walked beside Tevian, trying not to feel left out.
We ate sausages and eggs, and warm biscuits, and figs in honey, as the sun shone through the windows of Anya’s house. Ianthe fed Valle biscuit pieces drenched in honey and gave him a spoon for his scrambled eggs. I watched, smiling. I spoke with the others, feeling myself growing hollower inside, a space the meal could not fill. Finally, I pushed my plate away and stood up.
I had no reason to linger. Garth would stay for a few days. Twice a year, for a week, many sons saw their fathers. Fathers and daughters were almost never united, unless like Maya they had a brother in the same village. Between visits, the boys heard stories of their fathers, of soldiering and the Empire, to prepare them. Garth would come back, if he could, for the next four years, spring and fall. And Ianthe would be here, with his son.
Garth turned my way. “You’re not leaving yet?”
“Not quite. I need to change and pack. I’ll say goodbye before I go.”
I walked the short distance between Anya’s house and Ione’s. In my room, I changed into my riding clothes, found my coat, and packed my saddlebag. In doing so, I found Sherron’s letter to her sister. I had forgotten it. I looked around the house and yard for Ione but could not find her. I would ask Anya to say goodbye for me.
I carried the saddlebag and my coat to the hall, draping them over the paddock fence. Clio trotted over. I rubbed her neck and led her into the stable to tack her up. I worked methodically, focusing only on I what I had to do, and not what came next.
The girth tightened, I swung my saddlebag up and secured it, then strapped my coat behind the saddle. I picked up each of Clio’s feet to check for stones. When I could find no more reason to delay, I opened the paddock gate to lead Clio out. Tasque whickered at her.
“I’m sorry, Tasque,” I said to Dern’s horse with tears pricking my eyes. I will not cry over a horse, I thought. Clio walked obediently behind me as I led her over to Anya’s house. I tied her reins to the porch and went back in, the letter in my hand. Everyone still sat around the table, but Valle now lay stretched across Ianthe’s lap, sleeping. Garth stood up.
“Anya,” I said, “I nearly forgot this. Would you give it to Hilar, who came from Ballin? It’s from her sister.”
“Of course,” Anya said. “Must you go?”
“I must. I, too, have someone to find.” She put out her arms, and I hugged her. I said my goodbyes to the other women, taking one last look at Valle. Then I turned to Garth.
“I’ll come out with you,” he said. We walked out into the sunshine. Clio whickered at him. He held out his arms, and I stepped into them. He wore only a light shirt, and I could feel his muscles and his warmth. He smelled of lavender soap, and his own, so-familiar scent.
We stood like that for several heartbeats before I pulled back. “He’s beautiful, Garth.”
He smiled. “His eyes are like Maya’s. Did you notice?”
“Like yours, too. Take care of yourself.” I hoped he could hear beyond the words.
“And you,” he said. “Tell Maya I’ve never forgotten her,”
“I will.”
“I’ll see you again,” he said, putting out a hand to caress my face. “Perhaps not for a few years, but I will. That’s a promise, Lena.”
I smiled. “If you don’t, I’ll come to find you. Farewell, Garth.”
“Farewell.” He watched as I mounted Clio and turned her head north. We each raised a hand in goodbye.
I pushed my little horse harder than I ever had. We galloped until we reached the end of the grape fields, which forced me to focus on the road, my balance, and nothing else. The cooper called out to me as we galloped past, but I only raised a hand.
At the climb back up into the forest, we slowed. Even then, feeling my urgency, Clio broke into a trot wherever she could. At one switchback, I paused to give her a breather, looking for the first time back down through the trees to the fields below. Beyond the vines, I could see the glint of the sea. Suddenly, I remembered I had told Halle I would speak with her this morning. There was nothing I could do about it now.
When the land flattened again, I kicked Clio back to a canter. We ate up the miles steadily, and gradually I calmed. I forced myself to think of Maya. Jays called at us as we rode through the trees. In the distance, I could see the glimmer of a stream. I slowed Clio. She needed to be cool before she could drink.
When we reached the stream, I allowed Clio a few mouthfuls before I tethered her away from the water. The altitude made it cooler here. I unstrapped my coat from behind the saddle, shrugging it on. I ran my hands up and down Clio’s legs, but found no heat or swelling. Clio pricked her ears and whickered. I looked down the road to see a horse and rider approaching.
“Ho, Lena,” Daria called, dismounting. “I did not expect to see you on the road again so soon. Where’s your companion?” She led her horse to the stream to let him drink.
“He stayed in Karst,” I said. “He’ll ride to Casilla from there in a few days.” I told her briefly what had passed. She said nothing, only raising an eyebrow when I told her Garth was Valle’s father.
“I am sorry,” she said, when I finished. “Both for Tice—I liked her—and for Tamar. She has driven another daughter away with her pride. But the child will do well with Ianthe. I always thought she’d find a reason to break free some day. What about you? You’ll have a cold and dangerous ride to Tirvan, this time of year.”
“I ride to the Emperor’s camp, to find Maya.”
“Why?”
“I left Tirvan to find her.”
She regarded me steadily. “Did you?” she said finally. “But you’ve known about her new village idea for a while. There will be no place there for you, you know.”
I looked away. Daria pulled her horse’s head up, away from the grass he cropped. “Don’t mind me,” she said. “I speak my mind. I’d best be on my way.”
“Will you take a message for me? I was supposed to speak with Halle this morning before I left, and I forgot. Would you tell her that I’m sorry, and it wasn’t intentional?”
“Halle the fisherwoman?” She mounted her horse. “There are two Halles at Karst.”
“I don’t know. Maybe a bit younger than you? She asked about the fighting at Tirvan.”
“That’s her.” Daria snorted. “What did she want? To talk about how to change our lives, now we know how to fight? She’s like your Maya, wants something new, only completely opposite. Halle wants to live among men and be a soldier. She spent too much time with Rolan.” She looked down at me. “I’ll give her your message. Good luck to you.” She raised a hand in farewell and clattered onto the road.
I watched her go, wishing obscurely that she had stayed longer. I had craved solitude, but now that I had it, I wished I didn’t. I took Clio over to the stream. As she drank deeply, I thought about what Daria had said. Maya had made her choice. She wanted a life without me.
As clearly as if she stood beside me, I heard Tali’s voice, speaking to my mother all those months ago when Maya had chosen exile: She said that she would go to look for Garth.
Garth had unknowingly given Maya the idea—and the courage—to choose exile, but she had not found him. I had. I felt suddenly lighter. I laughed, startling Clio, who snorted and sidestepped. I made soothing sounds at her, and she bent her head back to the stream. I would go to the winter camp and ask to see her. I would tell her about Garth, and Valle, and I would say goodbye. And then? Then I would go home.
Riding under the bare limbs of trees, Clio broke into her rolling trot. I let her pick the pace, no longer feeling the urgency of this morning, glad again to be alone. I wondered if I would have a chance to speak with Casyn at the winter camp. I wanted to tell him I had done as he had asked.
From what Daria had said, Halle wanted something even more radical. Had she formed her ideas on her own, or had they been suggested to her? I could not be the only one charged with spreading the idea of change, I realized. Casyn had no way of knowing how far south I would reach in my search for Maya, or what villages I would visit.
The sun had not quite begun its downward arc. I would reach the Four-Ways inn in another hour, I thought, if we maintained our steady pace. I could buy food there and grain for Clio, enough for the ride to the Emperor’s Camp, where I would stay a day or two, let Clio rest, make my reports. The thought of seeing Maya no longer made me anxious now that I knew I did not come to plead with her.
I felt Clio’s shoulder drop and shifted my weight to compensate for the stumble. She slid a bit on the stones of the road, then stopped. I dismounted. She held her near forefoot off the ground.
I ran my hands down her leg, but it seemed sound. Her hoof appeared undamaged, but the shoe hung loosely, and I could see where a nail had worked free. I had checked for stones with half my mind trying not to think of Garth. I could easily have not seen one missing nail.
Cursing, I pulled at the shoe, but I could not remove it. I led Clio a few paces down the road. She showed no sign of injury. I couldn’t ride her, but we could walk. I loosened her girth, swapped the bridle for the head collar, and led her on.
We limped into the courtyard of the inn about two hours later, the loose shoe making an odd rhythm to Clio’s steps. I took her into the stable yard where a very young apprentice came out to meet us.
“Your horse has a loose shoe.”
“I know. Where is your stable-master? I’d like her reshod as quickly as possible.”
“Bad luck,” the girl said. “She’s gone to Casilla to trade for nails and such. She won’t be back for a day or two.” She bent to pick up Clio’s hoof, examining the shoe.
“Is there no one else?” I asked. My boots pinched, and my stomach growled. I had hoped for an hour’s rest and refreshment, while Clio’s shoes were seen to.
“The other apprentice went with her. She could do it, but I can’t. I’m not big enough. Sorry.”
I sighed. “Can you stable her, then, and give her some grain and water? She’s cool enough. We’ve been walking for two hours.” The girl nodded leading Clio away. I turned toward the inn.
I found Fryth at the servery, and the inn busy. She greeted me by name. I asked for food and ale, and for a word with her when the custom slowed. She nodded. I took the meat pie and mug of ale over to a table. I had eaten little at breakfast, and hunger had gnawed at me for the last hour. I wolfed the pie. About half an hour later, Fryth came over.
“You weren’t long at Karst,” she said, sitting opposite me. “How can I help you?”
“How far to the Emperor’s camp, from here?”
“On horse? About ten hours. You’ll not get there today. Better to stay here and start early tomorrow.”
I explained about Clio.
“Ah, I see,” she said. “I expect Alda back the day after tomorrow, but it will likely be late. I’ve beds and stalls enough for you to stay here, though. If you’re short of money, I can always use another pair of hands.”
“It’s not that. I just don’t want to delay. My obligations at the Emperor’s camp will only take a day or two, and then I can ride north. There’s an inn in the grasslands, the first after the highlands, where I can work this winter and be that much closer to home when spring comes.” I had thought this out, walking Clio along the road. Zilde would give me a bed and work, I hoped.
“I see,” Fryth said. “Then you won’t want to dally. The grasslands are no place to be in winter. We’ve had post riders in here who’ve lost fingers and toes to frostbite riding through them.”
“Do you have a horse you would trade me for Clio? She’s a good horse, bred in Han.” I did not want to give up my little mare, but I saw no other choice.
Fryth considered. “I’d rather not. There’s another solution, maybe. I learned my trade at a smaller inn a bit north of here, and I can turn my hand to most things. I can’t shoe your mare, but I think I can take her shoes off. At least the loose one,” she amended. “Then I’ll lend you a horse. You can lead your mare behind you and get her reshod at the Emperor’s Camp. Someone will be riding this way, and they can bring my horse back then. Will that serve?”
“Very much.” I wanted to hug her.
She stood up. “Let’s give it a try.”
Pulling off the loose shoe turned out to be simple. With something to give me leverage, I could have done it myself, on the road. Removing the three others took more skill. The apprentice walked Clio around the stable yard a few times while Fryth and I watched.
“She’ll do, I think,” Fryth said. “You’ve not far to go on stone, as the track out to the camp isn’t paved.” I remembered the hoof prints in the mud. She turned to the apprentice. “Which of our horses will Lena’s tack fit best?”
The girl considered. “Plover. He’s freshly shod. He was going to be ridden to Casilla, but then Alda decided to take Sparrow instead because he can carry more weight. He’s in the paddock. I’ll get him ready.” She handed Clio over to me, running out of the stable yard.
“Chatterbox, that one,” Fryth said, watching her fondly. “She’s my granddaughter. I wanted her to learn to cook, like her mother, but it was horses from when she could walk. Do you need food for the road?”
“Yes. And a bit of grain, if you have it.”
“Grain’s in the bin,” she said. “Take what you need, then we’ll settle up for that and the food.”
Piebald Plover stood half a hand shorter than Clio, with feathering around his hocks. Endurance, not speed, was what this one would give me, but if I had to lead Clio, then it didn’t matter. The apprentice had put my saddle on him, but a different bridle. “He likes this bit better,” she explained.
I thanked her, giving her an extra coin. I swung up onto Plover’s back, and she handed me Clio’s lead rope. I wanted to tie it to the saddle, but she would not let me. “You need to be able to let go of her if something happens. What if a bear attacks you?” I thought it unlikely, but I saw her point. Plover stood calmly. “He won’t kick your mare,” Inge assured me. She patted his neck. “Be good,” she said to the pony. “He likes to be scratched between his ears.”
“I’ll take care of him,” I promised, signalling him to walk. He moved away obediently, Clio following. She had come to Tirvan on a lead rein, I remembered.
We rode north through the afternoon. I discovered Plover had a gentle mouth and an uncomfortable trot. Mostly we walked, though, for Clio, and because I felt suddenly battered with exhaustion. I rode in an almost trance-like state, feeling as if I had left pieces of me behind, in Tirvan, in Karst, on the road, and only a shell straddled the pony beneath me.
I reached the wide track to the c
amp at dusk. The sun had set about half an hour before, and the western sky still glowed a deep pink. The evening star hung over the horizon. I guessed I still had a bit of time to ride until it was too dark to see, and the track looked dry and level. I turned Plover’s head to ride eastward among the trees.
Half an hour later, I had to stop. I could see almost nothing now, and I still had camp to make. I heard water to the left of the track. I dismounted, tying the horses to the nearest tree, then walked in the direction of the sound until I found the stream. A level patch near the stream would do for the tent. I led the horses to the stream; while they drank, I unsaddled Plover and found the bag of grain, pouring half of it out on the ground in two piles. I led Clio to hers and tethered her, then returned to Plover. I took his bridle off, and put on his head-collar, knotted the rope around a branch and left him to eat.
By starlight, I gathered fallen wood and chose a place for a fire. Once it was burning steadily, I found my bread and cheese and ate. Then I sat by the fire, wondering what to do. I still felt this odd sense of being split into many pieces. Despite my exhaustion, I did not think I would sleep. I made tea, sipping it slowly.
Pitching the tent seemed like too much effort. I spread the saddle blanket on the ground, curling up on it with my blanket wrapped around me. The darkness pressed down on me. I had never slept outside alone before. I could hear the stream and the horses’ breathing, and from far off the call of an owl. The wind rustled the dry leaves of the oaks. I drifted into sleep.
I awoke a few hours later, needing to empty my bladder. When I opened my eyes, I could see each tree clearly. The moon had risen, full and bright. I unrolled myself from the blanket, moving a short distance away from my bedding to relieve myself. I could see the horses standing head to tail. Plover raised his head. I thought my movement had awoken him, but he swung his head left and snorted. Clio too looked left. What was out there? I had no weapon. I stayed crouched with my heart beating in my chest, watching the horses. They continued to stare into the night, ears pricked. Whatever they sensed interested them, I decided, but either they did not think it dangerous, or its scent came from some distance away.
Empire's Legacy- The Complete Trilogy Page 30