The Plains of Kallanash

by Pauline M. Ross

  “Let us put all our crowns on the board.”

  For a moment Jonnor just stared at him, then he nodded and took a deep gulp of wine.

  “I am thirty-six years old,” Hurst began, “and I’m running out of time to reach the border. My father made it, my younger brothers are well on their way, and I want to get there too. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, my whole life.”

  Jonnor was watching him, his face suspicious, not sure where this was going. It was clear that he hadn’t expected this approach.

  “I had other marriage possibilities,” Hurst went on. “But this one – I felt straight away that you were my best hope. We’re a good match in the skirmishes, you and I. You’re terrific at defence, and you’ve always managed the negotiations well too. Whereas I… I can move quickly and produce the unexpected attack. We did well when we worked together, as we did when we first came here, and these last few weeks, too.” It was not quite a lie, he felt, more a smudging of the truth. He took another swallow of wine. “I think we can move on to the fourth line quite swiftly if we continue to combine our strengths. Not this year, perhaps, but next year… I believe it would be possible. But let me be honest with you, Jonnor. I won’t stand by and watch it all drift away. You’re not the only one with ability on the line, and I want to do my fair share. Together we can do better than either of us alone.”

  Again he drank. Jonnor was drinking steadily as he listened, his face calmer now, and Hurst refilled his own glass and slid the decanter across the table.

  “As for Mia…” Another mouthful of wine to steady him. He shifted a little, trying to find a comfortable position for his bad leg. “You know how I feel about her, brother. Gods, the whole world knows how I feel, except for Mia herself. But she’s never looked twice at me. Well, who would? It’s you she’s always wanted.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous!”

  “Didn’t you realise?”

  “No, I... Really?” Jonnor looked doubtful. Had he truly never noticed, never looked at Mia and seen the hope in her eyes? Perhaps not. He’d only ever seen Tella, never looked any further, never seen beyond Mia’s apparent contentment with her role. “Are you sure?”

  Hurst gave a little laugh. He wondered if Jonnor heard the bitterness in him, or whether he sounded quite normal.

  “Yes, I’m sure. And I find I’d rather see her happy than have her myself. So I won’t press you to share her, brother. If she’s happy with you, I can be content. I’ll take my share of the skirmishes and you can have Mia. But you have to do the business with her, and soon. If we go to the Ring without a settled arrangement in place...”

  “I know, I know, they’ll break us. Do you think I don’t realise that? Gods, how I hate the interviews!” Jonnor drained his wine again and poured more. “Those pods! I can’t breathe in there, and the globes…”

  “There’s nothing to fear from them if we tell the truth,” Hurst said, although his stomach contracted at the thought of it. Everyone hated the interviews. “So it has to be done. You and Mia.”

  Jonnor nodded. “It’s ironic, isn’t it? I’ve always envied you, you know, Hurst.”

  “You envied me? Handsome, perfectly formed me?” He flapped one hand at his leg and the other towards his face.

  Jonnor managed a half-smile. “You have this way with women, somehow, so effortless.”

  Now Hurst was astonished. “Me? What under the sun…?”

  “Oh, come on, don’t play the innocent! You’ve always had this air of self-assurance.”

  “I… Really?” He scratched his nose, frowning. “Well, I like women, naturally. I enjoy being with them, who doesn't? But I've never been particularly confident around them, not like some men. Swordwork – that was different. I’ve been in battle on the border with my father, so I admit to being quite cocky about my fighting skills. But with women – not really.”

  “Well, whatever you do, it seems to work. I hear about all these conquests of yours. One of the cooks. That girl from the stables. A couple of Commanders’ daughters.”

  Hurst shifted uncomfortably. He never thought of them as conquests, as if he’d fought for them and won, fending off rivals or their own reluctance. Rather they’d come to him. He wasn’t quite sure what they saw in him, but he’d been very happy to oblige them.

  “And then there were Tella’s Companions,” Jonnor went on.

  “Oh but – it’s part of their job, isn’t it?”

  “Even Tersia? Oh. I never thought of that. But the thing is, Hurst…” He gulped down his wine, and refilled his glass again. “The thing is… I’ve never had much luck with women. Not even a bit of fumbling in the stables, and everyone manages that, don’t they? So Tella… well, Tella was…” He broke off, red faced with embarrassment.

  “Your first?” Hurst prompted.

  He nodded, staring down into his wine. “And actually, I liked the whole arrangement… you know, having exclusive access. She was there whenever I wanted her, mine, no dancing around, no wondering…. And with Mia… I think the same thing would work best, don’t you? Not sharing. It’s… less confusing. And if you’re happy with that too…”

  Hurst’s stomach lurched. Happy with it? Could he ever be happy with Jonnor in Mia’s bed? Yes, he told himself firmly, if that made her happy, then yes. So he tried to keep his tone even. “Whatever pleases Mia, and if it works better for you too, brother... But it must be soon.”

  “Yes, yes, I know. But…”

  “But?”

  “It’s so difficult… being in Tella’s room, in her very bed.” He heaved a sigh.

  “Then go somewhere else,” Hurst said, acid-toned. “Take her to your room, or do it on the floor of the atrium. Do it standing up, if you must. I have some books, if it would help. With pictures.”

  “Gods, Hurst, are you suggesting…? It’s not that I can’t, you know. You never miss an opportunity to insult me…”

  “No, no, no, I didn’t mean…” Hurst ran a hand through his unruly hair. “I’m not your enemy, brother,” he said tiredly, “and I’m not trying to insult you. I understand how painful this must be for you.” Although he didn’t, not entirely. How difficult could it be? “I thought it might help get things moving, that’s all.”

  Jonnor looked at him suspiciously. “Hmm. Books, eh? I’ll fetch some more wine and you can show me these books of yours.”

  ~~~

  Mia was agitated when she returned, and took the first opportunity to draw Hurst aside.

  “Nothing’s happened! I mean, I know he’s grieving, and I’m no match for Tella, but still…”

  “It’s all right. We’ve talked about it. He’ll do it.”

  “Are you sure? Because he’s had weeks and…”

  “It’s all right.”

  “It has to be done before we travel…”

  “I know. He understands. He’ll do it.” He saw her disbelieving face, and he had his own doubts, but he had to do his best to reassure her. “Look, I’m off the day after tomorrow, and then there’s one night before you leave…”

  “One night!”

  “He’ll do it, Mia. He knows what’s at stake here.”

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  “He will.”

  “Yes, but if he doesn’t?”

  “Then we’ll find a way at the Ring. It’s difficult, but it’s not impossible.”

  “If he can’t do anything here, how is he going to manage at the Ring?”

  “If he can’t, I can. I’ve done it before.”

  “Really? You’ve had sex at the Ring?” And she smiled, as sudden a radiance as the sun coming out from behind a cloud. “But it’s supposed to be a time of abstinence and spiritual contemplation!”

  “What, for two months? That’s an awful lot of spiritual contemplation, and far too much abstinence for any normal man. Besides, I used to regard it as a challenge.”

  She giggled, hand over mouth. “But how…? Where…?”

  “Well, in the library, one time. There are som
e very secluded spots, if you know where to look. Up in the poetry section, for example. And in one of the ladies’ gardens another time.”

  “Goodness! But how did you get in?”

  “Actually, the getting in is considerably easier than the getting out, as I recall, but that’s a long story.” And a dark one, too, he thought uneasily. That was a bad time, not one he wanted to be reminded about.

  Mia giggled again. He loved these intimate little moments with her, and the memory of them kept him from too much introspection. Whatever happened, they would always be friends, and perhaps that was enough.

  Then she frowned and tipped her head to one side. “Used to? Don’t you do this sort of thing anymore, then?”

  “Oh, not so much. When you’re sixteen, the risk is part of the attraction, but at thirty-six… well, I wouldn’t claim greater maturity, but climbing over walls and evading guards is more effort and less fun, and the reward less… enticing. Or perhaps I just prefer the comfort of a bed these days.”

  She smiled, but he could see concern in her eyes.

  “Hurst, may I ask…?”

  “Anything, you know that.”

  “What have you and Jonnor decided… about you? And me, I mean.” She flushed a little, but still looked him straight in the eye.

  He tried to respond in the same calm way, but his heart was racing. “Jonnor feels it would be better if it were just the two of you. Less confusing.”

  She nodded, and he could read nothing in her face. “You’ve always… made your own arrangements, haven’t you?”

  “Yes. I have the Companions, after all. And there are… other options.”

  “And you’re… comfortable with that?”

  “I am.” Was there any hesitation there? He hoped not.

  “Because... I wouldn’t want you to think… I mean, I wouldn’t mind, you know… whatever the situation…”

  He smiled then, loving her more than ever. He leaned forward and stroked her cheek. “Thank you, Mia. But it’s fine.”

  And she beamed back at him. “If all goes well, perhaps I will have a child of my own by this time next year.”

  “Hmm. Don’t depend on that. It took Tella a long time.”

  “Oh, but that was Tella. No reason I should have the same trouble.”

  He hesitated. Should he say anything? But he had no wish to worry her, and after all, it might happen. So he let it pass, smiled and said nothing.

  7: Sky Ship (Mia)

  Mia watched Hurst's wagon leave, accompanied by his three Companions and a second wagon loaded with their travel boxes. She wished they could all journey together, but too many travellers from one Karning would overload the sky ships. When next she saw Hurst at the Ring, everything would be different, for she would be Jonnor’s wife in every way. She remembered her father’s warning about Hurst, and how he would feel if he were excluded. He had kissed her cheek when he left, as always, but was he more subdued than usual? She shook off her unease. He was just nervous about his coming interview, that was all.

  Jonnor was off with the builders, as usual, and her Companions were busy with the preparations for their own departure the next day, so she had many hours to fill. She had already packed her box. Normally she would have relished the chance to spend the day with her books, but not today. Today she could think of nothing but the coming night and what would happen then. Finally! She had waited so long. She understood Jonnor’s reluctance, and knew she was a poor substitute for Tella. Still, it was dispiriting to lie in her bed night after night hoping he would come to her, and being always disappointed.

  The hours trickled past. Jonnor returned for the afternoon stillness, but he went to his room to rest and as soon as the bell sounded again he was gone. She prepared the roast with unusual care that evening. She made sure there were two decanters filled with the best wine and she put on one of her prettiest gowns, a close-fitting one which showed off what little shape she had. She had no experience of men in real life, but her books had taught her a great deal and she knew men liked such things. She had read about other techniques, too, more intimate tricks, but she was not confident she could carry them off effectively. Besides, the advice she’d been given as she grew up was that a wife should be passive and allow the man to take the lead.

  When Jonnor returned for meat, he surprised her by making an effort to talk to her, or at least to respond to her chattering. It was rather a successful evening, despite the awkwardness, although neither of them ate much. She drank almost two goblets of wine, and Jonnor finished the rest of the decanter and began on the second. This time she was determined not to loiter downstairs, so she cleared away as soon as they had finished eating.

  “Well, I shall go on up,” she said brightly.

  “Of course,” he said, with a wide smile. “I’ll just have a little more wine, I think.”

  His face was a little flushed, but then he often looked that way after a few goblets of wine. She climbed the stairs, and lit all the lamps in her room. She had made a few changes to the furnishings, in the hope that it would no longer remind Jonnor of Tella's long residence there. She slipped into one of Tella’s exquisite nightgowns, so much finer than her own, more suitable. There was just the faintest hint of perfume wafting from it. That would never do! She tossed it into a wardrobe, and pulled on one of her own gowns. It was less pretty, but at least it wouldn’t upset Jonnor.

  She remembered the excitement she had felt the last time she had waited for Jonnor to come to her. Then she had been filled with pleasurable anticipation. Now she was only nervous, in case it all ended in disaster again and the marriage had to break. She shivered with fear at the thought. This was the last opportunity. Despite Hurst’s assurances, she had no confidence that anything would be possible at the Ring. Men and women were kept strictly apart there, and the restrictions were just too tight.

  She heard Jonnor’s heavy footsteps on the stairs not long after, disappearing into his room. Then there was silence for a long time, and she grew more anxious. Eventually he came. He wore a thin robe with no gown underneath, and he still carried the decanter and goblet. His face was quite red, and he was breathing heavily. She stood beside the bed, not quite sure what to do, waiting for him to speak or to do something, but he simply stood watching her, taking an occasional mouthful of wine. When the goblet was empty, he refilled it and set the decanter down on a table.

  “Take it off,” he said, his speech a little slurred.

  “What?”

  “The gown. Take it off.”

  “Oh. Of course.”

  With trembling fingers she pulled it over her head and tossed it onto the bed, and stood naked before him. He said nothing more, just watched her, drinking and watching, his heavy breathing audible in the stillness.

  In all the books she had read describing such moments, whether in roundabout terms or more direct, nothing had prepared her for this unnerving silent scrutiny. The last traces of anticipation drained away, and for the first time she was frightened. She felt exposed, vulnerable, scared. Nor could she think what he wanted from her, what she could possibly do to make things better. She could find no words to reach him. She could only wait, hoping he would find the strength to cross whatever barrier he saw between them.

  After what seemed an interminable time, he drained the goblet and set it down, his face fierce. At last he moved towards her, crossing the space between them in a few strides, tugging at the ties on his robe. Then he was there, pressing against her, pushing her, reaching for her. She could feel the heat of his body. His force carried her backwards so that her bare skin was pressed against the stone wall, rough and cold and unyielding. Still he pushed forwards, leaning against her, his knees between her legs, forcing them apart, grunting a little, his head down, not looking at her.

  And then the pain. She had never imagined it would hurt so much, at first a sharp searing pain, and then a deeper burning inside her. She gasped, and gasped again each time he thrust into her. He was moaning, lost
in his own sensations, and there was no stopping him. She was pinned to the wall by his lust, unable to speak or cry or move or protest. She thought the torture would never end as he rammed himself into her, over and over again.

  And then, abruptly, it stopped. For a moment, they were both motionless, leaning against the wall, gasping for breath. She was too shocked to speak. For an age they stood there, and still he said nothing, not even looking at her. Then he pulled back, drew his robe around him with fierce, jerky tugs and without a glance turned away from her. Collecting decanter and goblet on the way, he left the room.

  Her shaking legs collapsed beneath her and she slumped down, her knees banging hard against the marble floor. She knelt, rocking a little, her heart racing, trying to catch her breath. She could feel something warm trickling down her legs and when she put her hand there, it came away stained with blood. Still she couldn’t move.

  At length, she heard the last bell sounding in the distance. Had it only been an hour since she had left the living floor? It felt like a lifetime ago. She rose unsteadily, and fetched her gown from the bed, using it to clean herself and then the floor. Then she went through to the water room. She had forgotten to light the burners, so the water was ice cold, but that seemed to fit her mood. She washed her legs, scrubbing with the cloth, but somehow she still felt unclean. She gave up and rinsed out the gown, hanging it up to dry.

  She went back to the bedroom, and found an old gown to wear, a thick winter one, for she was shivering. Then she got into bed and curled into a tight, miserable ball.

  ~~~

  Morsha, her senior Companion, woke her the next morning.

  “Well, you must have had a good night, to be sleeping so late!” She winked at Mia, and went to open the shutters. “Communion in two small bells.”

  For a moment Mia was puzzled, then with a stab of anguish she remembered. And, remembering, she was astonished that she had slept at all. She hauled herself out of bed, washed and dressed in her travelling clothes, and went down for family communion.