Firewalk

by Anne Logston

  “Don’t worry,” he whispered back. “I’m told we only have to do this two mornings in each sevenday. We’ll sit a bit oftener, though, until some of this backlog is cleared up.”

  Unfamiliar with Agrondish law, Kayli preferred to sit quietly and nod at Randon’s judgments; several times she noticed that if she’d ruled by Bregondish principles, the result would have been quite different. Near noon, however, a case arose which interested her. Two lords had come with a dispute over a large area of land which included a good-sized town and many farms. Each had brought surveys, maps, and deeds to prove their claim, and a spokesman from the town had come, too.

  After studying the documents, it was plain that a simple mistake had been made long ago when the course of a river which had marked the division of the lands had been diverted to irrigate the farms. By Agrondish law, both lords had a legal claim to the land. The dispute had never been resolved, but the two noble houses had shared governorship of the land and the town, dividing the taxes and harvest times equally. Because of last year’s poor harvest, however, the land had yielded little income to the lords and the previously amiable disagreement had dissolved into hostility.

  Randon was stymied, but Kayli had heard at the Order of a similar case, and she gestured to the townsman to come forward.

  “Until now, both houses have shared in the income provided by your farms,” Kayli said. “How have they shared in their responsibilities? Who provided protection for the people?”

  “Lord Ethen and Lord Reive have always divided the duty, High Lady,” the man said a little hesitantly. “But last year’s harvest was poor, as they’ve said, and when we couldn’t pay the taxes due, Lord Reive withdrew his men.”

  “But Lord Ethen’s guards have continued to protect the village?” Kayli asked.

  “Yes, High Lady.” The man hesitated almost imperceptibly before speaking the title.

  “Then, Lord Ethen, the lands and town are yours,” Kayli said, inclining her head to the lord. “Duty is not the servant of profit, and a lord who will not protect his lands and people in poverty as well as plenty does not deserve to hold them. The deeds and title to the land will be rewritten accordingly.”

  Lord Ethen and Lord Reive glanced from Kayli to Randon and back again, and for an anxious moment Kayli thought Lord Reive would protest, but at last both lords bowed and turned silently away, and she breathed a silent sigh of relief.

  “You may have won us an ally,” Randon murmured as the lords took their papers to the court scribe. “Lord Ethen is influential with other nobility in the area, and he’s always supported Terralt.”

  “And Lord Reive?” Kayli asked as quietly.

  “Well, he supported Terralt, too,” Randon admitted. “But to tell you the truth, I think you impressed him a bit. As you did me,” he added. “That case had me puzzled.”

  His praise warmed Kayli’s heart, and the reception of her first decision as High Lady of Agrond bolstered her confidence. For the remainder of the morning she took a more active role in judging the cases brought before them. When the servants closed the doors for dinner, however, Kayli was vastly relieved, surprised to discover how tense and anxious she’d been.

  She was surprised, too, when Terralt joined them at the table for dinner.

  “I sat at the back and watched most of the hearings,” he said between bites of roast fowl. “Not bad for your first audience, although I doubt the clenched hands and white knuckles impressed anyone.”

  “I’m sure it reassured them to know that I didn’t take my judgments casually,” Randon said, grinning. “I’ll be satisfied if I ever become accustomed to the job enough that every new case doesn’t set my stomach to twisting. I think Kayli has more talent for this sort of thing than I do.”

  Terralt glanced up from his plate, his eyes twinkling mockingly.

  “I’d be inclined to agree,” he said.

  Randon, however, refused to take offense.

  “Then you’ll have to teach me,” he said to Kayli. “Laws vary from land to land, but justice at least remains constant.”

  “Or injustice,” Terralt muttered, but Kayli chose to ignore the remark.

  “I promised Kayli a ride in the country, and I believe I’ll take her this afternoon,” Randon said at last. “The Bright Ones know we could use a little fresh air. Would you care to come, Terralt?”

  “Thank you, no,” Terralt said, shaking his head resignedly. “Maybe you can spend an afternoon in idleness, Randon, but I can’t. You gave me those figures to check against the stores, remember? And then Lord Ethen and Lord Reive have invited me to supper while they’re in town.”

  “Well, that should be pleasant,” Randon said, chuckling. “If they’re speaking to each other at all after this morning’s judgment, that is.”

  “It’s a pity the quarrel ever had to come this far,” Terralt said, shrugging. “Their houses have lived in peace for generations.” He turned to Kayli. “If you’d simply ordered Lord Reive to live up to his half of the responsibility for those lands, the town would’ve been that much better off and both lords would’ve walked away smiling. Reive’s son was due to wed Ethen’s daughter this summer anyway, so that would’ve solved the whole problem. Now the wedding will likely be canceled, at least until Reive stops sulking, which may take a year or two.”

  Terralt’s statement troubled Kayli deeply. Suddenly she was ashamed of her pride in her decision. She’d made a judgment without knowing all the facts, and the peace between two noble houses would suffer for it.

  “Terralt, Kayli hasn’t had time to toss sweetmeats to the nobility, as you have,” Randon said patiently. “She’d hardly be expected to know the family situation of every noble house in Agrond, or even to remember them in her first audience if she did. The Bright Ones know I didn’t know about the wedding, so it’s hardly common knowledge. And you can lay a fair share of the blame on yourself, too. Lady Aville came up to advise me on points of law at least a dozen times; you could’ve put a quiet word in Kayli’s ear or mine, and we’d have thanked you for it.”

  “Really?” Terralt drawled. “I thought you wanted me to keep my mouth shut except by your express invitation.”

  Randon set down his goblet and faced Terralt squarely.

  “If it gives you pleasure to exercise your spite in silence and inaction, do so,” he said levelly. “But don’t come to me or Kayli later and blame us for not possessing information you could have—should have—given us. Kayli, if you’ve finished your supper, I suggest we go. I’m suddenly inclined to leave Terralt to his figures and his social maneuvers.”

  Kayli felt it wisest that she not intervene this time between Randon and Terralt, so she said nothing, only followed Randon quietly back to their rooms, where she changed into her riding clothes. When she emerged from the dressing room, Randon had already donned a simple tunic and trousers.

  “I had to arrange for guards to ride with us,” he said ruefully. “I never needed them when I was only Terendal’s ne’er-do-well younger son. Now, though, as High Lord presumptive, it’s not safe for me to ride out alone, especially if you’re with me, I’m afraid. Well, I see you’re ready. Why don’t you help me saddle the mare—Carada, I think you called her—and I can try her paces.”

  Maja was glad to see Kayli, and Randon handled Carada so confidently that Kayli was certain the mare would give him no trouble. He had a little difficulty with the high Bregondish saddle, and it took him a little practice to master the long single rein and the foot and knee commands Kayli showed him, but at last he got himself settled comfortably.

  Kayli was a little dismayed by the size of their escort—there were eight guards, all fully armed and armored—but she fairly trembled to get out of the walled castle and see Agrond, to feel fresh wind through her hair. Maja danced in her eagerness to stretch her legs, and it was with some impatience that Kayli fell in behind the four guards riding in front of her and Randon.

  When the palace gates opened, Kayli thought eagerly
that she’d get a good look at Tarkesh, but although they emerged into the city, the guards turned quickly, almost hastily, onto a small side road which reached one of the city gates in a surprisingly short time. Even the brief glimpse of Tarkesh, however, impressed her with the vast size of the city. Most of the buildings were of wood, which in itself was a wonder; Bregondish buildings were made of bricks of mud and dried grass or, less frequently, of stone. There was an amazing proliferation here of businesses, both shops and mobile vendors hawking their wares from small stands, carts, or baskets. Kayli stared at the unfamiliar fruits and vegetables so longingly that Randon could do nothing but call the whole procession to a halt and buy her a small basket of bright red berries to nibble as they rode. The merchant would not accept Randon’s coin, only smiling proudly as he pressed the basket into Randon’s hand, but he gave Kayli a glance that was far less friendly. As they rode on, Kayli saw a good many more hostile expressions, some directed at Randon but more at her. Perhaps Randon had spoken the simple truth about the dangers of riding through the city.

  The guards at the gate seemed surprised to see their High Lord arrive unexpectedly in his riding clothes, but they opened the gates, and Kayli sighed with relief. Somehow she’d half expected to be confined to the city, just as the citizens of the city seemed determined to keep her prisoner in the castle.

  Before her stretched the fields of Agrond, and Kayli could only sit silently gaping for a moment, awed by all that green just as she had been when she’d first left Bregond. But this was not wild, unsettled lands; these were the famed fields of Agrond, lush and green and tall already, even though it was only the end of spring, and all that greenness would one day be food. Kayli was astounded by the sheer enormity of it all. It seemed incomprehensible that she could be utterly surrounded by food. Why, surely what she was looking at alone could feed most of Bregond through the cold season!

  “Impressive, isn’t it?” Randon said, interrupting her thoughts. “And that’s just the first harvest of the year. We’ll get another in mid-autumn if the weather’s good.”

  “Two harvests?” Kayli said, very quietly. “You can grow all this food from this land and harvest twice in a year?”

  Randon chuckled.

  “We can thank Bregond and Sarkond for that, although the farmers seldom do,” he said. “The worst of the weather seems to vent its fury on your plains and Sarkond’s foothills and moderates before it reaches us. Flooding’s a bigger problem.”

  She could well imagine. Everywhere she looked there were small streams or large streams, muddy or running clear over gravel. She wondered if she’d ever seen so much water at one time in her life, except possibly the stormy night she’d fled with Terralt across Agrond. To Bregondish plainsfolk, all this water was a treasure even greater than the fields.

  “It is beautiful,” she admitted. “But, Randon, where can you possibly hunt in all this settlement?”

  “We’ll be out of the fields very shortly,” he told her. “As soon as we cross the Coridowyn, there are no more farms; because of the levees on this side, the land floods too often there, so it’s clear riding all the way to the forest.”

  They passed fields and more fields, and it shocked Kayli to the depths of her spirit to realize that this was only a small part of the farms around Tarkesh, and the farms around Tarkesh were only a small part of the farms throughout Agrond. What a wonderful and terrifying prospect—so much food, enough to feed a huge population, and yet a system so delicate because it depended on the whims of the weather. Why, a drought here could be even more devastating than in Bregond. Water holes and streams on the plains were few, but the plants and animals (and people) of Bregond had accustomed themselves to a harsher, drier climate.

  Kayli had looked so eagerly for the Coridowyn, hungry for her first glimpse of a real river, that she was disappointed when she finally caught sight of the thin line snaking across the land, edged with a straggly fringe of brush and saplings. The river itself was less than a dozen man-heights wide, and that, Randon told her, was as big as it usually got, due to the recent rain. The water was muddy, too, and even the plants at the river’s edge were heavily silted. Altogether it was a draggled and unimpressive sight.

  The bridge, however, more than made up for Kayli’s disappointment in the river, for it was a marvel of engineering the like of which she had never imagined. The huge stone-and-beam structure straddled the little river like a giant dipping its toes in the muddy water, and it made Kayli a little breathless to ride over it so casually. She wondered whether anyone had dared to bridge the fabled Dezarin, and when she asked Randon, she was a little chagrined to see that he laughed heartily.

  “The Dezarin? I doubt if there’s enough stone in the country for that task,” he said. “And anything we built would wash away like twigs at the first flood. Nobody even lives too close to the Dezarin, for she bursts out of her banks regularly and sweeps away everything she touches. Someday I’ll take you to meet the lady herself. I’m sure you’ll find her far more interesting than this little whelp.”

  When they crossed the river, true to Randon’s word, there were no more farms or fields, only open land and, far ahead, the dark green fuzz of a forest. But this was no plain such as Kayli had known all her life; this was what Agrond called open country, full of brush and wildflowers and low-growing green things. A thousand new fragrances overwhelmed Kayli’s nose.

  Randon leaned over so he could speak to her softly.

  “These guards have been leading long enough,” he said, grinning. “Want to see if they can keep up with us?”

  Kayli smiled back and, without replying, gave Maja’s sides a gentle squeeze with her knees, leaning forward as she did so. Maja immediately launched herself forward, full out, passing the guards as if they were stones at the roadside; to her delight, Randon was not far behind her. Kayli laughed at the shouts that faded with gratifying rapidity behind her. Even Randon gradually lost ground, as Maja had a lead and Kayli was a lighter load. At last, however, she heard him calling her, and she signaled Maja to slow and stop, letting Randon catch up.

  “Remind me never to race you again,” he said, laughing. “And I thought Terralt was exaggerating when he said it was your mare dragging his along, not the other way around. But better stop for a moment. The guards are in a panic back there; their horses tired out long ago under all that weight.”

  Kayli sighed and waited for the guards to catch up, after which she and Randon received a lecture from the captain as to why the High Lord and Lady should never leave the range of the guards’ protection, and why the High Lord and Lady should never race along at such dangerous speeds anyway.

  The guards were thwarted in their overprotectiveness, however, for Randon and Kayli had several good runs over the level ground. Kayli wished wistfully for her bow, for she saw any quantity of small game, but Randon assured her that there would be many other opportunities, and someday soon they’d go boar hunting in the forest. They rode until even Maja and Carada were tired, then made their way slowly back to the castle.

  There was no time to bathe and dress before supper, so Randon had a tray sent up to their quarters and they ate just as they were, smelling of leather and horses and laughing over their meat buns and boiled tubers. After supper they had their baths, and they were not too tired to end the evening in each other’s arms in front of the fire.

  “So, our first audience,” Randon mused, stroking Kayli’s hair. “Now we’ve been through the fire.”

  “What?” His choice of phrase startled her, and she raised herself up to look at him.

  “Well, it wasn’t too bad, was it?” Randon said, not understanding. “I suppose it will get easier with time.”

  So he had viewed this morning as a sort of firewalk indeed, a proving of his worthiness. Kayli sighed, remembering that she had been denied her first firewalk. Her own worthiness had never been tested. Now that she had been Awakened, she could still make a firewalk, and would, but it would not be the same as
the wonderful, terrible ritual for which she had prepared so painstakingly, entrusting herself to the flames while, as a novice, she still had no immunity to their fiery embrace. She would have to be careless now, her concentration fail her utterly, for a firewalk to do her harm, and for that very reason, it could never mean as much to her. She would never know that moment of purest faith again.

  And Randon would never have the chance to know it at all.

  “What do you believe?” she asked him.

  “Hmmm?” Apparently surprised by the change of subject, Randon turned over to face her. “What do you mean?”

  “You speak sometimes of the Bright Ones,” she said by way of explanation. “Are they deities that you worship?”

  “Hmmm. Worship? I don’t know about that,” Randon said slowly. “We call them the Bright Sisters, too. It’s the moon and the sun, of course. By day, the sun makes the plants grow; by night, her sister the moon controls the change of the seasons. The farmers make offerings to them, and the family has a few token public rituals, but I can’t say we worship nowadays, not for a few generations, at least. What about you? You speak of fire sometimes as if you worshiped it.”

  “The Flame?” Kayli hesitated, wondering if her knowledge of Agrondish was sufficient to explain. “The Flame is not a god, not a... consciousness, in the way you speak of your Bright Ones. The Flame is a force, a power. Of all things, it was the first that came into being when the universe was born. First there was the great darkness, and in the heart of that darkness, a single spark that grew slowly into the Flame. And the Flame flung its sparks far and wide, and some of those sparks cooled and became Earth—such as our world—and from the womb of Earth, Water and Wind were born. Other sparks burned on, and in the sky we can see them, especially in the darkness of night. The sun is such a fire, giving us light and warmth. And even in our cooled world, the Flame lives in fire. A memory of it lives in stone and metal, else how could fire be struck from flint and steel? And it bums in some people, in their flesh and in their spirit, and in Bregond, those people are taught to use that power for the good of our people. We have rituals, but they are not worship, more like a—a focus of concentration, perhaps.”