by Glenda Larke
into sleep that night did I turn once more to my cabochon.
Once again I moved the air, this time creating eddies to sweep the ground, catching up dust and grit. I moved this warmer air from the plains down to the riverside, cooling it along the ice-cold waters of the river, where the moisture in it became mist, then fog; a thick suffocating blanket of moisture and dust. I rolled it across what was left of the camp – there were fewer tents now – and setded it there.
'Time to go,' I said softly to Brand. 'Let's get this over and done with.'
He squinted into the fog. 'How? I can't see a thing.'
'I can sense where people are, and who they are,' I reminded him. 'And I can enhance my hearing too, if necessary. Come.' I led him past the fog-clad sentries, unseen and undetected, into the heart of the camp.
I ignored the tents and aimed for those legionnaires lying on the ground, wrapped tight in whatever blankets or pelts they had, their heads covered to escape the damp. I moved from one sleeping bundle to the next, seeking out the weaponry that lay close at hand to each legionnaire: swords, lances, spears, arrows. A short burst of cold light from my cabochon and the metals melted, rendering the weapons useless. Whenever I sensed someone was awake I avoided them. It hardly mattered; I didn't have the power to destroy every weapon they had. My aim was not to leave them entirely defenceless, but to reduce their fighting potential to a degree sufficient to force them to turn back.
By the time we had circled through most of the sleeping men, I was leaning against Brand and staggering. The flash from my palm had become a
mere gleam, the results less spectacular. 'It's time to go,' Brand whispered.
I could have used the power in my sword to continue, but it was less subtle and already people were awakening. We could hear agitated cries from the other side of the camp. I nodded my acquiescence.
'Which way is out?' he asked. The fog was as thick as ever and he had no idea where we were.
I pointed in the correct direction. 'Goddess, Brand, I am so tired…' I drooped against him, and in my fatigue, my powers failed me. I was not aware of Favonius's approach until he had actually loomed up out of the fog, close enough to touch.
His enraged voice lashed at me through my tiredness. 'I knew it! It is you!' He seized my left hand and looked at my palm. The golden glow of the uncovered cabochon was just visible. He flung my arm away in a gesture of distaste. 'I knew it had to be something to do with that lump of yours; it's you who has sorcerous powers! Well, there's no way the Stalwarts will retreat before one person, and a woman at that. Go to the Goddess, Ligea -'
His sword was out and aimed at my throat before I could move. But he had forgotten Brand, forgotten Brand wasn't a slave, forgotten Brand had never had the slave mentality that would have stopped him from ever threatening a legionnaire. He moved just as quickly as Favonius, and the knife he held rested at the Tribune's throat long before Favonius's sword pricked at my neck. I stepped out of reach.
'Lower your weapon very carefully,' Brand said evenly, 'or you die right here and now. And don't doubt it, Favonius.'
It was the insolent use of Favo's given name, an unthinkable liberty for a slave or even a servant, that
convinced the Tribune of Brand's sincerity, more than the threat or his tone. Favonius dropped his sword point and stood still, shocked. 'I'll see you dead for this, thrall,' he said at last, his anger so strong I could taste it in the back of my throat.
'But not now, I think,' Brand replied, his voice full of quiet menace. He did not move his knife. 'What shall I do with him, Ligea?'
I straightened, almost too tired to care what he did. 'Let him go. I shall deal with him.' This time I used my sword.
Brand stepped back. Instantly, Favonius raised his sword, only to find the blade of it was no longer useable. It was a travesty of a weapon, a tangle of knobbed metal. His jaw sagged.
He took a deep breath and regained his equilibrium with a supreme effort of will. 'You can't think we will retreat before any barbarian scum, let alone one of their bitches.'
"Why not? Think of it this way, Favo: if you are right, then they sent only one, their newest, most inexperienced recruit, to stop the Stalwarts. Go on, and you'll face the whole population of the Mirage. They will turn you all to dust.'
'How do we know others even exist?'
'You've heard enough tales to know they do. Think back, Favo. I'm sure you've heard stories about the early conquest of Kardiastan. I'm equally certain you've heard more recent stories from your fellow officers about what happens in this land.'
He paled at that and strove to understand. 'I don't know you any more. And I don't understand, Ligea. Why? Was it all a sham, right from the beginning? Were you always a Kardi^barbarian at heart, bent on,
betrayal? You seemed so – so loyal to Tyrans. What happened? Did they ensorcel you?'
'I grew up. I learned what Tyrans really is. A behemoth, Favonius, that crushes the weak beneath it. A giant beast without compassion or understanding. Melete's heart, you came here with orders to kill babies! Is that what the Stalwarts are all about? Well, this servant of the behemoth doesn't serve any more.'
'I don't understand. I'll never understand how you could change so.'
I nodded. 'I never expected you to. Go back across the Alps, Favonius. It's your only chance.' I waved a hand around me to encompass the camp. 'You don't have enough weapons to fight with any more.' I used my sword again. The shaft of light caught him on the temple and he dropped where he stood.
'Have you killed him?' Brand asked. He didn't sound particularly upset at the thought.
I gave a low laugh. 'Brand, the way I feel at the moment, I couldn't kill an ant if I crushed it between my fingers. Although it might be wiser if I ended his life here and now. He meant what he said about seeing you dead one day.'
He wasn't perturbed. 'Our paths are not likely to cross too often.'
I lingered for a moment longer, gazing down on Favonius's prostrate body, and wondered if I did him a disservice by leaving him alive. His career was finished after this fiasco, for a start, and the Stalwarts were all he'd ever had. Or perhaps I was just looking for a reason to kill him and satisfy the panic in me, the deep unease that told me not killing Favonius would be as large a mistake as not killing Pinar when she'd lain unconscious at my feet.
I was right, of course.
If only I had done it.
If only.
Brand touched me on the shoulder. 'Let's get out of here.'
We heard shouts of consternation. The bellow of an officer, as loud and as inflamed as a male gorclak's challenge call, penetrated the fog. And the opportunity was lost. Brand put his arm around me and pulled me away. 'Quick! Which direction?' he asked.
When I awoke in the morning, Brand was cooking at the fireplace. 'Smells good,' I said. Fatigue tugged at me; even rolling over to face him was an effort.
'I had some luck hunting this morning,' he said, adding laconically, 'Duck. At least I think it was. It did have a hairy tail like a cat, though.'
'How did you get back in through the ward?'
'You forgot to renew it last night.'
'Oh, Goddess…'
'No harm done. I kept watch. And I didn't have to go far away to find the duck, either.'
'What are the legionnaires doing?'
'Packing up to go. The fog has gone. They've been sifting through the remains of the camp to see what they can salvage. Some of the men have been off hunting – they are short of food now. I've seen Favonius from a distance; he seems to have recovered. The Legate wanted to see you again. I told the messenger you were ill. I hinted you were ensorcelled. He – the Legate – sent back the advice that you ought to move out of the building. He says you're welcome to join them on their retreat across the mountains. Ligea, why in all Acheron's mists didn't Favonius tell everyone he believes you were responsible for what happened last night?'
'I told you he wouldn't.' I had reassured Brand of that the night be
fore, but he hadn't quite believed me.
'How did you know he wouldn't?'
'I know Favonius. How could he {ell anyone? Everyone knows he and I have been lovers for years. How can he tell his comrades-at-arms he was bedding something capable of sorcery all that time and never knew it? His pride won't let him say a word. Pride has always been Favonius's weakness. Pride and the arrogance of the younger son who made it on his own.' He brought across a plate of food to me. 'Goddess, this looks good, Brand. And I'm so hungry. There's nothing like a spot of sorcery to increase the appetite!'
By midmorning the Stalwarts were on their way.
There was nothing proud about them now. Many of them still had their gorclaks, but there was little else of value for them to take back over the Alps. Their food would be whatever they could hunt or forage on the way, their only shelters the caves they could find, their only warmth the fur cloaks they wore. Many of them were going to die, and they knew it.
I also knew it and part of me grieved.
Brand and I stood by the river and watched them ride past. The men rode without speaking, many of them making the evil-avert sign as they passed the building the Mirage had built. The Legate reined in when he came level with me. 'Legata.' He inclined his head in greeting. 'You look ill. Your servant told me you were sick.'
'I am recovering, fortunately.'
'Do you wish to ride with us?'
I shook my head. 'I have no mandate to return to Tyrans.'
'Tribune Favonius tells me you refuse to give us the information of how to cross the Shiver Barrens. Is that true?'
I nodded.
"Why is that?'
'If you sought to return to the coast that way, you would all fall to sorcery, without exception. There is no other way back to Tyrans for you but this one.' I nodded to the mountains.
'By your silence you ensure that we have no choice. Yet it is not the task of the Brotherhood to make decisions on behalf of legionnaires. You exceed your authority. Do you persist in withholding the information?'
T do.'
He sat there looking at me in silence for a long minute. From his emotions, I had a fair idea of what he was thinking. He wondered if he could force me at sword point to tell him what he wanted to know.
I stared back. 'I'm a Compeer of the Brotherhood, Legate. You know my reputation.'
He nodded, resigned. A compeer would die rather than talk under torture. Or they'd give the wrong information. And then he'd have to face the wrath of the Magister Officii. He said, 'I shall be making a complaint to the Brotherhood about your lack of cooperation.'
'That is your privilege.'
He nodded curtly and rode on.
I said quietly to Brand, 'Rathrox will make animal mash out of him if he starts talking about what the Brotherhood should and should not do.'
Favonius was one of the last to ride by and he, too, halted his mount in front of me. His face twisted unpleasantly. T told no one here of what you are, but I will make you a promise,-Ligea. The Brotherhood will
be told all I know when I return to Tyr. If you dare to show your face again within any civilised portion of the Exaltarchy, you will have to deal with them. And if I ever hear of your return, I shall ride after you personally. You may be clever with that gem in your hand, but I doubt even you are immune to an arrow in the back.'
I was overwhelmed by a need to explain, to try to eradicate that expression of vicious hate on his face. 'Favonius -' I began, not knowing what I was going to say, but he didn't let me finish anyway.
'There is nothing – nothing! – that you could say to excuse what you have done.' He waved savagely at the line of men now fording the shallowest reach of the river. 'How many of them do you think will be alive when we reach Tyrans? Without shelter, food supplies, weapons?'
'A great many more than would have ultimately survived an incursion into the Mirage.' I didn't know whether that was true or not, but I wanted him to believe it.
'But at least they would have died in a fight, with swords in their hands! They would have fallen with honour, not perished slowly of cold and hunger and fatigue.'
'With honour? Is there honour in killing children, Favo?' Anyway, what does honour matter to the dead? Some of you will survive this way.'
'Goddess, you understand nothing. Nothing! We are the Stalwarts -' He choked on the words, his anger silencing him. He jerked the reins brutally to swing his mount away from me, then dug in his heels and plunged the beast down the riverbank.
Brand glanced at me. I stood, shoulders slumped, in a posture of defeat rather than triumph. My face felt pinched; I knew I looked older, and ill.
'There would have been no honour in what they would have done to the Kardis and the Mirage,' he said gently.
'No. None.'
He took hold of me and began to help me back towards the building. I could hardly walk. 'Will he really go to the Brotherhood, do you think?' he asked.
'Oh yes. Pride won't let him tell his fellow Stalwarts about me, but it won't stop him telling the Brotherhood. It is necessary for his self-esteem that he does so. He must exact his revenge at being bested by a woman, bested by someone he once trusted. Wouldn't you do that if you walked his road?'
He laughed. 'I have my pride, but it doesn't need to be fed by revenge. And as long as I have done my best within the limits of my knowledge and abilities, my pride remains intact. To be bested under those circumstances is not to be shamed. Just as it is no shame to the slave to be enslaved.'
'But to stay enslaved?'
He was still smiling. 'That was my choice. No one would have kept me a slave for very long if it hadn't been my wish. But I think I begin to understand your lack of interest in me as a man up until recently. It had nothing to do with being a "brother", did it? It had more to do with being just a shade contemptuous of a man who allowed himself to be a slave.'
I looked away, shamefaced. 'Perhaps. You are a remarkable man, Brand, and I was both insensitive and blind.'
He nodded in amicable agreement. 'And I was undoubtedly a little stupid. I should have made things clearer long ago. Instead, I waited, and you fell in love with another man.' /
'That would have happened eventually anyway.'
'Because you are both Magor? Yes, you are right. Too bad for me. And now let us change the subject – is what Favonius said true? Are you vulnerable to an arrow in the back?'
'Oh yes. Although I should be able to sense the approach of an assassin.'
'So, are you going to return to Tyrans?'
'Yes. We must get to Tyr before they do. I have to sell my property and secure my money before Favonius or the Legate talks to the Brotherhood and that bastard Rathrox Ligatan has my assets impounded.' I smiled without mirth. 'Otherwise you'll be claiming what is yours from empty coffers, my friend. You will have nothing to get you back to Altan. And I will have nothing to give my son when he is born.'
He made a gesture of dismissal. 'Better you forget your money. Stay here, Ligea. Explain to Temellin. Now that you have turned back the Stalwarts, he will know where your loyalty lies.'
I gave a hollow laugh. 'Ah, I fear I have done my work too well, Brand. Where is the proof the Stalwarts were ever here?'
He turned to point at the remains of the camp, only to have the gesture die half made. Behind us the grass of the plains rippled in the breeze unburnt, unmarked. The discarded weapons and broken gear had vanished. Even the legionnaire graves had been smoothed over, wiped away as if they had never existed.
'Goddessdamn.'
As you say.'
'So what will we do? We can't cross the Alps -'
'No, I know. It would take too long. We will ride south to the edge of the Mirage, cross the Shiver Barrens there, and so on to the coast. To a place called
Ordensa. It's a fishing village near the border. We'll ask a fisherman to take us to Tyr.'
'And he'll do it, just like that? A Kardi, sailing to Tyrans of his own free will?'
I raised my palm t
o show him my cabochon. 'I am still a Magoria. Any Kardi would be glad to serve me.' We had reached the building, and he opened the door for me. I collapsed gratefully onto my pallet. 'We'll stay here a couple of days so I can rest. Then we'll ride south. Right now, all I want to do is sleep.'
Dusk came early to that part of the plains in the shadow of the mountains, but the twilight was long. Brand and I ate our evening meal sitting on the stoop in the half-light, then – still tired as a result of my use of my cabochon and sword against the Stalwarts four days earlier – I went to my pallet. Brand was pottering around, stoking up the fire, repairing a broken harness, feeding the red-eyed bird. We were intending to make an early start on our ride south to Ordensa the next morning.
I watched him and wondered at the newness of what I felt. A sort of fond affection, something more than what there had been, something less than what I knew was possible. There was no trace of Magorness about him now, and the scar on his stomach was fading. His lovemaking had become a joy to me, smoothing away some of the ache of Temellin's absence. We both knew it would end sooner or later, but the thought worried neither of us. It was something we had for now, it was precious to both of us, but not so absorbing that we would not be able to walk away from it when the time came.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
I watched him, and knew he was trying to find the right words to tell me something. I said, 'You still think I should go to him, don't you?'
He looked up, relieved I had been the one to bring up the subject. 'You belong in Kardiastan, Ligea. Look, if you want, I can go to Tyr, alone. You still have your seal and your papers on you. I can carry your instructions to Tyr, with your seal on them. I can pick up what you owe me, I can arrange to have your money transferred here, anything you like.'
I shook my head. 'No. As soon as I'm able, we'll ride for Ordensa – and Tyr.'
'But what of Temellin? Sooner or later he must find out what you have done to the Stalwarts, surely, and then he'll want you – and your son – here, if you'll forgive him for his distrust.'
'Forgive him? I never did blame him!' I turned from him so he could not see my face. 'He will have his son when the time comes.'