By the time he passed under the eaves of the forest, afternoon was already tilting towards evening. He was grateful for the cool of the slanting shadows and almost wished it would rain a little, enough to settle the dust of the paved military road and wash the dry heat from the air. A pair of rooks hopped out of his path, then returned to whatever they had been squabbling over. A solitary fox eyed him from behind a tree before ambling off about its own affairs. There was a crow cawing lazily somewhere. Aldric yawned and tried to remember what the last yeoman had told him of the forest inns. They locked their doors at nightfall and did not admit guests after dark, that much he did know. A glance at the sky relaxed him; it would be a couple of hours yet before the light failed.
Watching darkness fall from a tavern common-room, Aldric sipped ale and sniffed the savoury aroma of his dinner being prepared. He knew now why he had not encountered any highway robbers on the road; after seeing the tavern's prices, it was clear they had all turned innkeeper. Such places catered for the wealthy mer-chants who travelled towards Erdhaven port, and charged accordingly. Even the third son of one of Alba's foremost clan-lords could not have stayed in such a house. It was wryly amusing therefore that a landless eijo, an enchanter's fosterling, could afford the best room and pay for it in hard coin.
As he ate Aldric became aware of unease among the other patrons; though to the innkeeper one man's silver was as good as another, he, Aldric, was probably not the sort of guest this place liked to attract. The plump merchants and their ladies—by the look of them, "wives" was not the word to use—did not like sharing their dinnertime with an eijo, no matter how young or well-mannered. Aldric was not concerned—although the fat woman who was probably the only merchant's wife in the building annoyed him throughout the meal. Languishing glances and rogueish winks did not go too well with a fine venison pasty. With a thin, sardonic smile he fixed an unwinking stare on the would-be-romantic, toying significantly with his knife all the while.
By the time he had to blink, she and her husband had hurriedly bustled out. Aldric's smile widened fractionally; there were advantages to being eijo after all,
With the heat and the ale and the feeling of being pleasantly full that gave the whole world a rosy glow, the young man decided it was time for bed. He rose, stretched mightily and ambled upstairs to where the room had been shuttered for the night and two lamps set out. The bed looked soft and inviting, so much so that he kicked off his boots and lay down fully dressed, intending to relax for a while before sleeping properly.
That, at least, was his intention. However, once his eyelids had closed, it soon became too much effort to open them again…
Merchants who lodged in an inn such as this paid too highly for their rooms to tolerate nocturnal noises. Floors were thickly carpeted, locks and hinges oiled and silent. Thus it was that Aldric slept on peacefully while his window-shutters were teased open and the window itself slid back. A thin glow of moonlight flowed in, and with it a dark outline which drifted like fog across the floor. The Alban whimpered softly in his sleep and rolled over, making the stealthy intruder freeze where he stood. Only when the youngster was breathing deeply once more did he continue about his furtive business. The same sharp knife which had forced the shutter-catch now sliced saddlebag straps and the lacings on well-filled moneybags too imprudently displayed earlier in the evening. The thief's gloved fingers checked their contents without chinking a single coin, then transferred them to his own belt-pouch before the man retraced his steps and vanished into the night. Lacking in all manners, he did not even close the shutters behind him.
Aldric's eyes flicked open half an hour later to a room streaked skimmed-milk blue by the moonlight pouring through his open window—a window that had been dark and secured when he fell asleep. And a window through which somebody was quietly entering.
He would have grabbed for taiken or telek, except that one was on the rack built into one wall for the purpose, and both of the other were still bolstered in the stable… Instead he made the small noises of restless sleep and gathered his legs under him, sliding the stiletto from his sleeve. The shadowy figure paused warily, watchfully and then bent over his saddlebags.
One hundred and sixty pounds of irritated eijo in the small of the back would inconvenience most people and this burglar was no exception. The pair went down in a tangle of flailing limbs and began an impromptu wrestling match which did nothing for the room's furnishings. What with the uncertain light and the black clothes of both combatants, it was a confused and confusing fight, complicated by the fact that the thief refused to do much except try to escape. Though they were much of a size, Aldric quickly discovered himself to be the stronger of the two. Besides which, there was the stiletto to consider.
A dainty sting under the fellow's masked chin stopped the burglar's wriggling long enough for Aldric to drive one knee down hard, winding his opponent for the second time in a matter of minutes. Taking advantage of the man's helpless gasps for breath to open one of the lamps, Aldric raised it high and wrenched off his victim's mask with the other hand.
Only to discover that he was actually she. "Good gods!" the Alban exclaimed unoriginally, and then let rip with several more interesting swear-words when the girl jerked both knees up into his side and almost threw him over her head. Had those knees struck their intended target, Aldric would have been in no state to prevent her escape and he knew it. That was why he straddled her and sat down hurriedly with his full weight in the pit of her stomach. Her breath came out in a gasp for the third time, and Aldric used the opportunity to make himself more comfortable—then delicately rested his stiletto point in the hollow of her throat as insurance against further attempts on his… person. This gave him the chance to look at his catch more closely:
Fine skin tanned to the colour of honey, electrum-pale blonde hair tied back under a black hood, slightly oblique eyes of a brilliant blue that reminded him of the Echai-non spellstone, a full mouth half-open over white teeth. She was beautiful—-and at the moment very, very angry. "Get off!" she snapped, and even in only two words Aldric noticed a slight, unplaceable accent. "Alban, take that knife away and get off!"
"You're scarcely in a position to make demands," Aldric observed with a smugness he did not really mean. "Now—what did you steal?" The girl spat inaccurately at him. "Listen, you," he rasped, waving the stiletto in front of her eyes, "I'm asking you nicely. The Prefect in Erdhaven won't be so pleasant. What did you steal?"
"Nothing," she retorted eventually. "There was no gold in your saddlebag."
"No?" Aldric's voice was sharp with disbelief. "I'm at liberty to search you unless you…" He cast a thoughtful gaze over the girl's clothing and realised the threat was useless. Her black garments fitted so closely—apart from where they had burst open in the fight—that anything as big as his moneybags would show quite plainly. There was nothing showing at all. The girl saw his face fall, and rather than trying to escape she smiled amiably.
"Your shutters were open, Alban. I doubt if I'm your first visitor tonight." Aldric cursed foully in three languages. "You shouldn't have taken the best room," she pointed out helpfully. "Nor paid for it in gold coins."
Aldric stared at her and almost reluctantly grinned at the irony of it all.
"But I did," he returned flatly. "And much good it did me." He studied the girl more closely, as if realising again how very pretty she was. "Who are you anyway?"
"Alban, if you're going to talk, I'd rather you sat elsewhere—and removed your hand." With sudden embarrassment Aldric jerked his knife hand from between her breasts, having rested it there quite absently the better to keep his stiletto under her chin. The girl closed her shirt and stared up at him levelly. "The second part, Alban. Find a chair."
"Don't try escaping," he warned. "I wouldn't want to—" he thought of various things he would and would not do, then chose the least offensive. "To miss hearing what you're going to tell me," he finished and stood up. Backing away, he turned quickly and
slammed the shutters, but when he looked round the girl had merely risen to a cross-legged seat on the floor. She put her head on one side and fluttered her lashes at him mockingly.
"Convinced of my good intentions, Alban?" Aldric nodded, but slung Widowmaker round his shoulder nonetheless.
"You aren't Alban, of course." It wasn't a question— her accent made one unnecessary. The girl untied her hood and let her hair fall free before answering him.
"I am Kyrin," she said at length. "Tehal Kyrin, Har-ek's daughter, of Tervasdal in Valhol." Aldric was startled; he had expected almost anyone but a Valhollan.
"What in the name of Heaven are you doing here?"
"Trying to collect enough money for passage home again. My uncle's ship was wrecked on your so-well-mapped coastal rocks and no merchant will sail to Valhol without being well paid."
"I'm not surprised," admitted Aldric. Then he grinned maliciously. "But if you'd got to my saddlebags first you could have bought your own vessel. With near enough five hundred marks." Kyrin winced, and said something in her native tongue. It sounded vicious.
"So we're both in the same situation," she muttered despairingly.
"Apparently. And what do we do now?" It was "we" already, he noted sourly; need breeds strange bedfellows. His eyes slid sideways at the thought of bed, then blinked and shifted away. Not so hasty—not with a Val-hollan, anyway.
"We could rob," suggested Kyrin bluntly.
"No. There are limits even for eijin. It would be dishonourable."
"Albans and honour!" the girl flared. "You all think it's your exclusive privilege. Mine was the most honourable of honourless choices—rather a thief than a beggar and a robber than a whore . ."She stared grimly at the big bed. "I am—was—to marry at Spring-Return. It was to bind an alliance of families, so Seorth will have married my sister instead." She shrugged carelessly. "So, and so, and so… but if I had earned my money in bed, who would marry me for any decent reason? Eh?"
Aldric said nothing; indeed, Kyrin wondered if he had even been listening, because there was a thoughtful, faraway look about him. Then he grinned at her and clapped his hands briskly so that she jumped.
"Thanks for reminding me," he said cheerfully. "I can earn something at the Erdhaven Spring-Feast—not much, but enough."
"Earn? At a religious celebration?"
"Not religious—holiday. It's a market festival of some sort; I've never been to it, but I know they hold weapon contests, archery, telek-shooting, horsemanship—and all with prizes of minted silver."
"What about swordplay?" The girl's sharp eyes had noticed a fine taiken racked on the bedroom wall and Aldric's reluctance was plain when he shook his head.
"I daren't try single combat. With people looking for me it's too obvious to risk."
"The people who originally owned that money you lost, honourable eijo?"
Aldric didn't react to the jibe except with a mirthless leer. "Actually, no. But if they catch me and you're nearby, you'll wish yourself far, far away."
"I… see," muttered Kyrin, glad that she did not. Her father had been right all the time—Albans were crazy and this one was crazier than most. She would be well advised to have nothing to do with him; yet travel with this black-clad loon could prove entertaining and maybe profitable as well. "Why do you need the money anyway?"
"I'm taking a sea voyage for the good of my health. Want to come?"
"Why not? It might be interesting." Kyrin wondered then why the young Alban roared with laughter—honest amusement, without sneer or sarcasm. Then he looked at her, still chuckling.
"Oh, I think you'll find it that. Definitely interesting…"
Five
Resurrection
Aldric was too polite to ask where Kyrin's handsome grey gelding had come from, and she was not yet so sure of him that she would have answered anyway. Not that her daytime wear invited questions: thigh-boots of soft doeskin over tight, faded blue breeches, a loose white shirt indifferently fastened, a leather jerkin armoured after a fashion with a layer of chain mail and a lady's cymar—overmantle—flung over all as if to mark her sex. With the complex hilt of a Jouvaine estoc riding at her shoulder and the arm-plates from somebody's battle armour strapped over her sleeves, Tehal Kyrin made a brave show alongside the equally picturesque but rather more sombre Aldric. Neither was the sort of person idly approached by passersby.
There were many such; peasants riding ox-carts or walking in noisy groups, well-heeled merchants in their carriages and those less wealthy jolting in horse-palanquins. Certain elderly kailinin cast disapproving looks at the younger set, fantastically tricked out in the latest fashion of the Imperial court, the Jouvaine city-states or wherever else took their current fancy. Aldric was relieved to notice that in this holiday atmosphere his and Kyrin's attire was dismissed as whimsical fancy dress.
As they came closer to Erdhaven, the crowds increased; judicious eavesdropping revealed that this Feast was rumoured to be the best and biggest for some years. For a man intending to lose himself among the press of people, that was good news. Aldric glanced up at the birds circling above the road; they were attracted by scraps of food, occasional spillages of grain—and one of them maybe by himself.
The scream of a gull cut through the other noises and his eyes went narrow and thoughtful. Was he not being a bit unimaginative watching out only for crows when a seagull would look less out of place near the coast? Reining in, he stared at one big yellow-eyed brute which seemed suspiciously disinterested in the scraps lying under its beak.
"What's the matter, Aldric?" Kyrin had seen the worried look on his face before she saw the gull, and when her eye fell on it she snorted dismissively. "Those pirates! Vicious—but no concern of ours."
"Of yours, maybe," he said softly, easing a telek from its holster. "For myself, I'm not so sure." He cocked the spring-gun and levelled it, taking care to adopt the proper arm's-length posture for contests of skill; with luck he would appear merely to be putting in a little practice. The telek thumped and the gull went down in silence. There was no human shriek of agony, only the reflex spastic flutter of one wing which soon ceased. Ignoring the ironic applause from other travellers, Aldric racked another dart into the weapon and nudged Lyard slowly forward, eyes and telek fixed on the dead bird. Kyrin followed, muttering under her breath in her own language and wondering again why she had bothered to come along with this madman. The eijo dismounted, nudged the corpse with a toe, rolled it over, then finally picked it up and tugged his missile free. Throughout all, it remained a seagull.
"If you don't tell me at once what this exhibition is about. Alban, I'll leave you to playact on your own."
Aldric eyed her for a moment, then dropped the carcass and wiped his fingers on the grass. "If I don't, could you really bear to leave without finding out something?" he asked good-humouredly.
"Don't twist words!"
"All right then, I won't. I'll tell you everything—that you need to know, at least—but not here. When we've found a room and a bed—"
"Beds, Alban. I've warned you already."
"Beds, then. Or privacy at least. But Kyrin-ain,"—the endearment was not accidental, nor was it just to tease her—"Kyrin-ain, I doubt that you'll like what you hear. Playacting has no part in it."
"Whether I like it or not is immaterial. What I do not like is all this secrecy. Why don't you trust me?"
"I do trust you. If I didn't, I… I wouldn't have told you my name. That's the truth."
The girl stared at him for a long time without saying anything, then bowed very slightly. "I believe what you say, Aldric-eijo. And I'll accept anything else you tell me about this business, however little that may be." Then she glanced towards the road and smiled. "Best be on our way if you want to find somewhere to stay for tonight—your small change won't last until tomorrow otherwise."
As they mounted up and cantered towards Erdhaven, neither saw a black crow fluttering heavily from the lower branches of a tree where it had be
en perched. Nor did they notice how it wheeled high into the blue spring sky before flapping with uncrowlike speed towards the north-west.
And the citadel of Dunrath.
Kyrin's guess was close to the truth; they found it almost impossible to obtain rooms and ended up sharing one in a tavern near the harbour. It was better than Aldric had anticipated, but consequently more expensive than he was prepared for. Even after an hour's haggling his meagre funds had been sorely depleted when at last they went upstairs.
"One bed," said the Valhollan in a toneless voice. "Well, at least there's a chair and blankets…" Aldric disliked the implication.
"I paid for this and I'm sleeping in it," he snapped. Kyrin shrugged, dumping her saddlebags before the fireplace as a footstool.
Aldric's irritation evaporated at once. "Kyrin… Kyrin." He met her stare, then gestured at the mattress. "It's easily big enough for half each. To sleep. We'll need rest, both of us. I know that you… that is…" He was getting embarrassed now and angry at himself for being so. Finally he drew a deep breath and released it hissing between clenched teeth, unslung Isileth Wid-owmaker from her travelling-place at his back and laid the sheathed taiken precisely down the centre of the bed. "Half—I promise."
The girl looked at him, head tilted quizzically. "You promise… like that?" Aldric nodded once, fiercely willing her to accept and not make him look foolish. "Very well. I agree… to the arrangement." She almost smiled and kept it to a twitching of her lips; the boy— she was older than he was, almost certainly—could be horribly intense sometimes. "But why that way?"
"It—it seemed right, somehow," Aldric tried to explain awkwardly.
"Sometimes, Alban, I wonder if you're real." There was no mockery in her voice and when Aldric remembered his own feelings about the sword and the horse, he matched the twinkle in her ice-blue eyes with a shy smile of his own. But when Kyrin lifted Widowmaker from the bed only her sex restrained him from harsh words; no warrior ever made so free with another's sword and though physically a woman, the Valhollan's sword made her as much a warrior as any kailin-eir.
The Horse Lord Page 10