by Anne Logston
“Bregondish ladies ride astride their horses, and our gowns are cut to permit this, for even on formal occasions we often ride out to hunt,” Kayli said as patiently as she could to the horrified maid. “Petticoats might be fine for court, but my thighs would soon be chafed raw in the saddle, and it would be horribly immodest, too, were I thrown from my horse.”
“Which of the girls will you want to take with you?” Endra asked abruptly, to Kayli’s dismay. She’d hoped to discuss the matter with Endra in private, for while the idea of taking any of the dainty Agrondish maids was preposterous, they’d certainly protest at being left behind.
“Well, Randon would never forgive me if I left you behind,” Kayli said at last “And I will take Seba, too, to tend the horses and assist you. But it will be a rough journey and an uncomfortable one. Food on the road will likely be poor, and I know from my own journey to Tarkesh that there are no inns on the way. So as I thought I would take only two maids, I will let them choose for themselves who will go and who will stay.” She glanced at the maids, then added, “Of course, they must be able to ride horseback, as the road is too rough for carriages and the wagons must be lightened periodically after such flooding as Agrond has had lately.”
The maids exchanged glances, and to Kayli’s relief and amusement, the Agrondish girls were more than happy to let Anida and Devra make the journey.
By the time Randon returned, the packing was complete, the trunks were carried downstairs, and a good supper awaited them. Endra glanced at Randon’s brooding expression and hurriedly shooed all the girls from the room, following them out.
Randon did not so much as glance at the supper laid out on the table, but walked directly to Kayli, gazing narrowly into her eyes.
“Is there anything,” he said, “you’d like to tell me?”
Kayli set her hands on her hips, breathing deeply to calm herself.
“Regarding what, my lord?”
“Terralt.” Randon’s eyes searched hers. “And you.”
“Then yes, there is,” Kayli said deliberately. “And it is this: For what you are thinking, you are not only a fool, but a villain as well. And that is all I have to tell you.”
Before Randon could reply, she strode past him and out of the room, slamming the door behind her with unnecessary force. For a time she was too furious to think, and her anger had carried her up the stairs to the roof battlements before she knew where she was going. Only two guards walked patrol on the roof, and when they saw their High Lady’s expression, like Endra, they chose flight as the safer course. Kayli picked a good vantage point and stared out over Tarkesh, saying nothing, but she ground her teeth till her jaws ached and clenched her hands until her nails bit into her palms.
How dared Randon suspect her of infidelity when he himself had sired at least one bastard child on his brother’s wife! How dare he think such a thing when she had left her home and ambitions behind to marry him and endangered her life—no, her very soul—to bear him the child he needed? Any offense he had ever offered her paled beside this calumny.
Yet why then did Kayli feel guilt, even through her anger? She had done nothing wrong. Nothing. Yet there was that fire when Terralt touched her. And there was the kiss. Kayli had done nothing to provoke it, of that she was certain—but she had kept silent instead of telling Randon. And her silence was a lie of sorts.
Footsteps behind her. Kayli sighed and was silent; she recognized Randon’s tread, and regardless of whatever guilt she might feel, the Flame would burn her to ash before she was the one to apologize. Whatever wrong she had done—if, indeed, any wrong had been done—was nothing beside Randon’s implicit accusation.
Randon leaned against the battlements a little distance from Kayli, and for a long time he said nothing, only staring out at Tarkesh just as she did.
“I’m sorry,” he said at last, and his voice was weary, very weary, and tinged with shame as well. “At the same time, you have to understand something. We’re not an ordinary husband and wife. If I have one doubt, my council has six doubts, and the city of Tarkesh has thousands.”
Kayli recited a calming ritual in her mind before she spoke.
“If the citizens of Tarkesh or our advisers have a concern about my fidelity, that is one matter,” she said. “But you sleep at my side every night and then believe I would betray you. You entrust your half-brother with your throne and yet believe he would lie with your wife. Is trust nothing but a game, a test to you? Well, I will not play this game, Randon. I will not take this test. Believe what you will, and when our child is born, perhaps the color of its hair or its eyes will reassure you.”
“All right.” Randon sighed. “All right. I suppose I earned that. But I was born a High Lord’s son, Kayli, and raised at court. Games are a way of life, and trust is hard to come by. I’m still learning.”
“At least you try,” Kayli said, sighing. “I have not given my temper such rein since I was a child.” She shook her head. “Strange. When I left the Order, I thought it would be the duties of a High Lady that would tax me. I had never thought it would be so strange, so difficult, to be a wife.”
Randon chuckled.
“Do you know, I’ve had similar thoughts,” he said. “But to be honest, I wonder if we find it so difficult only because we’ve had so little opportunity to practice. Perhaps with time it’ll get easier.”
Kayli nodded, but inwardly she thought that Randon was wrong. High Priestess Brisi had always said that outward change, no matter how sweeping, could only begin from within. And nothing would be resolved tonight, here on the roof of the castle.
“Let’s go in,” Randon said at last, rather awkwardly, when Kayli remained silent. “Our supper’s no doubt cold by now, but it’s the last good kitchen-prepared meal we’ll have for some days.” A little hesitantly, he offered his arm; after a slight hesitation of her own, Kayli took it.
To Kayli’s amusement, supper was not cold, but gone; someone, probably Endra, had had it taken back downstairs. But almost as soon as Randon touched the bell cord, a maid appeared with a fresh tray and a flask of wine. Cook had surpassed himself, and somehow the sweet wine and the dainty meal cheered Kayli immensely. Cook was saying, in his subtle way, that they would be missed, and Kayli was deeply grateful for that kindness.
There were too many thoughts between Randon and Kayli to allow for lovemaking that night, but late in the night, still helplessly awake, Kayli slid her hand across the covers, where it met Randon’s hand moving to reach for hers. They lay silent in the darkness, not looking at each other, only their hands joined together in the night, and Kayli thought that in many ways that said it all—that they both lay in darkness, fumbling for each other’s hand. But as long as they both were still reaching, she thought with something like satisfaction, they would find a way to touch, no matter how far apart they lay.
Chapter Thirteen
By the Bright Ones, I still can’t imagine how your menfolk manage these things,” Randon said irritably. “Show me one more time, will you?”
Kayli chuckled and, for the third morning in a row, showed Randon how to lace the supple hide jaffs over his trousers.
“But why trouble yourself?” she asked practically. “There are no sharp grasses here to cut your legs, and the weather is too hot to wear leather if you need not.”
“Well, you told me your father would likely want a hunt,” Randon said, swearing as he picked at a hopeless tangle of lacing. “And where will the High Lord of Bregond want to hunt? In Bregond, of course. So I’ll be riding through Bregondish high grass. So unless I want my legs cut to ribbons, I’ve got to wear these things. And unless I want to look as inept as a lad at his first bedding, I’ve got to learn how to put the damned things on properly before the High Lord sees me. So I need practice.”
“Your dagger would draw more easily,” Kayli said solemnly, “if you did not lace the jaffs over it.” She fought down a giggle as Randon realized his mistake, swore bitterly, and began unlacing the j
affs again.
“Somehow I think I’d embarrass myself less if I simply told your father I was too incompetent to ride and shoot,” Randon muttered grimly. “Never mind, the damned thing’s staying on, and that’s a victory of sorts. Well, at least I’ve had time to learn to ride that mare properly.”
Kayli had to admit that Randon’s mastery of Bregondish horsemanship had been swift. He now rode as if Carada was an extension of himself, as easy in the Bregondish saddle as Seba, who rode as if she had grown out of a horse’s back. He learned quickly, too, to shoot the bow Kayli had given him, although she suspected that he still preferred the Agrondish crossbow and was using her gift only to please her. In the same vein, Kayli flew the hawk Randon had given her but could not share his enthusiasm for falconry. No matter; she enjoyed simply riding again, and her spirit lightened with every hour.
Kayli had seen little of Agrond’s countryside in her helter-skelter flight through the rain to Tarkesh, and now she wondered at its lush beauty. The recent rains and the warm summer sun had brought forth plants in such variety that she wondered how Ynea had ever hoped to catalog even a small portion of them. Flowers bloomed in such a profusion of scent and color that Kayli understood why the people of Agrond dressed in such gay shades; when the earth itself sent forth such colorful exuberance, how could the people help but follow suit?
In the days since they left Tarkesh, the farms had thinned out and gradually disappeared as the caravan approached the border. Kayli wondered at this, for the land was good and apparently did not flood so severely as the farms farther to the east. Randon assured her that it was not fear of Bregond that kept farmers from settling here.
“For one thing, Sarkondish raiders become more of a problem close to the border,” he told her. “And for another, it’s a long trip to take crops and livestock to market. As long as there’s still good land closer to the cities and towns, there’s no reason to settle the wilds. Besides, these lands aren’t held by any of the lords. That means no protection for the farmers.”
Kayli wondered at folk who would rather live under the hand of a lord, depending on his protection and surrendering a part of their crops in return, than claim the best land in Agrond and live free. Bregondish were not much given to fanning; the land was simply too poor. But Kayli believed that any of her people would gladly take the good land all the more gladly for their independence.
As they had left the more heavily settled part of Agrond, game, too, was present in gratifying variety, although Kayli and Randon quickly learned that if they wished to hunt, they must range ahead of the noisy caravan. Seba often joined these hunts after Kayli spied her gazing wistfully after them, and although Seba had no bow of her own and refused the use of Kayli’s, her proficiency with a sling was amazing. The child could fire with deadly accuracy from a full gallop, bringing down anything smaller than a large deer or boar.
Kayli had feared that it would rain, as it had when she first journeyed to Tarkesh, but the weather remained bright and warm, perfect for riding. She let her braids down to stream behind her in the wind and she raced Randon whenever the guards would let them out of sight long enough for a good run. Each evening when they camped, Kayli would help Seba and the maids rub down and comb the horses, and in the morning she would rise before dawn with Seba and run through the dewy grass hunting rabbits. Her morning nausea had vanished as suddenly as it had come, and she thought wistfully that perhaps she had never been so happy. Even in the Order her days had been filled with tasks and studies; surely she’d never had so much time and freedom to ride and enjoy herself. And ahead of her lay the even greater joy of seeing her family again.
Even as Kayli enjoyed each day, however, Randon grew more worried.
“It’s easy for you,” he said one evening as they sat staring into the fire. “He’s your father. But to me he’s the ruler of a country that’s been our enemy for generations. It’s so damned important that I make a good impression.”
“At least,” Kayli said amusedly, “you do not have to marry him. And you have Lord Kereg, Lady Tarkas, and Lord Disian to advise you.”
To Randon and Kayli’s dismay, the advisers had solved the dilemma over whether to remain in Tarkesh to oversee Terralt’s rulership or journey to the border to advise Randon by splitting the council. Lord Kereg, Lady Tarkas, and Lord Disian, whose areas of knowledge were most applicable to establishing trade with Bregond, would accompany Randon; the others would remain to assist Terralt. Kayli was glad that at least Lord Vyr, Minister of the Army, had not chosen to accompany them; her father might well have seen that as a veiled threat. Thankfully the ministers did not enjoy the rough travel and kept to themselves in their own comfortable wagons, not troubling Randon or herself overmuch except for the endless questions over dinner—and could Kayli please tell them how to say this phrase, or that one, just one more time?
More worrisome, however, was evidence of past Sarkondish raids. Occasionally the caravan passed ruined and burned-out houses, and once an entire burned village, although Randon assured Kayli that the ruins must be at least half a century old. Still, even though it was nearly sunset and clouds were gathering ominously overhead, Kayli insisted that they continue out of the area of the ruins before camping. It was the worst ill fortune to sleep where the dead had never received the proper rituals, for such spirits often lingered, bringing terrible dreams.
It seemed, too, that the village was the ill omen that Kayli thought it, for they had only just stopped to camp when the first drops of rain fell and thunder grumbled through the clouds. By the time the tents were pitched, everyone was drenched, and Kayli eagerly retired to her tent to change into dry clothes. So much for the beautiful summer weather.
“Well, here’s the wood,” Randon said, bringing in an armload of branches and dumping them into the small pit at the middle of the tent. “It’s pretty wet, I’m afraid.”
He glanced at Kayli thoughtfully.
“Why don’t you just light it?” he suggested.
Kayli hesitated. She could not explain to Randon her reluctance to use her magic. How could he understand her fear of lighting one branch when she’d walked through a blazing fire-pit? At last she picked up two of the branches, but for safety’s sake, she moved to the opening of the tent.
She focused intently on the first piece of wood. For a moment her magic refused to answer to her summons; then the power surged out of her with lightning force, sending a sharp spear of pleasure through Kayli that nearly toppled her. The branch blazed up in a wave of white-hot light, and startled, Kayli cried out, dropping it; she heard Randon cry out also, somewhere behind her. She stepped back hurriedly, lest her loose trousers catch fire, but when she looked down, she was amazed to see that the branch had shivered completely to ash, instantly consumed by the fire she had conjured.
For a moment Kayli fumbled for some excuse to make to Randon, but that was foolish; he’d seen clearly enough what had happened. Instead she focused more tightly on the second piece of wood, calmed herself as best she could, and tried again. This time, with careful self-discipline she was able to kindle the wood without unleashing such power as she had before. Oh, but she would have to speak to Brisi, to ask the High Priestess what had gone awry within her, and what could be done to remedy it!
To Kayli’s surprise, when she walked back into the tent and thrust the burning branch into the stack of wood in the firepit, she did not see Randon immediately. Glancing around the tent, she finally located him in a corner, huddled on the floor, clasping his head as if it would burst.
“Randon?” Kayli asked worriedly, falling to her knees beside him. “Are you unwell?” The fire was catching, and there was a little more light; to her alarm, Randon’s pupils were contracted to mere pinpricks, and a thin trickle of blood ran from his nose.
“Bright Ones,” Randon mumbled. “I don’t—”
“Where is your potion?” Kayli asked when he said nothing more.
“Left it at home,” Randon grunted. “Endr
a said I wouldn’t need it.”
“Well, did she not teach you how to deal with this?” Kayli asked him.
“Trying—I’m trying,” Randon snapped. “It doesn’t work.”
“What did she tell you?”
“She said—” Randon took a deep breath, as if trying to gather his thoughts. “Said to picture the pain as a light at the top of my head, force it down through my body and out the soles of my feet. But every time I try, it won’t go into the ground. It just goes back up.”
Kayli shook her head helplessly. She had never heard anything of the sort, but of course she had never had to deal with a problem such as Randon’s. If only Stevann had come with them! But in view of the spring floods, would-be assassins, and riots, Randon had reluctantly decided that his trusted mage was more urgently needed at the castle.
Not knowing what else to do, Kayli took a cloth outside, let the rain wet it thoroughly, and brought it back in, kneeling to wipe the blood from Randon’s upper lip. The moment she touched him, however, a snapping sensation ran up her arm, and Randon rocked backward, crying out in pain. Kayli reached for him instinctively, only to draw her hand back in confusion.
Stunned, she rubbed her hand, which still tingled slightly. Of course! Endra had not seen the obvious, but then, neither had Kayli.
Randon had Awakened Kayli; she knew that he had at least a trace of the fire magic. Those were the energies Randon turned inward upon himself. And the ephemeral elemental magics, air and fire, were not grounded.