Serves me right for losing my temper, she told herself. Carefully she began to cut back the areas her warmth-spell covered until it was in force only around her feet, hands, and face. Trying to ignore the increased bite of cold on the rest of her, she plowed back into the wind.
It took five minutes of uphill walking before she realized that the wind had dropped. Halting, she looked up. Drifting snowflakes were all that remained of the blizzard. She slipped up her goggles and turned to look for her tracks. They lay behind her, following an eerily straight line as far as she could see. A cold that wasn’t winter-brought raced up her spine. Her trail should have swung back and forth in the snow. Instead it looked as if she could have drawn it with a straight-edge.
“I don’t know if this is good,” she murmured. “With the wind in my face, at least I knew where I was headed.” Looking again at her tracks, Alanna shrugged and set off again. As her Gift burned lower and lower, staying in motion became a vital concern. Every few feet she’d look back to make sure she kept to her earlier course. Before her opened the pass, white and smooth along the road. Overhead the clouds broke up, revealing a sliver of new moon. The night was very quiet, the only sounds those of shifting snow and cracking rock.
Suddenly she heard in her mind a voice as terrible in its way as the Goddess’s, filled with tumbling boulders and rushing streams. She dropped to her knees with her hands over her ears—it did no good.
So you have come this far. You took your time about it.
Alanna couldn’t reply.
Look to your left.
She obeyed. A line of light stretched up the wall of the pass, over broken rock and pools of snow and ice. The thing you came to take is at the end of this road—as am I.
The voice—it had to be the voice of the being that Mi-chi had called “old Chitral”—was gone. Alanna listened apprehensively for a moment, then remembered the cold’s danger and scrambled to her feet again. Drawing a breath, she turned away from the smooth path, which lay so invitingly before her. She strengthened the spell on her hands and feet, drawing it away from her face and wondering how long her Gift could hold out even now. She was sleepy. A nap would be—
She shook off the cold’s growing spell and made for the slope, stopping only to remove the snowshoes and strap them to her back. Her temper came back with a rush—not at Liam, this time, but at Chitral. “Am I supposed to entertain you?” she yelled, climbing into the rocks. “Where I come from it’s considered honorable to kill a victim outright—not play with her first!”
There was no reply, but she didn’t want one. All she really needed was the heat of her anger. She unhooked the axe from her belt once again, using it to pull herself up.
Her foot broke through a crust in the snow, and she went down, crying out as her leg got stuck between two rocks. Carefully she pulled herself out onto more trustworthy ground, using the ice blade on the axe. When she tried the leg, it throbbed but held.
“Are you enjoying this, Chitral?” No answer. On she climbed.
Within a few feet her staff slid on a hidden bit of ice. She struck the ground with her knees, biting into her lower lip. Alanna grabbed a handful of snow and pressed it against the mask, over her bleeding mouth. Adding another hurt to Chitral’s account, she rose and went on. She knew she got hurt so much now because weariness and agitated nerves interfered with her judgment. The best solution was to stop and rest for half an hour, but she didn’t dare try that. Instead she started to sing “The Tireless Beggar.” She’d finished it and had sung halfway through “The King’s New Lady” when she stumbled into the cave.
Her Gift flickered and died, leaving her with only a trace of its fire. She’d used it up.
Going home will be very interesting, she told herself as she looked around. There was a larger cave behind what seemed to be a small antechamber, and she went into it Chitral’s line of light ended here, in a large chamber with walls that glowed a dim, eerie yellow. At the opposite end was a tunnel.
“All right, Chitral!” she yelled when she’d pulled down her mask. “I’m here!”
Then prepare yourself for combat, came the nerve-shaking reply. You asked for something you can fight. I will oblige you.
The air in the cave was cool, but not cold. She began to strip, preparing herself mentally. She peeled everything down to her woolen layer, leaving the clothing in a pile on the cave floor. Her mind took careful inventory of her physical condition, and she was unhappy with what she found. She’d never taken on a fight in worse shape.
Nothing to it, she thought as she unsheathed Lightning and loosened her arms. Next time I go after something, I hope it’s in a dusty corner where no one sees or cares if I take it. I did ask for this.
Something padded toward her in the tunnel. Moving into the center of the cave, Alanna set herself.
When it came into the light, she understood instantly that Chitral had assumed this form—she couldn’t say how she knew it, but she did. He’d come as one of the great rock-apes that inhabited the Roof of the World. Incredibly shy of people, they were seldom seen, and they never carried short swords as this one did. The blade was black iron and very primitive, but Alanna had no doubt it would do the job intended for it. Oh, gods, she thought as the ape squared off against her, its deepset eyes bright with intelligence. I’m in for it now.
He—it?—swung and chopped, forcing her back. She moved warily, her tired muscles sluggish at first. He jabbed; Alanna countered and thrust, making the ape skip away. Now wasn’t the time for fanciness or art, now was the time to just stay alive. At least the knowledge of a fight sent adrenaline coursing through her body, putting a stop to the tremors of exhaustion. The ape pursued her, hewing with the short sword as if it were an axe.
The long hours with Liam began to show as Alanna automatically dipped, swerved, and twisted. Keeping out of the ape’s reach—he could do as much harm with a hand as he could with his blade—she made him wary of Lightning. Her sword nipped and bit at him, leaving his fur dotted with blood.
Her injured knee buckled, and the ape’s sword scored her from collar to navel, cutting through wool and silk to leave a shallow, bleeding gash. She faltered and lunged in, chopping at the ape’s neck. He roared and smashed back with his unarmed fist, catching her on the elbow. Alanna fell forward and rolled out of the way. Her arm went numb; Lightning dropped from her fingers. Getting up, she staggered back as the ape picked up her sword. He peered at the grey lights shifting under the steel skin.
You did a work of art when you made this. As much as she might want to, she couldn’t react to the pain of his voice in her head, not unless she wanted him to kill her as she covered her ears. She wondered how he even knew Lightning had once been two swords, and that she’d combined them to make one unbroken blade. The ape tossed the sword behind him, where it lay near the far wall of the cave. I suppose you did it only because you wanted a whole sword you could command. Not because the magic was beautiful for its own sake.
It wasn’t true, entirely. He gave her no chance to answer as he attacked.
Alanna couldn’t think, couldn’t worry if her body might give out. She ducked and dodged. When he gave her an opening, she executed one of the jump kicks Liam had taught her, slamming into the ape’s shoulder and making him roar. When he swung to chop her down, she was away and circling. She sought her chance and flew in again, hitting the same shoulder. It was his blade arm that she focused on, kicking every chance she had while keeping out of his range and grip. The fourth time she hit that arm, she kicked lower, into the same muscle he’d hit to make her drop Lightning. The iron sword fell to the cave floor, and Alanna went for it. Her hands closed on the hilt.
Pain seared her hands and arms, locking her muscles together. She screamed, her throat tearing with the cry. It hurt worse than anything she could remember. She held on—she couldn’t let go—and rolled to her back, pointing it at the advancing ape. Crying with the pain, she yelled, “Don’t! I don’t want to kill you! Keep the
Jewel!”
The ape stopped a foot beyond the sword’s point, looking her over curiously. If Alanna didn’t know better, she’d have sworn he smiled. Reaching forward, he plucked the sword from her freely bleeding hands.
You are a funny little thing. His voice hurt much less this time, which puzzled her. He seemed to have changed his mind about killing her.
He didn’t choose to explain. Instead his thought-voice went on. J suppose you have no idea why you are compelled to seek this Jewel.
Alanna cradled her palms against her chest, too tired to rise. “It’s for the glory of Tortall.” Her throat hurt from screaming. “There isn’t a nation existing that can’t profit from the Dominion Jewel. And bringing it home would be to the glory of the knight who brought it. If it’s yours, though, it’s yours. Now that I think of it, I don’t know how the famous heroes of the past were able to take things from the entities that guarded them—not if they were as noble as the stories claim. When you look at it right, it is stealing.”
The ape shook his head, plainly amused. In a hand that was empty a moment ago, he offered a many-faceted purple gem. When she stared at him without moving, he placed it on her chest.
What use have I for a jewel? His outline turned blurry.
“Are you one of the gods?” she asked as he began to fade. Suddenly she had a hundred things she wanted to know from him.
No. I come from before. Your gods are children to my brethren and me.
Alanna could barely see the ape, and the air was getting perceptibly cooler. She scrambled to her feet. “Then who are you?”
I am this place, and these mountains. I suppose you might call me an elemental. Now his voice began to fade.
“How did you come by the Jewel?” She struggled to put on her clothing, trying to ignore the pain in her hands. The Jewel she stuffed into a pocket.
It finds its way to me from time to time. Not often, but now and then. I made it, and I keep it because I like to have company. I shall be entertained by your visit for centuries of human time. You mortals are quite interesting!
She could feel no sense of him at all when she finished dressing, which may have been just as well. She was not sure she liked the idea of being “entertainment” for anyone, elemental or no.
She found her way to the mouth of the cave and looked out, clinging to the rim of the opening. Dawn was coming, and she had no way to return to the inn.
“No wonder he gave me the Jewel,” she muttered, sliding down to sit on the rock floor. “I’m going to die here anyway.” She knew the idea should bother her, but it didn’t. Her eyelids were getting heavy, and she barely noticed the cold. Pulling her cloak over her face, she went to sleep.
She was warm—all of her, not parts. She could smell clean linen and herbal salves. Forcing her eyes open, Alanna wondered how long she’d been out.
“Never again.” Her voice was harsh in her ears. “I won’t spend another winter in the cold.” Her eyes watered as she tried to look around.
“You could’ve fooled me.” The deep rumble was Liam’s voice. “If a man went by the way you act, he’d think you live to freeze!”
She sighed. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. He was slowly coming into focus, and she wasn’t surprised to see that his eyes were pure emerald in color.
“Sorry?” His voice cracked on the word.
“I’m sorry I had to go into a blizzard at all. I wasn’t given a choice, remember?”
“You had your gods-cursed cat witch me!”
Alanna tried to push herself upright and winced: he hands were heavily bandaged and throbbed under the weight she’d put on them. “Ironarm, stop it! Aren’t there times when you act alone?”
“This isn’t the same!”
“Horse dung it isn’t. People like us have to know when to break rules. This was one of those times, and I was right to do it. I am sorry I hurt you. Chitral didn’t leave me much of a choice.”
He walked out without looking at her.
Thayet came in a few minutes later with a pitcher of mulled cider. A maid followed with a tray of food, and Alanna’s stomach growled a welcome. Seeing tearstains on Alanna’s face, Thayet said, “The Dragon will be all right.” She poured a cup of cider and helped Alanna to drink it. “He was worried sick about you. We all were.”
“The Jewel?” Alanna didn’t want to talk about Liam. “Where is it?”
“Under your pillow. Can you manage a spoon?”
Alanna looked at a bowl of porridge dotted with dried fruit and cream. “I’ll manage if it kills me.”
Unfortunately, she couldn’t handle a spoon. Thayet fed her, ignoring Alanna’s protests. “You’ve been asleep almost a week,” the Princess said. “The storm was over when we woke up. You were out there when it stopped?” Alanna nodded.
“There was a tremor of some kind—a little earthquake—just after dawn,” Thayet continued. “When it was over, the pass was clear. The innkeeper and some of the guests ran for a temple at that point, I think. You remember the Doi who were staying here? They went out and brought you down, slung over a pony. They said they found you in front of a cave near the top of the pass. You were a mess.”
“Can I talk to them?” Alanna wanted to know. “Thank them?”
Thayet shook her head. “They’re gone. They left when you started to get better. Buri says they don’t like to be thanked.”
“Did—the healers say how I am?”
Thayet put down the spoon. “You’ll have a scar from your neck to your abdomen, right between your breasts. Your hands will mend. They said you’d do better once you woke up and used your own Gift on them.” Reminded by this, Alanna felt for her magic and found it. Her rest had restored it to full strength. Thayet began to tidy up, saying, “The Doi healer said your hands will always know when it’s going to storm.”
“‘Old swordsmen and their scars know the coming rain,’” Alanna quoted—it was a common saying. “I suppose I had to pay for this somehow.”
“Was it worth the price?”
“I don’t know.” Alanna drew the Jewel from beneath her pillow and looked at it. The gem fit neatly into the center of her palm. “Thayet, do you want this? For Sarain? It seems as if you need it more than Tortall does right now.” She offered it to the Princess, who stepped back with an odd look on her face. The Jewel began to shimmer with an internal light, until Thayet pushed Alanna’s hand away.
“No female can hold the Saren throne.” Her voice was soft. “The Book of Glass forbids it. Children hear tales of other lands, less wise than ours, who came to grief because they let a woman rule. The chiefs of the Hau Ma, the Churi, and the Raadeh are women, but they’re K’mir, and everyone knows the K’mir are savages.”
“Tortall isn’t like the K’mir, but it isn’t that bad, either,” Alanna said. The bitterness in Thayet’s voice hurt.
“All my life I’ve been worthless, the one who should have been a male and an heir. My father was kind, in his way—I take after him in looks.” Thayet rubbed the arch of her nose. “But he never forgot I wasn’t a boy. Every morning the Daughters of the Goddess and the Mithran priests have orders to pray for a jin Wilima in their daybreak services.”
Alanna swallowed. If he’d loved his daughter, how could the Warlord have humiliated her like that? “Thayet, I’m sorry.”
The Princess didn’t hear. “I’ll tell you something else, Lady Knight. In Tortall you lied about your sex and kept it secret for years, but when the truth came out, you were allowed to keep your shield. We heard about you at my father’s court. The majority opinion was that you should be burned, although one group held out for death by torture.” Thayet put the tray beside the door. “I thought Tortall sounded like Paradise. It’s certainly an improvement on my father’s palace or the convents, and it has to be better than what I’ll get if I return to Sarain now.”
“You didn’t have to tell me any of this.” Alanna slid the Jewel beneath her pillow again. “A simple ’no’ would’ve worked.”<
br />
The Princess’s face had been hard and distant. Slowly she brightened. “A ’simple no’?” she repeated, amused. “Alanna, my very dear, you’re an incredibly high-minded person, have you noticed? You take duty and responsibility seriously. If you believed I turned my back on Sarain for a whim or a fit of temper, you’d lose any respect you have for me.” She put a hand on the knight’s shoulder. “Before I met you, I thought the women of our class were useless. Those who go to Shang are commoners. Noble families chain their daughters in their rooms rather than permit them that life. The K’mir have no one of noble blood, only people who earn their honors. But you and I come from over-bred families, good as ornaments and nothing more. And you are far from useless.”
Alanna blushed. “Thayet, you’re flattering me. It was easier for me to rebel than stay and make something of myself. Why didn’t I go to convent school and prove ladies are more than ornaments that way?”
Thayet’s look was skeptical. “What I’m trying to say is that I look forward to creating my own life. In Tortall I can, because I’ll be without rank or title.” She sat on the bed. “I’m going to start a school for the children of commoners. Once I sell my jewels, I’ll have plenty of money to do so.”
Alanna, who had different plans for Thayet, said hastily, “I won’t cast you adrift when we’re there! You’ll be our guest—Thom’s and Myles’s and mine. The school’s a grand idea, but there are ways and ways to start one.”
Thayet shrugged. “Look at me, rattling on when you just woke up.” Firmly, she tucked blankets around Alanna. “Try to sleep some more.” She left, carrying the tray.
Sleep was the last thing Alanna wanted. She’d had a week of it. With an effort she threw off her blankets and stood. Leaning against a bedpost for support, she took inventory: twisted leg—stiff but painless; assorted bruises—fine; gash on her chest and bitten lip—cleanly healed; eyes—teary but working; hands—she didn’t want to think about her hands. Not bad, considering.
She dressed in garments that could be pulled on. Buttons and buckles were more than she could handle. She tucked her feet into slippers and clumsily ran a brush through her hair. Keeping a watch for well-meaning persons who might shoo her back to her room, she escaped to the stables.
Lioness Rampant Page 10