Dark Lady_s Chosen cotn-4

by Gail Z. Martin

  Jonmarc and Carina walked back into Dark Haven, closing the heavy door behind them. "Now I have a question," Jonmarc said. "How long does the mourning last?" "Eight days, starting yesterday. Why?"

  In answer, Jonmarc took her in his arms. "I made a vow at Winterstide that we'd make a ritual wedding. And I have no intention of letting little things like a war, the Goddess or the Flow get in the way."

  DAY 14

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Cam of Cairnrach stirred as consciousness returned. His mouth tasted of old vomit, and he doubted he had the strength to lift himself from his bed. When he opened his eyes, it took a moment to recognize the room as his own. He was back inside Aberponte, and he was alive.

  "He's waking up."

  The voice came from somewhere near his left shoulder. Cam managed to turn his head far enough to see Rhistiart's broad grin.

  "Glad to see you, sleepy head," the silversmith teased. "You've given us a right scare."

  Trygve came into Cam's field of view. "Good to have you back with us," the healer said.

  "Get your bearings, and we'll bring up some food. We've managed to get some broth into you, but if you don't eat, you won't keep up your battle weight, that's for sure." Something in Trygve's eyes told Cam that the teasing covered serious concern.

  Cam heard Trygve speak a few muffled words to the guards outside his door. After a while, he heard bootsteps in the hallway and the door swung open again.

  "He's awake? By the Lady! That's good news. Let's see him." King Donelan strode into the room, and Rhistiart scrambled out of the way. Donelan bent over Cam and grinned broadly.

  "Good to see you, m'boy. You've given us all a scare."

  "Good to be here," Cam croaked, his throat dry.

  "Trygve says he's patched you up as best he can," Donelan continued. "But as soon as the roads are passable and you're up to the journey, we'll send you to Dark Haven, where Carina can fix what's left. Do you some good to get away from here for a while, I wager." "What of Alvior?"

  Donelan cursed. "Seems your brother caught wind that my men were on their way. He disappeared across the Northern Sea on a ship with markings no one seems to recognize. Found your younger brother, Renn, locked in the basement. By the look of him, he and Alvior had disagreed." Donelan stroked his beard. "With Alvior a fugitive and wanted for treason, the title and lands would go to you as the next oldest heir." Cam's head spun at the thought of it. "What about Renn?"

  Donelan shrugged. "Everything my men uncovered says he opposed what Alvior was doing, and Alvior nearly killed him for it. He's not the baby brother you left behind. Renn's a grown man, the same age as Tris Drayke. He asked after you and Carina, and he sent this back with the guards for you." Donelan reached into his doublet and withdrew a sealed parchment letter. He laid it on the bed next to Cam.

  "And the divisionists?" It was taking all of Cam's will to maintain the conversation, and from the look on Trygve's face, the healer disapproved.

  "With Ruggs and Leather John dead, the rest folded with little more than a whimper," Donelan said with a predator's smile. "Hell of a thing you did there, blowing yourself up. Remind me to give you a medal once you're up and around." He cleared his throat. "Which reminds me. The brewer's daughter has refused to leave the grounds without seeing you. She arrived the night we brought you back. Bit of a firecat, that one," he said with a wink. "Rhosyn?"

  Donelan shrugged. "That might be the name. Looks like a healthy lass. Shall I let Trygve clean you up and then give permission for them to let her in?" "I'd be grateful."

  Donelan chuckled. "Figured you'd end up with a girl who could keep you in ale. Maybe she'll be good for you." He nodded toward Cam's injured leg, still immobilized in a splint. "It's going to take a bit to get you up and around." Donelan looked to Trygve. "Send down for the girl when you're ready. And keep me posted on how Cam's doing. I want to be the first to know when he hauls his sorry rump out of bed." With that, Donelan turned and strode from the room.

  Trygve cleared his throat. "Well, then. Where were we?"

  "How about telling me whether I'll ever walk again, for starters. And whether my left hand is still attached."

  Trygve took a long breath. "Ah, about that. Yes. You haven't lost either the leg or the hand, but it was close as a whisker. I may not be quite the healer Carina is, but I wager that any less magic would have lost you both. What do you remember?" "Freezing my ass off in the snow outside the fuller's mill," Cam replied. "Waking up here. You said you were going to make me sleep."

  "That I did. You slept for three days, and then I brought you up to consciousness long enough to sip some water-most of which you spat back at me-and a bit of broth. You've been

  down for another three days, and I don't dare keep you under longer or you'll starve. You're not fixed up yet."

  As he awakened more fully, Cam became aware of a dull ache in his left arm. His broken knee throbbed despite Trygve's efforts to blunt the pain. "I feel like my head's full of wool." Trygve chuckled. "That's because of the drugs you've had for the pain. You needed more than my magic could do for you. The potions are hard on the stomach, but they're far better than the alternative."

  "Will I heal?" Cam was sure Trygve could hear the apprehension in his question. I've seen soldiers banged up like this. Most of them never were any use for soldiering again. I can fight with a bum left hand, but if I can't walk, my fighting days are over. "Heal? Yes. And before you ask, I think you'll be able to walk, tho' I won't guarantee you won't have a limp. Your knee looked like a smashed piece of crockery. Took me several days just for that working, not counting the mess they made of your hand. That's why I asked Donelan to send you to Carina once you can travel. I'm nearing the limit of what I can do, but I'm certain someone with her skill can do more." Trygve grinned. "Besides, if you're in Dark Haven, you won't be tempted to sneak back on duty before you're ready for it." Cam gestured with his good hand to the letter Donelan left behind. "Please. Read it," he requested as two servants came to change his clothes and sponge off his face and the parts of his body not covered in bandages.

  Trygve frowned in thought as he picked up the letter and broke the wax seal. "How long has it been since you heard from your brother?" "Eleven years."

  Trygve drew a deep breath and paused to make out the cramped writing. "Dear Cam and Carina. With father dead and Alvior gone missing (may he rot in the Crone's belly), I'm finally free to write to you. For years, I didn't know where you'd gone. We only learned you were with the king a few years ago. I tried once to get a letter through, but Alvior found out and told father, and he beat me for the effort.

  "I know your last memories of Brunnfen weren't pleasant. Mother never forgave father for sending you and Carina away. She took fever and died shortly afterward; I always thought she lost the will to live.

  "I wanted you to know that the nobles who had such a fit about you being twins are long

  dead, and the issue about magic was mostly in father's head. What I'm trying to say is that you'd be welcome here if you're of a mind to come back, seeing as how you're the eldest living son and the title is vacant.

  "I'm taller by half than when you left, with more than a passing resemblance to Carina. I'd had a farmer's tan from helping in the fields (it kept me out of Alvior's way), but when he found out that I suspected he had ties to the divisionists, Alvior locked me in the basement. Now I'm pale as the vayash moru, and likely to stay so until spring. "The last few seasons have been hard on Brunnfen. As with most of Isencroft, the harvest has been middling and the wheat got blight. It's no real prize, but the house is sturdy (though still as cold as I wager you remember it). Until you make up your mind, I'll do my best to keep the servants directed and start the planting as soon as the snows melt. "Whether you choose to stay or not, I would give anything to see you and Carina again. If you don't want to return to Brunnfen, then send for me and I'll make the journey to Aberponte.

  "I trust this finds you and Carina in good health. May
the Lady's hand be upon you," Trygve concluded. "It's signed, 'Renn'."

  Cam was silent for a moment. "All these years, and I never imagined a time when Brunnfen would be open to Carina and me again. And now. I don't know what to think."

  "There's no rush. It could well be summer before you're back from Dark Haven."

  "I don't know what Carina will say. She half raised Renn. I know she'll be grieved to know about mother's passing." Cam sighed. "It's a bit much, all at once."

  "Perhaps you'd like to see your visitor now," Trygve suggested. At Cam's nod, he spoke a word to Rhistiart, who went downstairs. Before long, a knock came at the door. Trygve opened the door to admit a plump young woman. She looked decidedly uncomfortable amid the palace's finery, but the glint in her eye was resolute. She spotted Cam in the bed and rushed forward, covering her mouth with her hands to stifle a cry.

  "I'll leave you two alone," Trygve said with a wink to Cam. He turned to the woman. "Mind that you can't stay long," he warned. "He's only just awakened. I wouldn't have called for you this quickly under most circumstances."

  The young woman nodded. Trygve closed the door behind him. "Cam?" she asked hesitantly.

  Cam managed a wan smile. "Hello, Rhosyn."

  Rhosyn moved closer, and gasped as she got a good look at Cam's injuries. "Does it hurt?"

  "Some. Though I think Trygve's given me enough drugs to fell a cow."

  Rhosyn dared to touch his right arm, a rare spot between bandages. "I heard that you'd been captured," she said quietly. "There were guardsmen at the ale house talking about it.

  Then Dav, the boy who slops the pigs, saw the wagon when they brought you back. I came to see you, but they wouldn't let me in. The girls in the kitchen gave me a place to stay. I asked after you every day." She looked down. "I hope you don't mind."

  "Trygve says I may walk, but he won't promise I can soldier," Cam said, fighting against the drugs that slurred the edges of his words. "Wants me to go to Carina and see what she can do." He tried to put on a brave face. "May be that I'll need Dav's job slopping hogs if they can't put me right."

  Rhosyn squared her shoulders. "Don't you say that, Cam. How many times did father tell you that if you get tired of the palace he'd take you for a partner in the brewery? Besides being his best customer, you make a fine mash when the hops are in." "You deserve better than a lamed old war horse like me."

  "Are you deaf? Have you not heard a word I've been sayin'? You must take us for the vintners, making wine with our feet. You've a good head on your shoulders, Cam of Cairnrach. You can taste things in the brew others can't. Doesn't take a sturdy back to brew ale, but it needs a nose and a tongue that's above average." She gave him a sideways glance. "And you're smarter than you look, which could get you a good bargain with the growers."

  "I don't know how long it will take before they think I'm up to the trip to Dark Haven, or how long I'll be there," Cam warned. Part of him wished desperately that he could take her in his arms, and the rest feared that she would eventually change her mind when she fully realized what a mess Ruggs had made of him.

  "Then I'll wait. I've got my dad's stubborn streak. Unless you're wantin' to be rid of me." She phrased it teasingly, but Cam glimpsed uncertainty in her eyes.

  "What I want is you beside me, to warm me up. By the Crone! I don't think I'll ever be warm again. As for what else I want, well, between the drugs and the way Trygve's got me bandaged up, anything else will have to wait."

  Rhosyn blushed. "Mind your manners, Cam. If father heard you talk like that, he'd go to the king to save my honor, and you'd find yourself handfasted at sword's point."

  "Truly a fate worse than death."

  "If you hadn't been thrashed within a breath of seeing the Crone, I'd smack you for that! Seeing how you are, I'll blame the drugs." She gave him a broad grin. "There's nothing to stop me from helping you recuperate until they send you away. Might even smuggle you in a pint or two if you're nice to me."

  Cam felt himself fading. "That's what I thought about, when they had me locked up. You and your daddy's ale."

  "I guess that's romantic, in a strange, backhanded sort of way," she replied. "The question is, which did you miss more?"

  Before Cam could answer, the door opened and Trygve returned. "He really needs to rest," the healer told Rhosyn. He glanced from her to Cam and back again. "Perhaps you'd do me a favor," he said. "Could you visit again, in a day or two? This great ox is going to need some incentive to finish his healing, and it won't be easy. Having a visitor might be the tonic he needs."

  Rhosyn pretended to think about it for a moment. "Agreed." She looked at Trygve slyly. "And I can guarantee you an open tab at the brewery if you let me visit regularly." "That's bribery!" Cam protested half-heartedly.

  "Damn right it is," Trygve replied. "You have a deal," he said to Rhosyn. She blew a kiss to Cam before she turned to follow a servant from the room.

  Trygve moved to stand beside Cam's bed as Rhistiart let himself back into the room. Trygve helped Cam sit and Rhistiart brought over a tray with soup, custard and a cup of watered wine. "I'm glad you've got a reason to live," Trygve said, "because the next stage in your healing may have you wishing Ruggs had finished you off. I'll have to lance the last of the poison from the blood in your arm, and after I make a few more healings to that knee, you'll need to start trying to bend it or it will freeze that way and you really won't walk again." "I'll be ready," Cam promised, losing his battle to keep Rhistiart from feeding him. "Only next time, can you ask the cook to send up brandy?"

  Chapter Thirty-five

  "Sorry for the delay, Your Majesty," the young lieutenant apologized. "But the snow's drifted too deep for the horses up ahead. I've sent two men to clear a way through." Tris Drayke nodded. The winter wind tore at his heavy cloak, whipping the new snow with blinding ferocity. A snowstorm had frustrated his efforts to travel quickly, dropping snow so heavily that they had been forced to take shelter one whole day. Now, just a day's ride from Shekerishet, their progress was maddeningly slow.

  They trudged on, with four men clearing the way as the others carefully picked a path through the deep snow. But as they rounded the bend near where the old Lamb's Eye Inn stood, Tris felt a shift in the temperature that had nothing to do with the foreboding clouds overhead. He held up a hand for the party to stop. "What is it, m'lord?" the captain asked.

  Tris extended his power to make clear to them what he already saw on the Plains of Spirit. A score of ghosts glided toward them, unencumbered by the snow. Tris dismounted and walked to meet them. Several he recognized as the palace ghosts, Comar Hassad, Ula the nursemaid and Seanna. His eyes widened as he saw the newly dead spirits of Zachar, Malae, Bian the cook, Kiara's guards Ammond and Hothan and several of the palace help. Zachar's spirit moved to the front, and he gave a courteous bow. "Your Majesty," he said. "We must speak with you before you reach the palace."

  At Tris's signal, the soldiers circled their horses to provide as much shelter from the wind as possible. Tris gestured for the captain and the lieutenant to join him. Unbidden, Coalan followed them. "What happened?" Tris asked, appalled to find his old friend and loyal seneschal among the dead.

  "Crevan betrayed all of us," Zachar replied. Tris listened as Zachar recounted Crevan's treachery and told of the murders. Tris felt his temper rise as Zachar told about the attacks on Kiara, Carroway's imprisonment and Guarov's use of the Council of Nobles. "We can vouch for the queen's honor, and for Carroway's as well," Zachar finished. "But what Crevan started, Lord Guarov seems intent to finish. It's the old scandal, given wings with new accusations. We know

  Crevan kept your letters from reaching Kiara, and hers from you. We feared for the queen and for Carroway, unless you knew the truth of what's happened since you went to war." "Thank you, Zachar," Tris said quietly, letting the enormity of Crevan's betrayal sink in. "Once again, you've served with honor, all of you."

  "Ride with haste, m'lord," Zachar cautioned. "Your lady and your f
riend depend on it." Tris let the images of the ghosts fade and turned to the twenty hand-picked soldiers who rode with him. "You heard them," he said. "We have to reach Shekerishet before nightfall." Snow was drifted deep as a man's waist against the outer walls of Shekerishet when Tris and his soldiers arrived. A cold sunset of yellow and orange silhouetted the bare trees against the horizon.

  Tris pushed back his hood to reveal his face as they reached the gate, as if the guards required more identification than the king's colors on the horses' livery or the crest on Tris's shield. "Open the gates!" he commanded, chafing at the delay as the massive doors to the outer bailey creaked open. Tris and his soldiers thundered through, stirring up a cloud of snow behind them.

  Tris jumped down from his horse as groomsmen ran to take his reins. He set out at a run for the palace doors, with three of the guards hard pressed to keep up with him. A stocky figure ran toward them from the guards' tower, and Tris recognized Harrtuck, even at a distance. Tris's eyes narrowed as he spotted the new gallows in the bailey yard. "Tov, where's Kiara?"

  Tov Harrtuck bowed as deeply as he could as he caught his breath in the freezing air. "Thank the Lady you're back! The queen is in her rooms. But there's something I need to tell you-"

  Tris met Harrtuck's gaze. "The palace ghosts found us a day's ride out. Don't worry. I know what's going on."

  With that, Tris sprinted up the steps. He dashed past the servants who stopped to stare and took the stairs two at a time. When he reached the door to Kiara's chamber he slowed, and signaled for the guards to stand back.

  Now that he was finally here, his heart was in his throat. Part of him feared for the safety of Kiara and the baby, and part of him dreaded the reunion, despite the testimony of the palace ghosts. He of anyone knew that ghosts were not omniscient. While he did not doubt Crevan's treachery or Guarov's vindictiveness, his stomach tightened at the thought that the rumors might