The Plains of Kallanash

by Pauline M. Ross

  “I can only see two… No, it must be three, because one went off to the right and another appeared from the left. Look there! More!”

  “Four,” said Hurst. “Definitely four. No, five, I can see five! Gods! Five people – how is that possible?”

  Then they were gone, and there was nothing but the steady flame of the blue lights. They stood in astonished silence side by side as the dawn gradually painted the sky in washed out blues against patches of indigo.

  Their Companions returned to the balcony, and then the Slaves, two acolytes struggling with the heavy gong, more waving censers and chanting, filling the air with incense. The gong’s hollow echo crashed across the open grassland towards the funeral tower. The blue light flared intensely for a brief moment. It was done, and still they stood motionless.

  Mia realised that Hurst was holding her hand, but she found that she didn’t mind. She was numb with disbelief, and that warm contact, his fingers wrapped around hers, reassured her that she was not mad or deluded or mistaking shadows for something more, for he had seen it too. There had been five people in the funeral tower, where only four had been left, and one of those dead, and she had no idea what it meant.

  Mia went to bed for a while, hurling the hated white gown into a corner and putting on a thick nightgown instead. The bed held so many memories, for she had shared it with Jonnor so recently. Of course, she had also shared it with Hurst, but she tried not to think about that. She lay in the gloom, curtains drawn against the morning light, and felt her flat stomach, wondering if there was a baby growing in there. Every month she hoped, and yet nothing had come of it. Surely this time it would happen, and she would have some little part of Jonnor to cherish.

  After a while, she got up again, picked up the crumpled mourning gown and folded it neatly. Then she got back into bed and slept.

  ~~~

  The routine of the month of mourning began. The first official mourners, as before, were Jonnor’s father and mother. Mia had dreaded their arrival, for she assumed they would be angry with Hurst for killing their son. Jonnor’s father appeared not in the least bothered, and actually congratulated Hurst on his success. His mother was clearly upset, and wept a great deal, but her husband was impatient with her.

  “Women!” he said, raising his eyebrows. “Make a great deal of fuss about these things.”

  “He was her son,” Mia said, shocked.

  “Jonnor left us almost twenty years ago,” he said with a shrug, “and he lived with a couple of my brothers until he married, so we saw very little of him.” And then he smiled in his raffish way, looking sideways at Mia. “So – you’ll be wanting a new husband, then?”

  It was the last thing Mia wanted. Nevertheless, there now had to be a new pair introduced into the marriage, and it was the obligation of the parents to bring along three suitable candidates for their consideration. The final decision would be taken by the Voices at the Ring, advised by the Gods, but Hurst and Mia could propose their own choice. The Karninghold Slave had talked at some length on the matter, suggesting what characteristics they should look for, and what pairings might be approved, and Hurst had tentatively raised the subject with Mia himself.

  “I know it seems very early to be thinking about it,” he said as they sat opposite each other after meat. “I can hardly grasp what’s happened yet myself. It’s less than a year since Tella died, by the Gods. But the alternative is to break, and we don’t want that. Well, I certainly don’t.”

  Mia shook her head.

  “No. Well, that means we’ll have to think about it, and quite soon. But we’ll have plenty of choice, six men and three women. Something likely should emerge from that.”

  The three candidates brought by Jonnor’s father were a range of ages. He had no idea of their abilities or personalities, and laughingly left his wife to introduce them. The first two were blandly unmemorable but the third son was a shock. He was twenty, and could almost have been Jonnor’s twin. He was a little shorter, perhaps, and more well-built around the chest, but the softly curling hair was the same, and many facial characteristics were reminiscent of Jonnor, even if not quite the same. Mia shuddered, and hoped she would not have to spend the rest of her life looking across the table at a man who reminded her so forcibly of her dead husband.

  ~~~

  Drantior and Missandra had stayed on, although Mia was not sure whether they were being helpful or were covertly observing the rituals as part of their research. You never knew with scholars. They were very useful with the children, and one or other of them was constantly in the family hall joining in their hiding games, entertaining them by drawing pictures, telling stories, or simply cuddling one or other who had been hurt.

  Hurst wanted to tell the two scholars what they had seen in the funeral tower, in the hope that they knew something – some detail from their historical research – that would explain it. Mia was reluctant at first, but she was as desperate as he was to talk to someone about it, so she agreed.

  They all met in Gantor’s library, Missandra with baby Jinnia on her knee. Hurst told the whole story – how Mia had seen something after Tella’s death, and how they had both watched this time, and seen people moving about. Then he told them about the vapour pipes for the blue lights and the maintenance tunnels for them, so that there was very likely a way in to the funeral tower from below.

  “Oh, there are tunnels all over the plains,” said Drantior. “Well, pipes, anyway. Mostly for drainage. It was all swamp at one time, you know, lots of swamp everywhere, so it had to be drained. The builders put pipes in all over the place. But there are rumours of tunnels you can walk through.”

  “Rumours?” Hurst said, surprised. “I thought you would know about that, at least. Building is your speciality, isn’t it?”

  “One of them, yes.” Drantior looked embarrassed. “Look, you have to understand that the whole Ring is a whirlpool of rumours, and especially our bit of it. The scholars’ hall. We have a lot of historical documents there – papers, books, artefacts – but it’s all a jumble, and we don’t have much time to do research. And things disappear. Some of the older scholars remember things. One said he’d seen maps of the tunnels; the walking tunnels, he called them. They went all over, he said, and they had proper air vents and everything. But years later, someone asked about the maps and he said they’d gone. They just weren’t there anymore. That happens all the time. So some things are just rumours.”

  “Air vents,” Hurst said, brow furrowed in thought. “What would an air vent look like?”

  “Towers, he said they were, but… well, it was a long time ago. I can’t say now whether there’s any truth in it.”

  “Godstowers,” Gantor said. “Always wondered what they were for, but that would make sense – ventilation for tunnels below.”

  “So someone could get into the funeral tower?” Mia said. “It would be possible to get into the tunnels, somehow, and then get into the funeral tower, without the Silent Guards knowing anything about it.”

  “Get in? Yes,” said Missandra. “And get out, too. I’ve always thought it bizarre, actually, to burn the Companions. This would be better – no poison for them, just send people in shortly before dawn, take them down into the tunnels and off somewhere to safety.”

  “But where would they go?” Hurst said. “What would happen to them?”

  “Oh, a new life somewhere,” Missandra said vaguely. “Who knows? Better than being dead, surely.”

  “But they have to die,” Mia said, scandalised. “They have to help the Karningholder in the Life Beyond Death.”

  “Life here and now is better,” Missandra said with a shrug. “The known life is always better. There now – we’ve bored Jinnia to sleep. Isn’t she sweet? Such lovely curls, even if they’re an odd colour.”

  ~~~

  Mia hardly knew what to make of it. She could not believe that the Companions had survived, for everyone knew they had to die with the Karningholder, but there was no time to thin
k about the possibilities. Every day had its share of rituals and routine, visitors came and went, and she had little enough time to herself. But every evening she and Hurst withdrew to the high tower to share their meat, and that gave her a respite from the pressures.

  Despite all that had happened, she felt comfortable with Hurst. He had never been other than polite and considerate towards her, and he treated her now exactly as he had before. Marginally more formally, perhaps, but nothing to make her uneasy. In fact, she felt almost too settled with him. There had always been a restfulness to their brief times alone, without Jonnor, and sometimes now she could almost feel she was back in those days when Hurst was no more than a good friend. When she was with him, she almost forgot that Jonnor was dead and burned.

  There was one matter nagging at the back of her mind. Sooner or later, she knew, Hurst would want to come to her bed. He had not mentioned the subject, not even in the most obscure, roundabout way. There wasn’t so much as a touch or a glance which might suggest that the thought had even crossed his mind, but she knew the problem would have to be addressed eventually.

  She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about it. She grieved for Jonnor, of course, she missed him unbearably, but there was no doubt that sex with him had never been terribly enjoyable for her. Whereas Hurst… well, that was something else altogether. She surprised herself, actually, by thinking about it at all, and sometimes at night she lay awake thinking of his gentle hands and his passionate kisses. Especially his kisses.

  So to set her mind at rest, she raised the subject herself. He regarded her solemnly as she stumblingly asked whether he was waiting for the month of mourning to end, or was there perhaps some other time he had in mind?

  “What are your wishes on the matter?” he asked politely.

  “I – well, it’s for you to decide, isn’t it?”

  “Technically, perhaps, but I would never do anything you disliked.” They had finished their meat, and were sitting over a glass of wine. He reached for the decanter and refilled his glass. “Mia, I’m glad you’ve brought the subject up. I’ve been wondering how to broach it myself. But honestly, I don’t know when the time will be right. Maybe never.”

  “Oh. But isn’t that why…?”

  “Partly, but it wasn’t the only reason. It was more to do with Jonnor, really.”

  “Oh.” She found it hard to understand. He had told her that he wanted her, he had said he loved her, yet now it seemed he would go back to the days when they slept in adjoining rooms but never so much as kissed.

  “Mia,” he said, reaching across the table to take her hand, “I can’t imagine what you must be feeling just now. I’ve put you in a horrible position, and I know you must hate me, but…”

  “I don’t hate you!” she said, startled.

  “Don’t you?” There was a flash of something in his eyes – was it hope? He was pleased, certainly.

  “Of course I don’t.” And it was true, she realised. She had been upset about the blue arrows and of course she grieved for Jonnor, but she had never hated Hurst for what he had done. He had his reasons, and she had some inkling of the way Jonnor had treated him over the years.

  “I know it’s for me to make these decisions,” he said slowly, “but I don’t wish to press you. So I’m leaving it up to you to decide. You come to me whenever you want to. However long that takes. But it’s your choice.”

  “Don’t you care?” she said, with a spurt of anger, pulling her hand away. Hadn’t he killed Jonnor for access to her? Yet now he seemed to be turning away from her.

  “Of course I care,” he spat back. “What do you think I am? D’you think I just used you as an excuse? But I know how much you loved Jonnor, and I’m not going to rush things. I can wait until you’re ready to come to me.”

  “And what if I’m never ready?”

  He hesitated then, picked up his wineglass and stared at it, then put it down again.

  “I think you will be,” he said flatly. “Eventually.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I’m reasonably sure.”

  “Why?” She was angry with him now. Who was he to presume to know her mind better than she did herself?

  “Two reasons,” he said with irritating calmness. “Firstly, it’s your duty to sleep with the lead husband, and you always do your duty, Mia. And secondly, I know you want a child.”

  “Maybe I’m already pregnant. Have you thought of that?”

  “You’re not,” he said.

  “How can you possibly know that? I don’t know myself!”

  “Because if it were my child, it would be obvious by now, and Jonnor…” There was a long pause, while he looked away from her. Then he lifted his head and looked her straight in the eye.

  “Because Jonnor was incapable of siring a child.”

  20: Candidates (Hurst)

  Hurst saw the disbelief in her eyes. He had always known this would be difficult, but he supposed she had to learn it sooner or later.

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” she said. “Jonnor had three children.”

  She jumped up and started collecting platters and bowls, and carrying them across to the lifter. He got up to help, and for a while they worked in silence, weaving past each other. Even in her anger, she was neat, precise in her movements. There was no banging of pots or clashing of spoons. But when everything was tidied away to her satisfaction, the table wiped, the used crocks sent down to the kitchen in the lifter, she set a bowl of tiny cakes on the table and sat down again. He sat too, and poured a little more wine into her glass, although she had hardly touched it.

  “So how do you know this?” she said, and her voice was calm and level.

  “Tella told me,” he said, trying to answer in the same tone. It wasn’t easy. He knew she would be hurt by it, and would certainly think badly of Tella as a result, and of him too, perhaps. But it couldn’t be helped. “She came to me when we’d been married close to two years. She said that she and Jonnor had been doing their duty – those were her words – on a regular basis, but… no baby. She asked if I would help out.”

  “You slept with her?” Mia was open-mouthed with astonishment.

  “Yes. Jonnor was off at the lines for a week or more, she thought the timing was right, so… yes, I slept with her. And it worked. She had Tellon. For a while, two or three years at least, she invited me into her bed quite regularly. Not for a baby – it was just sex, she told me that. But then she got restless, I don’t know why, maybe she was bored with me, but anyway, it all stopped. After that, she was away a lot. She didn’t want another baby, she hated not being able to ride, hated the whole business, but she was under pressure to have her three – both from Jonnor and from the Slaves. I think – I’m not sure about this, I’m just going by hints – but I think she wanted Jonnor to try with you, but he wouldn’t, of course.”

  “He loved her, he never wanted me,” she said in a low voice.

  “So then she had an affair with Jonnor’s father, and…”

  “What!”

  “It’s true. I think it went on for a while, actually. When we first moved here, he was only on the fourth line then, but really close. I think they used to meet halfway. Even when he moved to fifth, it went on. Jaslia is his, she told me that. But Jinnia – I have no idea where that hair came from. I don’t know anyone with hair that colour, do you?”

  But she was too shocked to speak.

  “Everyone assumed it was Gantor or Walst,” he went on, “since they both have blond hair, but it wasn’t them. It wasn’t any of the Companions. Surely you must have wondered too?” he added gently.

  She was silent for a long time, then she sighed. “Did Jonnor know? He was so proud of Tellon when he was born.”

  “I don’t think he knew then, but I suspect – well, it’s just a guess, really – I think he knew later. I suppose she must have told him. Their rows were always volatile, there was bound to come a time when she threw that in his face.”

 
He got up and paced across the room. “I don’t think he realised it was me, though. Tella told him I’d slept with her, but he didn’t believe it. If he’d guessed, he’d have let me know it. He wasn’t a man to keep such things to himself.”

  He wondered for a moment if he’d gone too far, but she just nodded.

  He sat down again, sipping his wine. “He stopped taking any interest in Tellon, do you remember that? And I suppose he must have wondered about Jaslia and Jinnia. Especially Jinnia. That was why…”

  He stopped, not sure how much he should say, but she was watching him calmly now, thoughtful.

  “That was why he was so keen to keep you to himself these last few months,” he said. “Because of Tella. Because he wanted children he could be sure were his.”

  She nodded slowly, taking the idea in.

  “Poor Jonnor,” she said sadly.

  ~~~

  Hurst was surprised to find that he rather enjoyed the business of finding a new pair for the marriage. It was a wonderful distraction, and it gave him something to talk about in the evenings alone with Mia, which might otherwise have been a bit tense. She had not followed Jonnor’s path in moping about, or weeping copiously, and although she was very pale, there were no other signs of the grief she must be feeling. In fact, she was remarkably composed, and carried out the duties of the period of mourning without obvious signs of distress. He could only guess what it must cost her to keep her feelings under such control.

  Once or twice it crossed his mind that perhaps she was not quite as grief-stricken as he might have expected, and he wondered whether her deepest feelings for Jonnor coincided with the time when he was with Tella, and therefore an unattainable ideal. The reality of Jonnor as husband left something to be desired, perhaps. But then she had been in love with him for a long time; her grief must run very deep, even if she hid it well.

  Jonnor’s parents left, but the three young men, candidates for the marriage, would stay for the whole month of mourning and a full month after that, so that Hurst and Mia could get to know them well enough to make a choice, and also to see if any natural pairings emerged from amongst the youngsters. Hurst was not allowed to do any training himself, nor were his Companions, but the three candidates were not merely allowed but expected to show off their skills. They were being selected, after all, to man the boundary lines during skirmishes, so it was essential to choose one who was at least competent.