“Where are you going?”
“I'm supposed to be meeting with R'shiel and the Defenders and I'm already late.”
“Well don't try blaming your tardiness on me.”
“I wouldn't dream of it, my dear.”
“And stop calling me that! I am not your dear.”
His only answer was more laughter as he ducked through the entrance. Adrina flopped back onto the pallet angrily. When she left Cratyn, she swore she would never allow herself to be forced into marriage again; swore she would never allow a man that much control over her. She had made that promise to herself last autumn.
The winter wasn't even over and she had broken it already.
* * *
When there was still no sign of Mikel or Tamylan an hour later, Adrina gave up waiting and dressed herself, determined to give both her slave and her page a piece of her mind. Did they think that now she was married, that absolved them of their duties?
There was going to have to be a few things cleared up before too much longer, she decided. Her status, for one thing. She was a Princess in her own right, more royal than Damin in fact, who was merely the nephew of a Prince. Her father was a King. Of course, being a woman was something of a hindrance to her claim to the throne, although there were many who would be anxious to lay claim to any son that she might bear.
Except R'shiel. The demon child was impatient and had been raised in a society where women ruled. She had no time for Adrina to bear a son and raise him to manhood. She wanted to unite Hythria and Fardohnya and she wanted to do it now. She did not care about the patriarchal traditions of Fardohnya, any more than she cared whether or not Adrina wanted to marry Damin. Their union would force peace on the two southern nations and that was the only thing the demon child cared about. It did not seem to concern her that more than likely, when they reached Greenharbour, the other Warlords would hire assassins to kill either Adrina, or Damin, or both of them.
Hablet's rage on learning of her marriage did not bear thinking about.
On the other hand, if the demon child's ambitious plan succeeded, Adrina would know more power than she had ever imagined. As she thought about that possibility, Adrina began to wonder if she was going about this the wrong way. Damin seemed, if not exactly fond of her, then at least anxious to share her bed. And even Adrina was willing to admit that after a lifetime of paid court'esa and the pathetic attempts of her last husband to consummate their marriage, Damin was a pleasant change. Too pleasant, in fact. Once they reached Hythria, she would insist on her own quarters and make sure they could be locked, she decided firmly. If she couldn't keep him out of her bed by willpower alone, then perhaps a physical barrier would help.
That raised another uncomfortable thought. She had fled Karien with little more than the clothes on her back. The herbs she kept hidden in her trunk were still back in Karien and she had fallen into bed with Damin Wolfblade in a moment of blind and foolish weakness. She had done nothing since then to prevent conception and in the confusion of their escape, had lost track of the days since her last moon-time.
She would have to speak to Tamylan. Regardless of what the demon child wanted, Adrina had no intention of bringing a child into this world who could be used as a political pawn.
* * *
When Adrina finally emerged from her tent it was to discover the whole camp in turmoil. Everywhere she looked the Defenders were pulling down tents and hurrying to and fro, shouting orders and packing up their gear, obviously determined to demolish their campsite as quickly as possible. The Defenders ignored her in the confusion as she wandered through the camp, sidestepping men and piled up equipment. When she finally reached the officers' mess tent, one of the few not in danger of imminent destruction, she poked her head inside. The cooks were busy preparing lunch and paid her no attention until she addressed them directly. Even then, she had to ask twice.
“Where is Lord Wolfblade?”
The closest cook looked up and shrugged. The man beside him jerked his head in a generally northward direction. “He went off with the heathens. One of them is leaving, I think.”
The heathens, presumably, were Brak and R'shiel. She did not bother to thank the man, but followed his directions until she reached the edge of the camp. She spied Damin with Brak, then R'shiel and young Mikel, of all people, some fifty paces away. She had opened her mouth to call out to them when a remarkable thing happened.
One minute they were standing there talking, the next they were surrounded by little grey demons who seemed to pop out of thin air. There were too many to count and they clustered around Brak, vying for his attention like small children visiting with a favoured uncle. Mikel backed away from them warily, but the adults did not seem in the least concerned. Brak squatted down and spoke to one of the demons, who listened intently with big, liquid black eyes. The little creature nodded, then waddled a small distance away. Without any signal that Adrina could see, the other demons suddenly turned and ran to join the one Brak had spoken to.
Adrina blinked as the demons clustered around their leader and began to dissolve. That was the only word Adrina could think of to describe what was happening. They seemed to become fluid, as one by one they flowed together until the towering form of a dragon took shape, with metallic green scales and delicate, silver-tipped wings that glittered under the sullen sky.
When the dragon was complete, Brak reached up and scratched the bony ridge over its plate-sized eyes. With a final word to R'shiel he climbed onto the back of the magnificent beast. With a couple of powerful beats of its massive wings, the dragon was airborne, banking slowly to the left as it headed south.
Damin turned then and saw her.
“Brak asked me to say goodbye,” he told her when he reached the place where she was standing, open-mouthed, as she watched the dragon dwindle into the distance.
“That was... astonishing...” she managed to say.
“Well, let's hope your father is just as impressed,” R'shiel added as she and Mikel came up beside them.
“A dragon landing in the courtyard of the Summer Palace should get his attention,” Adrina agreed with a faint smile. Then she turned to Mikel. Even the sight of the stunning demon-melded dragon had not made her forget the boy had been lax in his duties. “Where have you been, child? Lord Wolfblade sent you to get my breakfast.”
“I —” Mikel began, but R'shiel came to his defence.
“I asked him to help me with something,” she explained. “You might have to find yourself another page for a while, Adrina.”
R'shiel took Mikel's hand and walked back towards the camp, leaving Adrina wide-eyed and more than a little put out.
“Did you have a hand in this?” she demanded of Damin.
He shrugged and looked almost as puzzled as she was. “It's the first I've heard of it. But it's not a bad idea. I'm going to have enough trouble explaining away a Fardohnyan bride when we get to Hythria, without having a Karien page to worry about.”
“I can't just abandon the child!” she protested.
“Isn't that what you were planning to do with him when you first crossed the border?”
She glared at him, annoyed that he was right, even more annoyed that he had guessed her intentions. “It's not the same thing.”
“Of course not,” he agreed drily.
“Don't you dare take that tone with me!”
“Then don't treat me like a fool,” he retorted. “Are you still hungry? You've missed breakfast, but I'm sure we could prevail upon the cooks for an early lunch.”
“I will not be patronised like a small child!”
“Stop looking for a fight, Adrina. Did you want to eat or not?”
Adrina was about to explode with fury when her stomach rumbled complainingly. Damin heard it clearly and laughed at her. “I'll take that as a yes. Come on, you'll fight better on a full stomach.”
“This is intolerable! I am not going to spend the rest of my life having you laugh at me.”
Damin's amusement faded and he looked at her closely. “Then drop this spoiled Princess act. There doesn't seem much point any more.”
“It's not an act!”
“The hell it isn't.”
“You don't know the first thing about me.”
“Don't I?”
“No!”
“Shall I tell you what I do know about you, Adrina?” he asked, suddenly more serious than she had ever seen him. “You were smart enough to keep the Karien Crown Prince out of your bed so you couldn't conceive an heir. You ordered your troops to surrender rather than see them slaughtered. You rode as hard as I ever pushed my own men without a complaint, because you knew your life depended on it.
“You are not who you pretend to be, Adrina, and it defies logic that you keep on pretending you are a fool. You're an intelligent woman, yet you insist on hiding it behind tantrums and childish, idiotic demands. I don't know why you do it. Perhaps it's because you grew up in a court where a smart woman was a dangerous one. The truth is, I don't really care. But if you want to survive as High Princess of Hythria, then you'd better learn to use that brain of yours for something other than causing mischief.”
His words stunned her into silence. She had no answer, could think of nothing to say. Never for a moment had she suspected that Damin's suspicion and mistrust was based on how clever he thought she was.
He waited for a moment, expecting her to retort with some sarcastic rejoinder. If her silence amused him, he did not let it show.
“Come on,” he said finally. “I missed breakfast too.”
CHAPTER 5
Mikel had to run to keep up with R'shiel's long-legged stride. Although she had him by the hand, she paid him no further attention as they wound through the chaotic camp. With his free hand he wiped his nose, which was tingling in the brisk wind. He was still too much in awe of the demon-melded dragon he had just witnessed to be concerned where R'shiel might be taking him.
The order to break camp had only been issued a few hours ago, but already most of the tents were packed, only the larger infirmary and mess tents and those belonging to the senior officers remained standing. The Defenders were keen to be gone from this place and anxious to avoid the approaching Kariens. Mikel had seen enough to understand that it was not fear of the Kariens that prompted the Medalonians' haste, but that they wanted to avoid the inconvenience of taking even more prisoners.
Mikel's entire system of beliefs had been stretched beyond credulity in the past few weeks. First Princess Adrina had betrayed the Prince. Then Prince Cratyn had proved to be as callous and vicious as any other man in his desire to murder his wife for her treachery. His own brother Jaymes had joined the Hythrun and his best friend Dace had turned out to be the God of Thieves. Then, with hardly any objections, Adrina had married Lord Wolfblade.
And now the fabled demon child had commandeered his services. This tall, impatient young woman whom demons followed around like puppies and whom everyone treated with a great deal of trepidation.
“My Lady?”
“Yes?”
“What did you want me to do?”
R'shiel stopped suddenly and smiled down at him. “I want you to help me with something, Mikel. Something magic.”
“Is it going to get me into trouble?”
The demon child laughed softly. “I have to convince the Kariens they want to go home, and that means turning even the priests from the Overlord's path for a time. Are you afraid?”
Mikel frowned. “I don't think so. I've turned from my God. I let you kill my Prince. I've honoured the God of Thieves. I don't think I'm much of anything, any more.”
R'shiel placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Mikel, I think you'll find that you are far more worthy than you imagine.”
Mikel wanted to believe her. She was the demon child, after all. Perhaps she knew things he did not. But it seemed unlikely.
“If you say so, my Lady.”
R'shiel smiled again but did not answer for a time.
When she spoke again, her question took him completely by surprise. “Mikel, who did the Kariens follow before Xaphista came along?”
“The priests said they worshipped false gods,” he told her, “just as Hythria and Fardohnya still do.”
“Yes, but there must have been one that was predominant. Zegarnald has a pretty firm grip on Hythria and Jelanna seems to be the most popular goddess in Fardohnya.”
“The only one I ever heard of was Leylanan,” Mikel replied after a moment's thought.
“What is he the god of?”
“She, not he. Leylanan was the Goddess of the River.”
“I thought that was Maera?” R'shiel said.
“Leylanan was the Goddess of the Ironbrook River. Maybe Maera is the Goddess of the Glass River.”
R'shiel was silent for a moment then shook her head. “No, she won't do. I need someone else.”
Mikel wasn't sure he understood, or even if R'shiel was addressing him. She sounded as if she was simply thinking aloud.
“Do you really think you can turn the priests from the Overlord, my Lady?”
“I have to.”
Mikel had the impression that once set on an idea, R'shiel was determined to make it happen. He had no idea what she was planning, and certainly no idea what his role would be.
“Lord Laetho used to say that you've more chance of making a Karien dance a heathen jig naked in the moonlight than you have of turning him from his God,” he offered helpfully.
“Maybe I should call on the God of Music, then,” R'shiel grumbled, obviously not pleased that things were not going according to plan.
“Do the Harshini have a God of Music?” he asked curiously.
“Gimlorie is the God of Music, Mikel, and he is as insubstantial and ephemeral as music itself. When I was in Sanctuary, the Harshini would call on him sometimes. His song is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard. It touches men's souls...”
Mikel stared at R'shiel as a slow, devious smile crept over her face. “Music of any kind is frowned upon in Karien, my Lady. It's a sin,” Mikel added.
R'shiel looked down at him and smiled. “Not any more, it isn't.”
She grabbed his hand suddenly and led him away from the direction of the infirmary tent, leaving him even more confused.
“My Lady?” he ventured, as he hurried along beside her through the organised chaos that was all that was left of the Defenders' camp. It seemed as if most of it had vanished into the supply wagons while they were talking.
“You don't have to keep calling me that, Mikel. My name is R'shiel.”
“It wouldn't be proper, my Lady. Where are we going?”
“We're going to summon the God of Music, Mikel.”
“Why?”
R'shiel looked down at him and smiled reassuringly. “He's going to teach you how to sing.”
Mikel didn't know whether to be frightened by R'shiel or not. She had never done him any harm; in fact she had virtually ignored him up until this morning, when she suddenly decided she needed him for some yet-to-be-revealed task. She was all but dragging him towards the tents where the Hythrun Raiders were accommodated.
“Almodavar!”
The savage-looking Hythrun turned at the sound of her voice.
“Divine One?”
“Please don't call me that. Where is Mikel's brother?”
“Young Jaymes? Down with the horses helping Nercher if he knows what's good for him,” the captain replied. “Has he done something I should know about?”
“No. But I'd like to see him. Can you send him to me?”
The captain nodded and turned to give the order to fetch Jaymes. Mikel glanced at R'shiel curiously.
“What do you want with Jaymes, my Lady?”
“You're going to learn a song, Mikel. Jaymes is going to be there to make sure you don't get lost in it.”
“I see,” Mikel said, nodding sagely, although in truth he understood nothing at all.
CHAPTER 6
By early afternoon, the Defenders were ready to move out. That morning, the camp had been the size of a small town. Now there was nothing left but a large area of trampled grass to mark their passing. He knew they had been setting up and pulling down the camp each day while they travelled north from the Citadel. The late Lord Setenton enjoyed his creature comforts and would have it no other way, but in the two weeks they had spent camped on the plain they had settled in so comfortably, Damin found it hard to believe they could dismantle it all with such speed.
His own Raiders took less time to organise, but they were fewer and had been travelling much more lightly than the Defenders. Almodavar had had them ready to leave hours ago. What kept them here now were the Kariens.
His men formed a mounted ring around the captured knights, bows strung, arrows at the ready, waiting for one of them to break. Damin didn't know why they were holding the Kariens here while the Defenders went on ahead, and a part of him was afraid to ask. He knew as well as anyone the dilemma these prisoners posed. That the Defenders were leaving them behind did not augur well for their future.
Karien they might be, but Damin held no personal grudge against them. They all seemed woefully young and inexperienced to him. The oldest of them could not have been more than twenty. He prayed fervently that R'shiel did not expect him to slaughter these children in cold blood.
“What are we waiting for?”
Adrina rode up beside him with her slave close behind. She was wrapped in a warm cloak against the cold and looked anxious to get moving. She had been remarkably quiet since their conversation on the edge of the camp this morning. That worried Damin a little. She was undoubtedly plotting something and it probably involved him and a lot of blood. He should have kept his big mouth shut.
“We're waiting for R'shiel, I think. And for the Defenders to move out.”
“Where is the demon child, anyway?”
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