“Oh, petal!” Cal said. “What a difficult decision to make.”
Mother shook her head. “You’ve always been thrust into these impossible situations. When you first knew Ly, and had to deal with his magic… and that horrible business with the Icthari trying to kill you… It’s not right! You should be like Sallorna, studying quietly and building a career, not making these life or death decisions.”
“It’s what she’s been trained for,” Cal said mildly. “She’s Yannassia’s heir, and making tricky decisions is part of the job. But I’m not sure what we can say that would be helpful to you, petal. Either you feel the risk is worthwhile, or you don’t.”
“What would happen if you don’t agree to this?” Mother said. “Would Ly go into the Clanlands on his own?”
“I don’t think he would,” I said. “He can’t easily find this second byan shar without me. I can detect his magic, but Ly can’t – his own is too strong. And I can take this boy’s magic from him, if need be, although that wouldn’t help unless we can capture him, somehow, which doesn’t seem likely. The two of us – or rather the three of us – would have a real possibility of finding the boy and at least talking to him. On his own, I don’t know what Ly can do.”
“So I suppose you have to do this?” Mother said gently.
“And yet, you’ve come all this way to discuss it with us,” Cal said. “That suggests you have strong reservations about it.”
I was silent, knowing perfectly well the cause of my hesitation. “If it were just me, I wouldn’t hesitate,” I said. “But Arran… it’s such a risk, and… I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to him! How could I possibly go on without him? I… it would be… no, I can’t even think about it! It would be too horrible, too horrible!”
Cal moved his chair next to mine, and held me in his arms for a long time until I’d almost stopped weeping.
“Then I think you have your answer,” he said quietly.
~~~~~
I left Lakeside at first light the next morning, and even as Sunshine landed on the Keep roof, the watch captain rushed forward to tell me I was wanted immediately in the planning room. I’d expected that. Rinnfarr Gap had taken us by surprise, but now we had to formulate a response.
The atmosphere in the planning room was tense. I could see at once the two factions. On one side, my brother Axandor, the army High Commander, surrounded by the most war-prone of the nobles. Naturally they would want to sweep the army into action immediately. On the other, Yannassia and her advisors, more cautious, circling slowly round the problem. And Hethryn in the middle, calmly interrogating the law scribes on the exact state of our arrangements with Rinnfarr Gap.
I had nothing sensible to contribute to the debate, but even so, several people greeted my arrival with relief. “Ah, the Drashonor at last! Excellent! Do tell us, Most Powerful… On your visit to Greenstone Ford, Highness… What is the opinion of the northern border, Most Powerful…?”
The discussion went on all afternoon and into the evening until my head was spinning, and even Yannassia was beginning to wilt. Eventually, she said, “It is late, and we are all tired and hungry, I am sure. Hethryn, summarise with a proposal, if you please.”
He rose to his feet. “We are not required to intervene on behalf of Rinnfarr Gap, which is fully independent. That much is clear. Nor have they asked for our help. We do, however, have an obligation to defend the Port Holdings. I propose that we move troops from the northwestern and southwestern borders, which have no current threat, to the south, ready to aid the Port Holdings in case of any attack there. We should also maintain vigilance on the eastern border in case the golden army attacks Bennamore.”
“Then that is what we shall do,” Yannassia said, rising and shaking out her skirts. “See to it, High Commander.” She swept out with her retinue.
Axandor bowed smartly. He’d never been terribly bright, but he’d found a niche in the army which suited him well, and he’d learned when to speak and when to hold his tongue, which was the first requirement for high politics. When we were children I’d despised and ignored him, and he’d fallen into our older sister’s orbit, which hadn’t turned out well for any of us. But he’d grown up, and I’d mellowed, and we rubbed along together reasonably well now.
He still liked the uniform and the high rank, though, for he strutted out after Yannassia with a self-important swagger, a little gaggle of commanders in his wake.
Arran was waiting outside the planning room for me. My heart leapt to see him, and I walked straight into his arms.
“You look tired,” he murmured into my hair, for I was still in my flying gear. “How about a nice long soak in the tub? And then something special to eat? Ly is preparing one of his concoctions.”
“Is he? That will be lovely. And a bath, too. Will you scrub my back?”
He chuckled. “Of course, my little flower. Whatever you want.”
But when we reached the apartment, I had a sudden yearning to see the children before they were whisked away to bed. Then I bathed, and afterwards took an unusually long time to decide what to wear. My poor waiting women! Usually they would lay out three options and I would pick one almost at random. Now I sent them back to the hanging rooms repeatedly with requests for something plainer, or cooler, or prettier. And in the end I chose one of the first outfits they’d selected.
We went to Ly’s apartment to eat. He’d prepared one of his special fish dishes for me, stuffed with fruit and honey and some kind of wild grain that his people used a lot. I’d taken so long getting ready that it was dry and not at all as nice as usual, but I didn’t complain and Ly said nothing about my lateness.
The two men talked valiantly about everything under the sun except the one thing they most wanted to ask about. I couldn’t talk at all, and only toyed with my food. Eventually, I pushed my plate away.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t do it.”
“Do what, sweetheart?” Arran said gently.
“The blood-bonding. I just can’t!” And then tears overwhelmed me.
Arran held me and rocked me and murmured into my ear until I’d calmed myself a little.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, looking at Ly.
He hesitated, then said carefully, “You must do as you think best for all of us, as always.”
I didn’t dare look at Arran. There was nothing more to say, so we went back early to our own rooms, speeding through the apartment in silence. As we walked, I reached for his hand and he squeezed mine, giving me a wan smile, but then his eyes drooped again. When we entered the bedroom, he would have undressed and gone to bed in the same sad silence, but I couldn’t bear that.
“You’re disappointed,” I said, taking both his hands so that he had to face me.
“Of course.” His face flared with energy. “I really thought… I hoped that for once I could be something more than just your shadow. I love being your drusse, so you must not misunderstand my meaning, but I do feel… a bit useless sometimes. I have no purpose to my life except to walk two paces behind you, and wait for you, and hold you tight when life gets you down. And so often you have no need of me even for those trivial functions, because you have Ly and you go off together and have adventures and nearly get yourself killed, and I cannot even be there to protect you. But now Ly really needs my help, and I so much want to do it… wanted to, I mean. To have a real function, and not just be pointless.”
“Oh, darling! You’re not at all pointless, not to me. And it’s so dangerous, this blood-bonding, especially for you.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “I have never shied away from danger. That is why I went into the Elite, and became a bodyguard, after all. Part of me envies Axandor, you know, for if things do turn to war, he will be in the midst of it all. So the risk of the blood-bonding is the last thing I worry about.”
“But I worry about it!” I cried. “I worry about you. What would I do if anything happened to you? I couldn’t live without
you!”
“Oh, sweetheart!” He pulled me close, and I rested my cheek against his broad chest. I could feel the warmth of his body through his shirt, and his familiar male smell was so comforting. Surely Arran would always be here to hold me tight, to reassure me that everything would be fine? “Sweetheart,” he said again, in a stronger voice. “You would get by very well without me.”
I pushed away from him. “How can you say that? It’s not true!”
“Hush, hush! No tears. Come over here and sit beside me.” Meekly I let him lead me to the window seat. When we were settled, my head on his shoulder, he went on, “Did I ever tell you about my mother? No? She was the lynchpin of the family, the one we all turned to when we needed advice or comfort, the one who kept everything turning. Whatever disaster befell any of us, she made it better. Everyone adored her. But when I was twelve, she… she died – a stupid carriage accident. For a while, we all went to pieces, drifting, like flotsam on the river. At the time, it seemed like the end of everything. My poor father was devastated, sunk in perpetual gloom. My brother and sisters and I… we had no idea what to do with our lives. We were quite lost. But gradually, bit by bit, we got up and carried on. Mother left us some wonderful memories and we never forgot her, but we carried on. And if anything were to happen to me, you would carry on, too.”
I was too choked with misery to speak, or do anything except cling to him.
“Everything we do is a risk,” he went on calmly. “Life is a risk. We cannot avoid risk without avoiding life itself.”
When did he become so wise? Years of court life had given him perspective, perhaps. I knew he was right. And love – that was the greatest risk of all. To love another human being, you had to open yourself completely, holding nothing back. You put your heart, your happiness, your very soul, in the hands of another person. You made yourself utterly vulnerable to sorrow, and betrayal, and loss. And yet, wasn’t it worth it? Every time I woke to see Arran beside me, every time he looked at me from across a room, affection in his face, every time I emerged, exhausted, from a long meeting to see his smiling face, I knew it was worth it. And even if all that disappeared tomorrow, it would still have been worth it.
“You really want to do this?” I croaked, my throat tight.
“I do. I want us to be united, the three of us, to do things together. I never want to be left behind again.”
I laughed in a burst of delight. “Yes! That would be wonderful. I’ve been selfish, haven’t I? Thinking only of how it would affect me. But this isn’t just about me, it’s about you and Ly and the future of both the Blood Clans and Bennamore.”
“But it is also a very personal thing,” he said seriously. “It will change us all, for good or ill.”
“And yet you still want to try it.”
“I do.”
“And you want to fly an eagle.”
He grinned. “That, too, of course. Who would not?”
“Well, then, we will do this. We will blood-bond with Ly, no matter the consequences.”
13: Forest
Once again, I travelled north, riding with Arran in slow procession. In vain I’d protested that I would be leaving Bennamore, going into the heart of the Clanlands, and all those accompanying scribes and waiting women and guards would have to turn round at the border and go straight back to Kingswell. I was still Drashonor, still one of the most powerful people in the realm, and it was unthinkable for me to go anywhere without a full escort.
How I envied Ly, gliding serenely above us on Diamond. He’d never managed to deal with horses. Their minds weren’t receptive to his bonding power, panicking whenever he was near, and he was terrified of riding a creature that he couldn’t control with his mind. So he flew while we rode, and disappeared at night to sleep alone. I knew exactly where he was, though. He could never hide from me, for his magic blazed in my mind as large as the moon.
At Lakeside, Mother wept all over Arran and me as if she would never see us again, Cal hugged me tight and Sallorna gave us both jade necklaces imbued with spells for good fortune on long journeys. The Kellon offered us the resources of his modest hall, but we needed nothing, beyond a room for one night. We’d brought everything we’d need from Kingswell.
The following morning we set off on foot. It surprised me how little we took with us. Arran carried his sword and shield, a couple of knives, a bow and quiver. Ly had his own hunting equipment, and I had a small pack with some food supplies, my herbs and a brewing pot. I took a navigation stone and map, too, and some salves and bandages, but I hoped not to need them. Apart from water flasks, a blanket and cloak each, that was all. Everything else we needed for food or shelter, we would make or catch or prepare on the spot. Or Ly would, rather. We were very much in his hands. Arran had done a little camping as a boy, and later during his Elite training, but he was far from able to survive in the wild, and I had no skills to contribute. It was as much as I could do to get dressed each morning without help.
But we had to spend a moon living in the wilderness, so Ly told us, to allow the blood-bond the time to work. “To show its temperament”, as Ly put it. At least it was high summer, the nights would be warm and we were coming up to brightmoon, so we had only a few hours of darkness to get through each night.
The eagles went with us, but Arran had to walk so we all walked. He had already chosen his eagle, a large male a little darker than the others, whom he had named Midnight. Several other birds from Kingswell, and a couple from Lakeside tagged along, too, still taking a protective interest in Sunshine. Or perhaps they were just curious about what we were doing.
We set off to the west, with the small town and the breeze-ruffled lake soon left behind. The two men strode forwards purposefully, eyes shining with suppressed excitement, as if it were just a pleasant adventure, a modest break in routine. If they had any reservations about the irrevocable step we were taking, they made no mention of them. I trudged behind them, my head full of doubts that I tried in vain to suppress.
The level grassland near the lake, smoothed by generations of Clanfolk, was easy walking, but it soon gave way to rougher ground and then woodland, which gradually became dense forest. In the times of war, a road had been carved through to carry the wagons and riders, and for a while we followed that. The road surface, whether wood or stone, had been covered over with leaf litter and other debris now, and new growth sprouted everywhere, but it was easier walking than the deep forest on either side, a maze of fallen trees and tangled bushes.
Late in the morning, we came to a wider gash in the forest. A straight road ran as far as the eye could see in both directions. It was called the Imperial Road, although no one knew why. The magical heart of Kingswell, the Imperial City, had equally mysterious origins, for there had never been an empire in this part of the world, or none that were recorded in our histories.
I’d asked my tutor once why they were so named, and she’d smiled and said, “Whenever people cannot understand a thing, they always ascribe it to a higher power. If it arises in nature, why then it must be the work of the gods. And for something constructed, it is the Empire. For we have had Drashons and Princes and Kings, and none of them could have built the Imperial City or the Imperial Road. So it must have been an Emperor.”
At the time, I’d laughed, but standing on the road now, I was struck forcibly by the idea. The Bennamorian war-road, abandoned only five years ago, was already little more than an overgrown track. In another five years it would be lost altogether. Yet the Imperial Road looked much as its makers had left it. Wide enough for twenty men to walk abreast, as straight as a spear, and untainted by weeds or cracked slabs or dirt. The surface was as smooth and level as if it had just been laid. On either side lay a strip of verge, which would be overgrown and lost in a season anywhere else if untended. Here, it looked as if a team of scythers had just passed through.
I’d ridden along this road before, but then I’d been escaping from the Blood Clans, and terrified that Ly would find me
and drag me back to be his prisoner again. Now, the circumstances were very different. In Bennamorian law, Ly would always be my prisoner, but I didn’t doubt he was as free now as he’d ever been. Free, and happy to be away from Kingswell, it seemed to me. There was a contentment about him as we left civilisation behind and headed into the wilderness.
“Where does it go to, this road?” Arran said, looking into the distance first one way, then the other.
“Nowhere,” I said. “It starts up a few marks to the south of here, it runs on like this for hundreds of marks, then it just stops.”
“It should connect two great cities,” Arran said. “The southern end must be close to the Imperial City…?”
I shook my head. “Wrong direction. I assume it pre-dates the Catastrophe, so who knows what its original purpose was? But it is pointless now.”
Except for those making war on the Blood Clans, I amended mentally. When we’d pursued our ill-fated attempt to secure the black-bark forest a few years ago, the Imperial Road had made it possible. Then it had echoed to the cries of the oxen-drivers urging their beasts onward, the creaking of wagons and the rattle of many well-armed soldiers marching to war. Now it was silent and still, not even a bird calling.
Ly waited for us just off the road, in the shadows where the trees began again. In front of us was untouched forest, with nothing but the occasional deer track to aid our progress. Before long, we were making wide detours around brambles or bog, and scrambling over fallen trees. Arran solicitously helped me find my way over or around obstacles, and once carried me bodily across a particularly boggy stretch, but I was soon a mess, my hands scratched and my trousers torn.
“Does it get easier?” I puffed, as Ly waited in a sunny clearing for us to catch up.
“That depends what you mean by easier,” he said with his gentle smile.
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