“I do not tolerate dark magic either,” said Calliande. “Neither does Lord Ridmark. You need not fear that from us.”
“I do not, and neither does my husband,” said Adrastea. “That said, if you can make a public gesture of support for him, that would go a long way to ensuring peace in Aenesium.”
“We cleared the urvaalgs and the abscondamni from Cathair Valwyn in his name,” said Calliande. “I cannot think of a…”
Then she understood.
Anger blazed through her, and she set down her tea cup, taking a moment to make sure that she was calm when she spoke.
“A gesture,” said Calliande, “such as Ridmark taking Lady Kalussa as a concubine.”
“Such an alliance,” said Adrastea, “would go a long way towards supporting King Hektor.”
“Permit me to guess,” said Calliande. “Ridmark refused when King Hektor asked the first time, so the King sent you to change my mind.”
Adrastea shook her head. “My husband has no idea I invited you here, or what I intended to discuss. Hektor was rather charmed by Lord Ridmark’s refusal and his devotion to you. He thought it gallant, but he is something of a romantic, I’m afraid.”
“And you are not,” said Calliande.
“No.” Adrastea took another sip of tea and set down her cup. “I’m afraid I don’t have that luxury. Not for myself, and not for my children. If I want them to grow up in a realm free of tyrants like the Confessor and King Justin, then I must look at the world without preconceptions. And if Lord Ridmark is bound to King Hektor through a concubinage alliance, that will make both their positions far stronger.”
“Then why not ask Ridmark that?” said Calliande. “Why tell me this?”
“Because you are the reason he refused Hektor,” said Adrastea.
“Since I am Ridmark’s wife, I would hope so,” said Calliande.
“I think it would be best,” said Adrastea, “if you could persuade Lord Ridmark otherwise.”
“And I don’t,” said Calliande, fighting to keep her temper under control.
“May I speak bluntly, Lady Calliande?” said Adrastea.
“You said you would speak to me without artifice,” said Calliande. “Well, get on with it.”
Adrastea nodded again. She looked calm, if sad. “I know why this idea upsets you so.”
“The idea of sharing my husband with another woman? Yes, it does upset me, a great deal,” said Calliande. “It should upset me.”
“I’m afraid the real reason it upsets you,” said Adrastea, “is that you bore a child who died after a difficult pregnancy, and you are no longer able to lie with Lord Ridmark without intolerable pain.”
Calliande said nothing, anger and sorrow and shame warring for control of her mind and tongue.
“Kalussa told you that, I suppose,” she said at last, “or Tamlin.”
Adrastea shook her head. “Neither Tamlin nor Kalussa told me anything.”
“Then how could you possibly know this?” said Calliande.
“I’ve seen it before,” said Adrastea in a soft voice. “For I have lived it. I’ve lost children, my lady. The children I bore my husband in Cytheria, and an infant of Hektor's and mine who died shortly after birth. I know that sorrow. I see it on your face. I see the tension in Lord Ridmark, the effort he makes to control himself. I am the Queen of Aenesium, and if I am to fulfill my duties, I must read those around me. That is what I read on you, my lady.”
Calliande said nothing.
Adrastea’s guesses were exactly right. She had only tried to sleep with Ridmark once in the last seven months. It had been about two and a half months after Joanna’s death when the grief had been at its blackest. Calliande had been crying, her head resting on Ridmark’s shoulder, his arms around her. Suddenly she had been tired of grief, tired of mourning, and wanted to forget it all. Wine could do that, but drinking to excess only made her dizzy and sick. But there was one other thing that had always been able to make her forget her cares, and she had only ever done that thing with Ridmark.
He had been willing. It had been a long time for him, too. A moment later they had been undressed, but when he had entered her, every muscle from Calliande’s knees to her ribs contracted at once in a single agonizing spasm.
The pain had been excruciating.
Ridmark hadn’t blamed her, hadn’t berated her, had never been anything but kind, and he held her until the spasms stopped and the pain faded. Yet she had been looking into his face as the pain exploded through her and she screamed, and the dismay there had been heartbreaking. He couldn’t bear to inflict pain on her.
They had not tried to lie together since.
But it was Calliande’s fault, wasn’t it? If she had been able to save Joanna, none of this would have happened. If she had not put herself into the long sleep below the Tower of Vigilance for two centuries, perhaps her body would have been better prepared for the rigors of pregnancy and childbirth. Just as Ridmark could not bear to inflict pain on her, so could Calliande not stand to inflict pain on her children, and Joanna’s death was her fault.
Again, she felt her daughter’s final faint heartbeat as the healing spell failed, felt the small form go still in her arms…
“Lady Calliande?”
Calliande’s gaze snapped back up. The dark memories had consumed her with such force that she had forgotten that Adrastea was there.
“I am sorry,” said Adrastea, “to bring such shadows to the forefront of your mind once more.”
“Yet you did anyway,” said Calliande.
“Because I am the Queen of Aenesium,” said Adrastea, “and I must do what is best for my people. And I think you must do what is best for you and Lord Ridmark.”
“By convincing him to take Lady Kalussa as a concubine,” said Calliande, making no effort to disguise her bitterness.
“Yes,” said Adrastea. “Would it not be better? Kalussa would not displace you. As a concubine, she would be subordinate to you. She could lie with Lord Ridmark and spare you from that marital obligation. She also has sufficient magical skill that she would make you a worthy apprentice.” The Queen smiled. “I have to admit, of all of Hektor’s children who are not mine, she is my favorite. She is prickly and proud, yes, but very brave, and she wants so badly to have children of her own. Hektor would never let her marry because Owyllain needs her magic, but she could give Lord Ridmark more children.”
Calliande said nothing, fearing that whatever words came from her lips would cause a permanent breach with the Queen.
“In two nights Hektor is holding a banquet before he departs the city to join the army,” said Adrastea. “If he could announce then that Lord Ridmark would take Lady Kalussa as his concubine, that would go a long way towards…”
Calliande stood. “Thank you for the tea, Queen Adrastea, but I fear I must depart.”
“As you will,” said Adrastea. “I have caused you pain, I know. But this is truly for the best.”
Calliande hesitated. “How many concubines has King Hektor had during your marriage to him?”
Adrastea thought for a moment. The fact that she could not recall off the top of her head was telling. “About fifteen, I think. Several of them died in childbirth, I regret to say.”
“And did you get along with all of them?” said Calliande.
“Most of them,” said Adrastea. “Some of them despised me, of course, but one cannot be universally liked. But I am King Hektor’s wife and Queen of Aenesium, not them. To be a concubine is an honorable position, but not as honorable as a wife. You will still be Lord Ridmark’s wife, not his concubine.”
“I cannot live like that,” said Calliande.
“I thought that myself when I was young,” said Adrastea. “I know better now. Please, think upon what I have said. Arion will show you out.”
Calliande left without another word. She walked in silence as Arion led her through the gates of the Palace, and she gazed at the Agora of Connmar, at the statues and the mar
ket stalls and the people buying and selling.
A wave of anger rolled through Calliande, as fierce as any rage she had ever known. Suddenly she hated this miserable place and its people, hated their customs and laws. Could they not see how cruel their practice of concubinage was, how it debased the relationship between husband and wife? And they wanted to bring it into Calliande’s family? She would make them…
Calliande closed her eyes and forced herself back to calm.
She looked over the Agora once more and sighed.
It wasn’t their fault. Calliande had seen what the strains of centuries of war had done to Owyllain. No matter where she went in Aenesium, there were at least twice as many women as men. Kalussa preferred becoming a concubine to her current life, and Calliande supposed many of the other women of Owyllain felt the same way.
Calliande didn’t, though. She never would.
Suddenly she wanted to talk to Ridmark, to see him again.
Calliande set off for Tamlin’s domus.
###
Tamlin lay in the bed and stared at the ceiling, a woman sleeping on her side next to him.
The bed was softer than he would have preferred, but then it wasn’t his bed. It belonged to the sleeping woman next to him. So did the bedroom and the entire building. Irene owned one of the largest inns in Aenesium and operated it with her three children. Her husband had died fighting the Confessor, and Irene preferred a life of independent widowhood, leaving behind a prosperous inn for her sons when they came of age.
Of course, Irene might have been a widow, but she still had needs, and Tamlin was more than happy to satisfy those needs.
Come to think of it…
He rolled over and kissed her gently until she awoke. Her eyes went wide, and her warm arms coiled around him.
After they lay upon their backs, Irene’s head resting on his shoulder.
“Will you spend the night, Sir Tamlin?” said Irene.
“Depends,” murmured Tamlin. “Will you charge me?”
Irene let out a wicked little laugh. “Perhaps I already have.” Her mirth faded. “But do you need to attend to the Shield Knight and the Keeper?”
“No,” said Tamlin. “Truth be told, I think they’ll enjoy some time to themselves. Michael and the saurtyri can look after them.” And, no doubt, Calliande would immediately guess what Tamlin had been doing. He wasn’t in the mood for a lecture.
“Well, stay here as long as you like,” said Irene. She sat up, rose, and stretched with a yawn. Now that was a pleasant sight – for a woman who had borne three children, she was still quite fit, no doubt from the constant work of running the inn. “But I’ll have patrons wanting food and drink soon enough, and I need to attend to them.” She gave him an arch look. “Some of us have to earn our livings, my lord Thunderbolt.”
“You could always sell the inn and come work for me,” said Tamlin.
“Bah,” said Irene, though she grinned as she dressed. “I know what sort of work you would have in mind, Tamlin Thunderbolt. I like my inn, and I don’t wish to compete with all your other women.”
She finished dressing and slipped out of her room, and Tamlin fell asleep.
And in his sleep, Tamlin dreamed.
He had seen this place in his dreams before.
He stood in a vast chamber, large enough to hold the Ring of Blood in Urd Maelwyn. A huge dome of white stone rose overhead, crumbling in places, shafts of light stabbing into the vast stone room. Weeds rose between the white flagstones, and the walls were marked with elaborate reliefs. A circular well filled perhaps a third of the round floor, and Tamlin took care not to look into it.
Within that well, he feared, was a storm that would consume the world.
He turned, and his eyes fell on the reliefs lining the round wall. Recognition flickered through him. The reliefs were the same style of the ones he had seen in the galleries of Cathair Valwyn, carved with the same kind of characters. Was this vast domed chamber another ruin of the gray elves?
Tamlin turned once more and saw the Dark Lady waiting for him in her usual tattered cloak and clothes of wool and leather, the carved staff in her left hand.
“Now that you have quite exhausted yourself with your friend the innkeeper,” said Dark Lady, “perhaps you will be able to turn your mind to more serious matters.”
“You disapprove?” said Tamlin. “I keep telling you that if you appeared unclad in these dreams, I would pay attention far more closely.”
She looked caught between amusement and disgust. “So soon after the innkeeper? I think you flatter yourself.”
“One would imagine dreams are not constrained by the limits of the flesh,” said Tamlin.
“Lay side the lusts of that flesh, Tamlin Thunderbolt,” said the Dark Lady, her bantering manner vanishing. “Once more danger comes for you. You did well when the green glass broke.”
“The abscondamni,” said Tamlin. “They came for Ridmark and Calliande?”
“They did,” said the Dark Lady. “The enemy wished to test the strength of the Shield Knight and the Keeper and received a sharper lesson than they would have liked. So now they prepare again, with deadlier weapons than the last time.”
“What kind of attack?” said Tamlin.
“Rubies and gold,” said the Dark Lady.
“I don’t understand,” said Tamlin.
“Of course not, because it has not yet happened,” said the Dark Lady. “You have not yet arrived at the proper junction in time. But when you see rubies and gold, just as you saw the green glass shatter, know that death is at hand. Be ready, Tamlin. Keep your sword loose in its scabbard. Because if you are not ready, Aenesium shall be in flames before King Justin even reaches your walls.”
“Wait,” said Tamlin. “Tell me more.”
She didn’t. The dream broke apart into a maze of images. Tamlin fought again in the Ring of Blood in Urd Maelwyn, battling for his life against the gladiators. Again, he felt the whip bite into his back.
“Find me again,” said Tysia as she died. “The New God is coming.”
Suddenly Tamlin stood in the Agora of Connmar as the city burned around him, flames shooting into the sky. A gaunt figure in a red robe glided towards him, dark magic snarling around its withered hands.
“You have found me again,” said Khurazalin, his tone gloating, “and the New God rises. Come and die, fool!”
Tamlin roared and charged at the Maledictus, and he awoke in Irene’s bed, breathing hard and sweating.
It took him a long time to fall asleep again.
***
Chapter 14: Oath
Ridmark missed horses.
He thought on that as he walked back to Tamlin’s domus, the sun dipping below the sky to the west. He had spent the day with Hektor Pendragon as the King inspected the army gathering on the north bank of the River Morwynial. Hektor had thought it prudent to let the gathered hoplites, orcish warriors, and jotunmiri see the Shield Knight, especially as rumors of the battle with the abscondamni spread. Ridmark had enough experience with politics to realize that it was wise to be seen as a confidant of the King, so he agreed.
In Andomhaim, the High King would have ridden as he inspected his army. In Owyllain, every man, whether noble or commoner, fought on foot, and so Hektor had walked through his army. After a long day of that, Ridmark’s feet and knees ached, but that didn't trouble him. It was more annoying that inspecting the army on foot took three times as long as it would have on horseback.
Ridmark wondered how the lack of horses had changed the shape of Owyllain. Perhaps if the High King of Owyllain had been able to field a force of mounted knights, the realm would have defeated the Sovereign long ago. Capable horsemen could tear through footmen like a hammer blow. Maybe so many men of Owyllain would not have perished in battle. Their custom of concubinage might not have developed, and Ridmark would not have to constantly make excuses to keep Kalussa from getting him alone…
He shook his head, annoyed with himself. H
e was tired and in a grim mood, and his thoughts were wandering in odd directions. Too much more and he would start brooding.
Michael met him in the atrium as he returned.
“Welcome back, Lord Ridmark,” said Michael. “I hope the day went well.”
“No one died yet,” said Ridmark. He had seen thousands of hoplites, and he knew that many of them would perish in the weeks to come. “Is Lady Calliande here?”
“She was, my lord, but she went to one of the blacksmith shops,” said Michael. “Evidently one of the apprentices burned himself quite badly, and rumor has begun to spread of the Keeper’s healing magic…”
Ridmark grimaced. “I see.” He regretted that Calliande would have to take the pain of the burns into herself. But she would not turn away anyone she had the power to help.
“She was quite keen to speak with you, my lord,” said Michael. “She met with Queen Adrastea this morning, and it seemed to upset her.”
Ridmark frowned. Just as well Calliande had gone to heal someone, then. Whenever she had a dark mood, work always seemed to clear her mind. “Well, I’m staying here until the morning. I’ll talk with her when she returns. Are my sons still awake?”
“In the courtyard,” said Michael. “Kyralion is showing them archery.”
Ridmark nodded. “Is Lady Kalussa here?”
“She went to the Palace,” said Michael.
“Good,” said Ridmark. Michael smiled at that. Likely the old man knew all about Ridmark’s problem with Kalussa. At least Hektor had not raised the topic again. Likely he had realized Ridmark would react badly.
He retreated to his room, sighing in relief as he removed his armor, though he kept Oathshield on his belt. Ridmark then spent the next hour with his sons, listening to them tell him about their day. He was relieved that they were both faring well. Should the next few weeks not end in disaster, Gareth would become a page at the Palace, learning more about arms from the King’s master-at-arms.
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