The Plains of Kallanash

by Pauline M. Ross

  Hurst found it rather pleasant to spend his afternoons standing in a huddle with Gantor, Trimon and Walst at the side of the training ground, whispering disparaging remarks about the three possibilities. Sometimes they took them off to Gantor’s little room and quizzed them about skirmish strategies and battle history. None of them did very well, but then they were much like Jonnor had been, rather good looking and aware of it, charming and personable, but not terribly ambitious. Hurst wasn’t bothered. He had his own plan in mind, and none of these three featured in it.

  Mia’s mother was not well enough to travel, and her father chose to stay at home too, but one of her uncles came instead, with one of the younger wives, and brought three female prospects for the marriage. Two were sisters of Mia’s, but Mia didn’t know them very well. It always surprised Hurst that women brought up under the same roof for fifteen years could be virtual strangers.

  Brothers, in his experience, tended to spend their childhood in one giant roving band, playing with wooden swords, miniature bows and any piece of wood long enough to stand as spear or stave. The younger ones underwent a great deal of ritual humiliation and beating up at the hands of the older, and became in time the ones handing out the beatings. The process was not substantially different under the scholars, or even as adults, just ritualised into tests, tournaments and skirmishes. It gave all the brothers a close bond which stood them in good stead for their professional lives.

  Sisters, it seemed, were different. They tended to fall into groupings of two or three, and had very little to do with those outside their own little clan. Mia only knew the two sisters slightly, and they seemed not to know each other very well, either. It led to a certain amount of competition between them, and any comment he or Mia made to one or the other, especially if complimentary, brought a triumphant smirk from the one and a glower from the other. Hurst thought them both very tedious.

  The third candidate was a cousin of Mia’s, and that was unusual in itself. Almost always, a marriage was composed of brothers on one side and sisters on the other. Bringing in a cousin was regarded as something of a desperate measure, only done if there were no likely siblings, as it had been for him and Jonnor, since neither of them had had brothers of suitable age qualified to be Karningholders. But Henissa was rather a good choice, he thought. She was twenty – old enough to have seen a little of life, but not so old that anyone would suspect her of grasping at any likely prospect. She was not as pretty as the other two, and, being rather large for a woman, not as daintily elegant as his beloved Mia. She had a quiet intelligence, however, and he discovered soon enough that she could play crowns rather handily.

  As before, Hurst’s own father was the last of the official mourners to arrive. As soon as he had Hurst alone, Tanist congratulated him on ‘dealing with the Jonnor problem’ as he put it.

  “You will go on much better now, you know, just you and Mia. You’ll be in control, as you always should have been. This is much the best way, you’ll see.”

  Hurst wasn’t quite as confident as his father, so he just said, “I’m glad it’s over, at least.”

  “I’m sure. It must have been unpleasant, for a while. But it’s over and done with, that’s the main thing. Now we can look to the future. And I’ve done as you asked. Good choices, I must say.”

  Hurst had taken the precaution of writing to his father as soon as he asked for the blue arrows, suggesting three of his brothers as possibilities to join the marriage, whether to replace Jonnor or himself. He knew that when one or other of them fell, there would be little time to consider the options, especially for his father. Since he lived away on the western border, he would have to leave immediately to reach the Karning before the end of the month of mourning and would have no time to do more than scoop up whichever of his brothers happened to be there at the time. As it happened, Tanist had been mulling over possibilities ever since Tella died in the hope that things would come to blue arrows in the end. He was not a man to be taken by surprise.

  All three brothers were proven Skirmishers, but one in particular appealed to Hurst. Twenty-three year old Bernast was one of the few to follow Hurst’s own career path, and spend some time with his father on the border. It meant he had already proved himself in battle, an incomparable advantage for the day Hurst hoped would come eventually, when he himself reached the border.

  In the event, Bernast and Henissa took an instant liking to each other. The ages and personalities were a good match, and Mia liked both of them, too. All the candidates would stay the full month, for it would be useful experience for them, but the matter was as good as settled.

  ~~~

  Hurst was rather pleased with the way things had turned out. He had just one thing bothering him at the moment, and it was the one he had told Mia he was quite relaxed about. Almost as soon as the month of mourning was over, and the normal routine resumed, he found himself increasingly restless for sex. The skirmishes were restarting soon, and he began to feel that it would not be sensible to leave for the lines without some kind of release. He often went to the guardhouse in such circumstances, and took advantage of the guards’ nightwomen, but with all the Skirmishers based at the Karninghold for the mourning period, there would be long queues there and he was disinclined for the usual riotous atmosphere that prevailed.

  So he decided he would ask Mia’s Companions to help him out, as they were obliged to do. He had no choice in which of them it would be, but one or other of them would take care of him, as they had done many times in the past. He was deep in his own thoughts on the matter, wondering whether it would be Mista or Marna who came, and rather hoping it would be Mista, so he simply got up after meat and headed for the stairs.

  “Going out?” Mia asked, looking up from her book.

  “Oh… um… yes.”

  “The guardhouse? They have some musicians in tonight, don’t they?”

  He hesitated, rather torn. It would be so easy to say something non-committal, and leave her to think he was just going to share a jug of ale with the guards and Skirmishers. Or he could lie outright, and tell her he was going down to see Gantor, Trimon and Walst. But something held him back. If she asked him tomorrow how the music was, he would be in a difficult position. He really didn’t want to lie to her, however trivial it might be. And somewhere at the back of his mind was the thought that it wouldn’t hurt to remind her that he was a man with needs. So he stopped at the head of the stairs.

  “No, actually. I’m going down to see your Companions.”

  He saw puzzlement cross her face, and then she suddenly understood, and blushed.

  “I’ll be back in a while,” he said, and turned to go.

  “No, wait,” she said, standing up. “Don’t go.”

  “Well, if you dislike the idea… but it’s part of their job, you know.”

  “It’s my job too.”

  He turned and took a couple of paces towards her.

  “Mia… I’m not trying to push you into anything. I want you to be ready.”

  “I am ready. At least, I’ll never be more ready than I am now.”

  He walked slowly towards her. “That’s not quite the same thing.”

  He stopped, near enough to reach out and touch her, but he kept his arms firmly at his sides. His heart was pumping in his chest, and he thought perhaps he was trembling.

  “Hurst, I have to do this sooner or later. This is as good a time as any.”

  It wasn’t exactly the declaration he had hoped for, but it was an offer he was incapable of refusing. He reached for her now, running one finger gently down her face.

  She looked up at him, her face paler than usual, he thought. Was she afraid of him? Surely not. He cupped her cheek in one hand and softly kissed her mouth. And oh glory, she kissed him back. How he had missed her!

  He wasn’t aware of moving at all, but she was held tight in his arms suddenly, and they were kissing with all the passion of that night she had surprised him in his room. When they broke free
, they were both panting.

  She giggled then. “I’m more ready than I’d thought.”

  He laughed too, and kissed her again. “Shall we go to bed?”

  “Mmm.”

  “Yours or mine?” he said.

  “May I come to you?”

  “Of course.”

  It wasn’t quite the night of unrestrained passion he had dreamed of; there were too many memories for both of them, too many awkward moments, and afterwards, curled in his arms, she cried a little and then went to her own room. But it was a start.

  After that she came to him quite regularly, not every night when he was home but often enough. He never went to her; somehow he never felt able to do that. It was his punishment, perhaps, for taking Jonnor away from her. He deserved to suffer.

  So each night he waited in hope, and sometimes he waited in vain, aching for her in the dark, and sometimes he had the joy of an hour with her in his arms. Then she would leave. That distressed him more than anything else, that she wouldn’t stay with him. No matter how passionate their loving was, she always left him alone and empty.

  Then one morning he woke to find her beside him.

  “You came back,” he said, stroking her hair. “You came back to me. Thank you!”

  He held her in his arms and, as much to his surprise as hers, wept softly.

  “I was lonely without you,” she said simply. “And my room reminds me of him. I’ll have to change the furnishings again.”

  After that, she came to him every night and stayed with him, and he began to feel that things were coming right at last. His love in his arms, the skirmishes to keep him busy and the new pair chosen.

  Before too long there was a definite hope for the future, for Mia was pregnant. It felt as if the turbulence of the past year was finally behind them.

  It was not entirely true, though. The deaths of Tella and Jonnor had left loose threads which niggled at the back of his mind. The figures in the funeral tower were not easy to explain, but were perhaps connected with the mysterious tunnels. Then there was Tella’s note to Mia, which suggested she foresaw her own death. And had the Slaves had a hand in Jonnor’s death?

  “Have you told Mia about that?” Gantor said one day as they sat in his library. “That the Slaves might have finished Jonnor off?”

  “No, and I don’t intend to. Gods, she doesn’t need that to complicate things. Besides – we don’t know for sure. Let’s leave her memories unsullied by suspicions about the Slaves. She believes in everything they say, implicitly. I don’t want to deprive her of that.”

  “Even though you don’t believe it yourself?”

  “I don’t know what I believe,” Hurst said seriously. “In the Gods? Perhaps. But the Slaves and the Voices and the Servants? I’m not sure I trust them.”

  “I’m sure I don’t,” Gantor said. “I ought to be horrified at the idea that they might have poisoned Jonnor, but I find it all too plausible. And here’s another thought for you. If the Slaves administer the poison that causes the mark of the Gods, what about Tella? Was she killed by Slaves too?”

  ~~~

  Bernast and Henissa went home to choose their Companions and returned for the discovery month, when they still slept in the guest hall but otherwise spent their days with Hurst and Mia, doing everything that they did. Bernast and his Companions trained each afternoon and went on skirmishes with Hurst, while Henissa and hers helped with Karning business and got to know the children. In the evenings, they ate meat together in the high tower.

  The objective was to find out if they were all compatible, and if so to settle the arrangement that would apply. With a new marriage, the parents would be there too, to make sure everything was properly done. For a new pair added to an existing marriage, however, Hurst and Mia were left to make their own decisions. Of course, there were really no decisions to make, for Hurst and Mia would be together, and Bernast and Henissa would be together and upstairs right from the start. Hurst was not going to ask anyone to suffer as he had for years. They were in love, that much was clear. Almost from the moment they met, the two had been drawn to each other, and their joy was infectious.

  At the end of the discovery month, there was a ceremony in the temple and Bernast and Henissa became the second husband and second wife, receiving a new tattoo on the back of each left hand, to match the one on the right which marked them as Highers. The first evening, Hurst and Mia diplomatically made to leave after meat, to give the two time alone together, but Henissa laughed and called them back.

  “No need to go,” she said. “We didn’t actually wait all this time, you know.”

  Hurst had wondered quite how it would be, having two couples upstairs. He had found it so painful lying in the dark alone listening to Jonnor with Mia, but it was a different matter hearing the sounds of love when Mia was right there in his arms. He found he could bear it very well. What with sex and the skirmishes and the prospect of a baby, Hurst was very content with life. He would almost dare to describe himself as happy.

  And so the summer wore away, and in time he stopped thinking about Tella and Jonnor altogether. That was all in the past, and he preferred to live in the happier present.

  21: The Field (Mia)

  Mia was hearing petitions when she first felt the baby move.

  Outside the great hall, the rain poured down, and inside the stone floor was spattered with muddy puddles. Rush mats had been laid at the entrance, but still everyone dripped and shivered. The petitioners on benches around the walls awaiting their hearing looked miserable, her Companions looked bored, the lawyers looked – well, the lawyers looked as they always did, stern and disapproving. The motionless guards were as inscrutable as ever. Mia herself was cold. She was always cold in the great hall, even in summer. Even Henissa was fidgeting and it was only her second petitions day.

  And then, there was the tiniest little fluttering inside her, quickly over but unmistakeable. She tried very hard not to smile, for the petition being read to her was a serious one, not a matter for mirth, and the petitioners might be offended. Nevertheless, it lifted her spirits so that the morning flew by.

  Mia spent the afternoon stillness alone that day. Hurst and Bernast were away at the lines, and Henissa asked if she might spend the hour with one of her Companions, who was recovering from a bad spirit. They had all four of them been afflicted with bad spirits, but then the transition from the hot northern border to the damp misery of the south-east was a difficult one, as Mia herself knew all too well.

  She never minded being alone. She rarely went to bed in the afternoons. She would sit with her feet up on one of the sofas, reading a book or lost in happy thoughts of the baby growing inside her. She had never thought of herself as unfulfilled before, but pregnancy brought her a deep satisfaction. Being a mother was a great deal more to her than a duty.

  Not like poor Tella. She had always hated being pregnant, hated giving birth, hated the dreadful messy aftermath of blood and leaking milk. She was always relieved when the statutory three months were over and she could hand the baby over to a wet-nurse and start riding again. Mia found herself thinking a great deal about Tella lately. It was partly being pregnant, she supposed. Finally she had something in common with her sister.

  Partly, too, it was because she was trying not to think about Jonnor, who had died in her arms in the mud and rain, at the end of that traumatic outbreak of violence in the marriage. She couldn’t bear to remember it.

  It was not grief that overwhelmed her, that was the worst of it. Rather it was her lack of grief that bothered her most. She had cried, of course. She had been devastated when he died. She had wondered how she could possibly find any pleasure in her life afterwards.

  But somehow she had. Almost, it seemed, his death had been a relief. She had realised, in those first few days afterwards, that what she felt most was a sense of release. It was as if she had been holding her breath and now the pressure, the tension, had gone.

  And the fear. She hard
ly dared admit it to herself, but she had been a little afraid of him. He had traumatised her and used her and hit her, and even though he had been more considerate latterly, there was always that corner of her mind that wondered if it might happen again.

  So she tried not to think about Jonnor, and Hurst helped in that respect. When she was with him, she could forget all the troubles of the past year.

  Oddly, she found that he too was avoiding thoughts of Jonnor. Once or twice he had started to say something, some story about a skirmish, perhaps, or something from the training grounds, and then the words would tail off and after a pause he would change the subject.

  One day she said to him, “You know, you can talk about him if you want. You don’t have to step around the subject.”

  They were sitting over the greater crowns board during a stillness, and he paused, crown in hand, to look at her. “I don’t want to upset you,” he said.

  “It doesn’t bother me, not any more. I like to talk about him, actually. If we never mention him, it’s almost as if he didn’t exist.”

  “Are you sure? It’s not so long since…”

  “Since he died. I know.” She was calm, she found. “I was upset at the time, naturally, but I’ve come to terms with it now. He’s gone, he and Tella have both gone, they’re with the Gods in the Life Beyond Death.”

  He was silent, so she continued, “Do you know what comforts me most? They were both chosen by the Gods, they didn’t just die through random accident, the Gods chose them for some special purpose.”

  She leaned forward. “And they were not alone. We were both with Jonnor when he was taken, and whatever happened to Tella, one of Those who Serve the Gods would have been with her to comfort her, to make sure she wasn’t afraid. You could see they both died by the Gods’ grace – look how peaceful they were in death. They didn’t look dead at all, it was just as if they were asleep. The Gods kept them perfect, just as they were in life.”