“Treason,” Callo mumbled under his breath, observing the chaos in the great hall. Kirian had to agree the King would be unlikely to pardon such open battle against his men.
The fight moved away from the door, and Callo took advantage of that to pull Chiss out of their sheltering doorway. They moved fast and low through the servants’ hall, past the deserted kitchen, into the scrubroom where Callo paused for just a moment, checking to make sure they were not followed. Just as he turned his head away, there was a hiss through the air as a blade slashed for Callo’s throat.
He ducked to the side, but the blade caught his shoulder. Kirian heard the breath go out of him as the shock hit. Then he flung color magery at the attacker in a haphazard splash. The figure staggered and went down in a clatter of buckets and tubs, kicking at the things that hampered his movement.
The color magery faded. Callo swayed for a moment, his eyes gone dull with exhaustion. The attacker, struggling to rise, flung an arm out and around Callo’s legs and pulled hard, and Callo fell. The King’s man grinned – she could see his teeth under the line of his helm in the light from the kitchen fire. He stood and reached again for his sword as Callo tried to rise.
Kirian shrieked a warning. Chiss came up from where he had been waiting, grabbed Callo by the arm, and pulled him bodily away from the attacker. Then both Callo and Chiss were on their feet, and the attacker backed off in Kirian’s direction. She turned to flee but felt a huge arm pull her close, a hand over her partially open mouth.
“Kirian!” Callo shouted, weapon raised—then hesitated as the King’s man held her close as a shield. The stink of sweat and horses enveloped her. Kirian bit down hard on the thick fingers over her mouth. She was gratified to hear the man curse and pull his hand away, but he only wrapped it around her waist instead. Struggling, she kicked and elbowed, but could not get free enough to do any real damage. The man’s hand tightened.
“Come with me, little bastard,” the man jeered at Callo. “Or I’ll slice her wide open.”
Callo’s eyes sparked color magery. “Go to hell,” he told her captor, and focused on him with a furious intensity that made her heart race even faster. For the space of several breaths, her captor held still, seemingly frozen. Then his hand fell away from her as if she burned his skin. She pulled away. She ran to Callo’s side and looked back. The attacker’s face had gone slack; then he dropped his sword, suddenly screamed into Callo’s face, and ran into the darkness.
The ku’an’s skill. Kirian sighed in relief. Callo turned to her, grabbed her in a tight embrace. He was breathing hard. “Kirian, did he hurt you? If he hurt you I’ll . . .”
“No,” she interrupted, her free hand stroking his arm. “I’m fine. Thank you. Callo, can you do that to the King’s men in there?”
“There are too many,” he said. “It’s beyond my skill—also, I don’t have the energy required to do it right now. The sooner we’re out of here, the better for everyone. Let’s go.”
He looked at Chiss, but did not hold him at swordpoint again. “Let’s go,” he repeated, and led the way out the kitchen door into the darkness outside. Chiss gave Kirian a thin smile and followed her out.
A perimeter had been set up for the King’s visit, and the guardsmen had been alerted. Kirian could see two of them, backs against a nearby outbuilding, and she was sure there were many more. She knew the cliff path to the village would be guarded.
Callo took a slanting path into the trees, staying low. She followed, afraid every moment that the guards would see her or hear her boots scuffing on the ground. Callo led them away from the stables, away from the cliff path. The trees enfolded them. Callo stopped and turned, looking back towards the castle. Now that they were under cover of the trees, looking back toward the castle wall, Kirian saw that they were fortunate that they had exited through the servants’ kitchen door. Guards paced atop the wall, and more guards stood near the stables and the cliff path. She thanked the Unknown God for watching over them, turned to whisper something to Callo, and found herself staring into a strange face. The guard was mailed and armed. Kirian somehow kept herself from crying out, but Callo must have heard her sharp, indrawn breath, because he was there, looming up behind the guard in the darkness and slamming his sword hilt into the man’s head. Chiss caught the man as he collapsed, and they dragged the man into the undergrowth.
* * * * *
When they reached the caravan road, Callo and Chiss stayed well off to the side as they backtracked north to recover their horses. At least, Chiss’ gelding and Miri were loosely tethered to some branches off the caravan road; Kirian’s mountLady was lost to her, since she had left the mare with Ha’star’s horse off the Two Merkhan road before they followed the path back to SeagardVillage. At least Lady would be safe—it was a well-traveled road. She was sure the first travelers on the road that day would find the horses and thank the gods, especially, for their good fortune in finding such a lovely mare. It would be a bit of serendipity for them. She hoped whoever it was would be a good master to Lady.
Kirian heard Miri’s nicker out of the darkness as the mare recognized Callo. Callo freed her, murmuring soft words into Miri’s pricked-forward ears. He turned to Kirian and said, “You may have Chiss’ gelding, Kirian. As for you . . .” He turned toward Chiss and paused.
Chiss just looked at Callo and said nothing.
Callo sighed. “I won’t pretend to understand you, Chiss. I should have slain you already instead of hauling you along with us through the castle. But you saved my life when you dragged me away from that King’s man.”
“I can explain, my lord,” Chiss began. Callo made a frustrated gesture, and waved Chiss off.
“I have no time for your explanations. I owe you much, I can’t slay you now in spite of your betrayal. We need your horse. But you may go where you will.” He turned away and mounted Miri. Kirian mounted the gelding and followed. Callo stared ahead into the darkness, but Kirian looked behind. Chiss stood in the near-darkness and watched them walk down the dark road.
They went with caution, alert for King’s men searching for them on the road. They kept the horses to a walk to avoid making noises that would draw the notice of any pursuers. Perhaps the King did not think they could have made it to the caravan road; at any rate, they saw no sign of pursuit as they retraced their steps back to where the Castle loomed up to the west of the caravan road. There, they dismounted and left the road, walking the horses through the undergrowth and between the dark trees. Branches and weeds scraped at Kirian’s legs. Miri slapped her tail around her flanks, skin quivering, as she tried to shake off the bloodsucking night insects. Kirian’s ears strained for any sound of alarm, but she heard nothing. After the dark bulk of the Castle sank into the general blackness behind them, they remounted and returned to the road.
Less than a candlemark later, she heard sounds behind them.
“Callo,” she whispered, but he had already heard. He directed Miri off the road and dismounted, hand on his sword hilt. Kirian waited, holding her breath, eyes straining through the night.
“It’s me,” said a low voice out of the gloom. “I’m alone.”
She relaxed.
“Chiss?” Callo’s whisper held a note of disbelief. “I told you to go.”
“You said go where I willed, my lord. This is where I want to go.”
“Som’ur’s cursed eyes, Chiss, don’t you know when you’re not wanted?”
“I know well I am not wanted, my lord.”
“Yet here you are.” Callo swore again. “I am too damned tired to argue with you in the middle of the road. We will discuss this when we reach shelter, Chiss. Until then I swear, if you make one suspicious move, you had better be ready to greet your gods.”
“I understand,” Chiss said.
* * * * *
Kirian lay wrapped in a rough wool blanket on a mound of straw and thanked the Unknown God she was not in Las’ash city any more. If she were, her reputation—even as tattered as i
t had been—now would be in shreds, and she would undoubtedly be in prison again and headed for stoning for immodest behavior.
When she had curled up on the straw, finally released from the day’s barrage of shocks, her heart had begun to race. She could not keep a loud sob from escaping her. Callo had come to lie down next to her. He had put his arm around her and drawn her close. A few minutes later, he had fallen asleep, his arm still around her. Now she listened to his even breathing in the darkness, luxuriated in the feel of his warm, lean body, loose and relaxed against hers. In Las’ash City this would have been grounds for stoning.
In the darkness she could hear the grunts and small movements of the animals that stayed in this barn, as well as their own horses. Chiss was rolled up in a blanket somewhere near the horses. She had no idea what motivated the man to stay with them after Callo released him. He was an enigma—his action in the tower room at the Castle when he had threatened Callo totally opposed to his lifetime of service. She did not believe that his continued presence was a danger to Callo. But then, she never thought he would try to kill his lord either.
Arter, the landholder here at the little farm, was a woman. She listened stony-faced to their explanation and to Arias’ name and showed them to the barn, explaining that she could not let them disturb her children in the farmhouse. Callo accepted that with righ manners, bowing to the little woman as if he were in Sugetre. Arter brought them cold roast meat and ale and blankets and left them to rest.
Kirian sighed and stretched carefully, trying to avoid disturbing Callo, but Callo slept the sleep of mental and physical exhaustion and did not stir. Finally, the comforting sounds of the stable lulled her to sleep.
She awakened in the morning to a sense of chill. Rolling to one side, she realized that Callo was no longer by her side. She threw back the blanket and sat up, rubbing her eyes, to see the mousy-haired farmholder standing in the stable door, the light of a glorious summer morning streaming in behind her. The cattle were gone. A gray cat sat next to Kirian, its tail curled around its paws, staring at her.
“You must go on soon, before they begin searching here,” Arter said. “I will not endanger my farmholding for the affairs of the righ.”
Callo stood before her with his hair untied, wearing the same rumpled tunic as the day before, yet managed to look as noble as ever. He said, “I thank you for the food and shelter, Hon Arter. I will not forget it.”
She surveyed him. “You look a power better than you did last night, I must say. I will bring you some meat and bread, then you must go on. I will tell you how to avoid the Fortress road. My advice is to head for the southeast, and the Sword of Jashan.”
Callo drew back, almost imperceptibly, but Kirian saw it, and so did Hon Arter. “I don’t know what your choices are, but from here it appears you have few. The Sword of Jashan would welcome you and protect you.”
“Does my half-brother know you are involved with the Sword of Jashan?”
Arter shrugged. “It matters not. I won’t give you up to the King’s men—that’s all you need care about.”
“It is, indeed, the only thing that matters right now. But I have other concerns. Someone must ride to inform the legitimate heir that his life is in danger from the King.”
Chiss said, “Hon Kirian need not go with us, my lord. As a Healer, she could go anywhere—back to Seagard, even, to her original posting. I am sure she knows by now that Lord Arias would take no action against her on that earlier matter.”
In the matter of Inmay and Eyelinn, Chiss meant. Kirian thought of Inmay, dead in Las’ash city with his head on a spike, and Eyelinn in bondage to Ar’ok, and then she thought of Ha’star dead on the floor of the Tower Room in Seagard Castle far from his homeland. For just a moment the little stable seemed to spin around her head, and she felt faint. She was a Healer, trained up to cure ills and deliver babies and bind wounds. She could deal with all manner of crises, from babies ready to birth unturned to an epidemic of the swelling disease.
She closed her eyes, aware that Callo watched her. She was tired and hungry. She had no experience of mages and princes and righ lords. What in the name of the Unknown God was she doing here at all, let alone considering traveling far from her posting with a renegade righ lord with unheard-of abilities? With nothing but the clothes on her back, no less. No Healer’s bag, no clothes, no money.
No friends. No recourse, if Callo were to leave her.
“I don’t know,” she said into the silence. “I have to think.”
Callo straightened his shoulders as if he prepared to take a blow. “All right, then. You must do as you think is best for you.” He turned to Arter. “Thank you again, Hon Arter. We will be ready to leave as soon as we have eaten.”
Kirian turned away from the talk as Callo and Arter discussed practicalities. Callo was the light of her eyes; she did not want to leave him. But she must be practical. He was a righ lord, a ku’an, and a color mage, and his life ran in a path hers did not.
And she knew he did not love her.
She had convinced Callo that he was not to blame for her desire for him. Shamelessly, to get him into bed with her, she had told him she loved him. He had thanked her for that openness, seeming to know what it cost her. But he had never claimed he loved her in return.
She shook her head as she felt tears come to her eyes. This was unlike her, to be so weepy. She was still tired, and her belly growled with hunger, and the image of Ha’star lying dead on the floor still hung in front of her eyes. She was not used to being pursued for her life. It had killed her sense of adventure, at least for now.
Chiss went out after Arter. Callo carried bread with ham and ale from a tray that Arter must have brought, though Kirian had not seen that happen. She took it from his hands, and he sat next to her.
“Kirian, sweet,” he said, very seriously.
She braced herself for attempts to persuade her, for endearments she did not want to hear just now. She did not look up at him.
He sighed. “Kirian, you must do as you wish. This is not the way your life should be, being chased from nation to nation with not even another woman to bear you company.”
That almost pulled a smile from her, but she did not let him see it. It was so odd, what the nobles thought people needed in life.
“I don’t know yet what I will do. I cannot return to my estate or Sugetre. King Martan will kill me if I do not submit to his will. His heir is a boy who will never live to adulthood if I accept the King’s offer. I cannot let that happen, yet his guardians might turn me over to the King if I attempt to warn them.”
“Lord Arias would shelter you,” she said.
“He is much too optimistic about being forgiven by the King, I think. I cannot endanger him further by staying there, another cause for a charge of treason.”
She looked at him and saw his amber eyes troubled, a crease of worry between his brows. “You know how I feel about you,” she said.
“But you must act for your own good, not for me. You are sweet, Kirian, a brave companion and a good friend and a joyous lover – but I cannot ask you to be a fugitive in the wilds, not for me.”
Her heart brightened. He did not say love. She should not let herself hear what he did not say, should she?
“I will miss your lovely eyes every day, but you should stay in Seagard.” His hands fidgeted with the straw. He was distressed because he was being selfless. Cheered by this thought, Kirian began to wonder what she would do all day in SeagardVillage anyway. Pick and dry herbs, sit with Ruthan, climb the mountain paths for exercise, and miss Callo every minute of every candlemark of every day.
Her emotions calmed like a sea after the gale had passed. There really was no choice. She could heal anywhere she went. People everywhere needed healing.
And now that she had eaten and her nerves were steadier, she realized she really would like to see what the wilderness was like on the way to Lord Ander’s home of Northgard. And maybe a chance to see if Callo could lov
e her after all.
Callo said, “I will let you consider it. I will go and see if that damned turncoat Chiss has abandoned us or not.” He rose, his fingers trailing along her arm so that she shivered, and left the barn.
A few minutes later, Chiss stepped in and began leading out Miri and his gelding.
“Did Lord Callo find you?” she asked.
He nodded. “I have convinced him he is better off to allow me to accompany him.”
She snorted, an unladylike sound that startled Miri, who tossed her head at Kirian. “Gods know how you did that. Chiss, you are fortunate you are still alive.”
“My lord knows I am not a traitor.”
“I think your lord remembers too well the years when he was growing up. He said you were his mentor. That is why he did not slay you—he cannot forget the past.”
“Why should he forget it?” Chiss said, turning to her for the first time. “It is true, you know. Without me to recognize what he was and find someone who could train him up in discipline, he would be dead. Either the King would have slain him for using the psychic magery or he would have destroyed himself. He owes me much.”
“I think he knows that and is paying it.”
Chiss’ narrow face, usually so self-controlled, was pale with tension. “If so, it is only what I am due. It is none of your concern why my lord sees fit to keep me with him.”
Kirian made a helpless gesture with her hands. “It is my concern, because I will be with you. It’s my life, too, Chiss.”
“I thought you were remaining here. Going back to the village.”
“No.”
There was a moment of quiet as Chiss pulled the girth strap tight around Miri. “You have not told Lord Callo this.”
“Not yet.”
“All right then. I swore an oath to King Martan, many years ago, when he first assigned me to Lord Callo. I swore another to my lord, and have kept it all these years while I have grown to love him more than my own son. Nothing would take me from Lord Callo while I can do anything to help him. But I swore that oath to the King, swore it by Som’ur himself.”
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