by Unknown
His concerns over her dress and habits had vanished as soon as he’d realised she was gone, and the interminable days since had given him time for some very brutal reflection. He’d turned from consideration of her actions to reflecting on his own, particularly his demands on her. He’d long known that growing up with the possibility of the feailnership being snatched from his grasp had left him with an intolerance of uncertainty, but he’d failed to recognise the extent to which it had overshadowed their time together.
In giving his heart to her, he’d insisted on proof of her love and of her intention to stay. And Kira had given it to him, over and over again. It had been written in the joy on her face as she’d pledged to him in the shelter-hut; in her happiness when she’d come back to Sarnia before Laryia’s wedding – clad in the Domain’s black and silver to please him; in her delight out on the plain at his return; even in their final morning together, as she’d hurried to meet him for breakfast.
But none of it had been enough – he’d wanted the certainty of marriage. And to force her to accept it, he had withdrawn his love – like her father had. It was the very worst thing he could have done.
Kira’s father had been a cold man who’d sought to confine her, Farid had told him, and Caledon and Tresen had intimated the same. But he’d been deaf to their warnings until now, when it might well be too late.
In the Crown Rooms in Maraschin, Adris was taking breakfast and pondering the strange happenings of that morning when there was a knock at the door.
‘Enter,’ he called absently, reading the contents of the scroll for a second time.
The message had been delivered by an exhausted Terak Patrol Commander just after dawn, and the signature belonged to the Domain Keeper, Farid, who was charged with the care of the city in the Feailner’s absence. He was also the Feailner’s trusted friend.
Adris frowned as he considered the implications of the relationship, then, recalling that someone had entered the room, glanced up.
‘Caledon!’ he exclaimed in amazement, rising hurriedly and embracing the Tallien. ‘I didn’t expect to see you again so soon, my friend, but you are very welcome.’
Caledon looked tired, as if he’d journeyed through the night, and Adris gestured him to sit, and poured him a cup of metz.
‘I had thought you intended to return straight home after leaving the forests,’ said Adris, piling a plate with warm maizen bread and fruit, and handing it to him. ‘Is there something amiss?’
‘All’s well in the forests,’ said Caledon, between gulps of metz.
‘But you thought it might not be well elsewhere?’
‘I’ve learned not to ignore the stars,’ said Caledon.
‘And they told you to come here and breakfast with me this day?’
‘They suggested I stay in the south,’ said Caledon, unperturbed by Adris’s gentle teasing. ‘It was merely good fortune that I arrived in time to share a meal with you.’
Adris handed Caledon the scroll and Caledon looked at him questioningly, then read quickly. ‘By Aeris!’ he exclaimed.
‘Your stars are proving unusually accurate,’ said Adris. ‘Perhaps I should chart my life by them.’
‘When did the Terak patrol arrive?’
‘Before dawn.’
‘Yet they left three days after Kira. She should be here by now.’
‘The Patrol Commander reported they’d been delayed by fog. It’s likely Kira encountered the same conditions.’
Caledon said nothing, and it was Adris who broke the silence. ‘Did the stars tell you that Kira would leave the Terak Feailner? Is that why you’ve come?’
‘It doesn’t take the stars to understand why she’s left a man who’s given her no time, no tenderness and no trust. And now she’s out on the plain alone!’
Caledon’s voice was harsh and Adris straightened. He had rarely seen Caledon angry, but he was angry now, his body holding the tautness of a snake, ready to strike.
‘We can go out on search,’ suggested Adris.
Caledon nodded and Adris went to the door and shouted orders. ‘How many days?’ he asked, coming back and draining the last of his metz.
‘As many as it takes.’
In the time since leaving the Ashmiri huts, Kira had been aware of the Ashmiri’s strange route, but not of any tension. That had now changed. The group had unclipped their spears, placed Brightwings at their centre and reduced their speech to whispers. Kira scanned anxiously but the plain had rucked up like the ridgelands, and for the first time on the journey the horizon was hidden.
The closing in of the land increased her fear, as did the understanding that if Shargh appeared, the Ashmiri would hand her over. The blood-link required it and would prove more powerful than any oath of Uthlin’s, particularly as there would be no outside witnesses to Irlian’s breaking of it.
Perhaps her best chance of reaching Maraschin would be to depart her ‘protectors’ now. She could outrun Shargh, even if they were mounted – if she was able to evade their spears, and if Irlian described which way to go.
She urged Brightwings forward but Irlian gestured violently. ‘There’s danger, Healer of the Southern Forests. Stay behind!’
‘If there’s Shargh, it’s best I leave you now.’
‘We take you to Maraschin,’ hissed Irlian.
‘But –’
A flock of black birds shrieked overhead and one of the Ashmiri exclaimed and pointed. Poised above them on the ridge were the silhouettes of Shargh. The Ashmiri exchanged urgent whispers, and Kira’s mouth went dry as the Shargh began their descent, coming quickly, confident they’d meet no resistance.
The leading Shargh was the one whose knife had hovered over Kira’s eyes, but as he drew closer, revulsion mixed with her fear. He’d been wounded in the face and his eye wept a greenish sludge, the poison also evident in the greasy sheen of his skin and his uneven gait. He went with his head tilted, glowering at her with his good eye, his knuckles white on his spear. The Shargh beside him had been at the Thanaval too, but was warier, like the others who followed.
Irlian went forward as if in greeting, but the wounded Shargh shoved past him, brought his arm back and hurled his spear. In the same instant, Irlian whirled and brought his spear down like a cudgel, ruining the Shargh’s aim. There was a squelching thump as Kira felt the shock of the spear hitting the mare. Brightwings collapsed backwards until she was almost sitting on her haunches, then crashed sideways, throwing Kira clear.
The mare lay on her side, snorting blood as her legs gouged the ground. Then Brightwings’ thrashing ceased and her luminous eyes dulled. Kira crawled over and collapsed sobbing on the mare’s neck, but was seized and bundled – still sobbing – onto one of the Ashmiri horses. The wounded Shargh was being restrained by his companions, glaring at her and spitting a venomous stream of words, his hatred like a living thing. Irlian palmed his forehead to the wounded Shargh, who continued to struggle and rave as his companions half carried him away back up the ridge.
‘Pain has robbed the Cashgar Shargh Chief of his memories of obligation and honour,’ Irlian told her. ‘They will return to Arkendrin when he is healed.’
Then Irlian vaulted back onto his horse, and one of the Ashmiri clambered on in front of her, and they turned the same way as the Shargh had gone. Kira didn’t look back at Brightwings, but the image of her dulled eyes and the Shargh’s rotting one stayed with her.
Their journey was slower now, as one pony must carry two, but the tension was gone. They went south or south-east and rarely stopped. Kira now had time to think on what was to come. Being friend to the northern ruler meant that Adris wouldn’t welcome her, but it didn’t matter, as she intended to stay only long enough to replenish her food supply. Then she must traverse the Azurcades, including the brittle southern slopes of Shardos, and find her way back across the Dendora – alone.
She’d made the journey before, Kira reminded herself, and with far less hope in her heart. Once in Allogrenia, she wou
ld meet with the Clancouncil and renounce the leadership, then live out the rest of her days in the Kashclan longhouse. There was only one thing of which Kira was certain – she would never bond again.
38
Caledon and Adris had set camp two days out from Maraschin when scouts reported a group of Ashmiri to the north. Five riders on four ponies, they said – without herd animals. Caledon tossed his cup of metz aside, leapt on his horse and spurred away, Adris struggling to keep up. Caledon kept his horse at a flat gallop, standing in the stirrups to better see the pony that carried two. By the grace of Aeris! It was Kira. He hauled his mount to a stop, barely aware of the thunder of Adris and the King’s Guard coming to a halt behind him as he jumped down and hurried towards her.
An Ashmiri left the group, coming to meet him, and Caledon dragged his eyes from Kira. The Ashmiri was badly scarred but the black dot of Uthlin’s line was clearly visible. The man held his spear casually, and his eyes travelled over Caledon with cool indifference. The man’s companions were older, their green dots telling of lower status, and Kira sat behind one of them. Caledon was puzzled by her apparent lack of relief or gladness in seeing him.
Adris seemed content to let him deal with the Ashmiri, and Caledon forced his thoughts to order.
‘I greet you,’ he said, bowing low and palming his forehead. ‘I am Caledon e Saridon e Talliel, friend to the northern Feailner and to the Tain King. You guard one who is precious to both, and to me. I thank you for your care of the Tremen Feailner in her travel across the Sarsalin.’
The Ashmiri inclined his head. ‘I am Irlian, son of Uthlin, Chief of the Ashmiri. But even were I nameless and tie-less, I would guard the Healer from the Southern Forests with my life, for the Ashmiri Chief has granted her protection.’
Caledon stared at him in astonishment, but Irlian was gesturing to the Ashmiri carrying Kira. He rode forward and helped Kira down. Caledon half expected her to run to him, but instead she turned to Irlian and bowed.
‘The Healer from the Southern Forests thanks you for sharing your fire, your pelts and your blades,’ she said.
Irlian returned her bow and Kira set off towards Adris, Caledon falling into step beside her. He searched for signs of injury or shock but she merely seemed withdrawn or dazed.
‘Are you hurt?’ he asked.
Kira shook her head, greeting Adris with words as polite and considered as those she’d used with the Ashmiri.
‘Our camp is but a short ride away,’ said Adris. ‘You can ride behind the Lord Caledon – if you will.’
Adris set off at his usual speed, but Caledon kept his mount to a gentle canter.
‘Commander Marin led us to believe that you were riding the mare the northern Feailner gifted you,’ he said after a while.
‘Marin’s in Maraschin?’ asked Kira, betraying emotion for the first time.
‘Yes,’ said Caledon. ‘The Domain Keeper was greatly concerned for you – as we all were.’
Kira said nothing and Caledon tried again. ‘How did you come to be with Ashmiri?’
‘I got lost in fog and Irlian found me.’
Her reply was brief, and once back at the camp she said little more, eating then excusing herself and crawling into the sleep-shelter pitched for her.
Caledon and Adris remained at the fire, and as Caledon sipped his metz, he realised that he must take care how he now conducted himself. The fighting had forged a close bond between Adris and Tierken, and the stars intended that it should endure. Thus Caledon mustn’t put Adris in the position of humiliating or insulting the Terak Feailner by taking his bondmate’s part against him, or by aiding the claims of another man on his bondmate’s affections.
In fact, the wisest thing for Caledon would be to postpone any investigation of the reasons for Kira’s arrival in the south until after he had cleared Maraschin’s walls. It might mean journeying all the way back to Allogrenia with her, if that was what she intended, and he sighed, feeling the effects of his constant travel. At least delaying his return to Talliel would give him a better sense of the stars’ longer-term intentions, he reasoned.
Kira was relieved that Caledon kept his conversation general during the journey back to Maraschin. He inquired as to whether she was tired, or needed to have time alone, and ensured that there were nuts and biscuit for her when they stopped to eat. She could see from his face that his want for her hadn’t lessened, but she had no intention of hurting him further with her faithlessness. She had resolved not to bond again, and that was one resolution that she would keep.
It was dusk when they at last rode up King’s Way, through Queen’s Grove and entered the ornately scrolled gates of King’s Hall. Kira was thinking of how strangely things had turned, that she should be back here, when a familiar figure hastened from the gloom.
‘Marin!’ she exclaimed, jumping down from the back of Caledon’s horse. ‘It’s good to see you,’ she said, as his kindly face reminded her of Niria and others of the Domain.
Marin bowed. ‘It’s a relief to see you, Lady,’ he said with feeling.
Caledon thumped to the paving behind her. ‘I must have private speech with the Patrol Commander,’ Kira said to Caledon, moving quickly away along one of the intricately paved paths that ran to the west of the Crown Rooms.
She stopped in a darker section near the wall, glad there were no lamps to light her face. Marin waited patiently, but it was a moment before she could speak.
‘Did the Feailner send you?’ she asked finally.
‘No, the Keeper. The Feailner was still in Kessom.’
‘In Kessom?’
‘Message came that his grandmother was ill,’ explained Marin, ‘and the Feailner went there. Then, when the Domain Guard reported you had left the city, the Keeper sent me with a patrol to confirm your safe arrival here. Fog made our crossing a long one, and we’ve waited here since.’
Kira took a shuddering breath, thinking of Eris’s last words to her and wondering if the elderly Healer’s premonition had proved true. If so, Tierken would have had to bear his grief alone.
‘I’m returning south,’ she managed to say. ‘I’ll only delay here to replenish my food. I . . . I thank you for making the journey across the Sarsalin, Commander.’
‘I was acting under orders,’ said Marin. ‘They require I return north on the morrow. Is there a message you would have me carry?’
‘Only that I beg the Feailner’s pardon for the loss of his mare.’
‘If she got away from you, Lady, we might yet find her on the plain,’ said Marin.
‘She was killed by a spear through the heart, Marin. She’s gone, like everything else I’ve loved.’
Tierken thought of Kira’s words, as reported by Marin, as he stared down at the Wastes. He had to fight the urge to jump on Kalos and gallop south. Begging Kira to come back to the same city and situation she’d fled would have little hope of success. Instead, he’d begun to bring her vision of Sarnia to fruition, and to consider how else he could make her time in the north happy – if she ever returned.
The Wastes were now truly Kiraon’s garden again, both Kiraons he hoped. It was nearly a moon since Marin had come back with the news Tierken had yearned to hear, and since then Kessomi hand-traders had removed the weeds, revealed or replanted the herbs, and replaced the stump with a young allogrenia. It now uncurled new leaves above a wooden seat carved with grenia owls.
But the delay meant that Kira might now be in Talliel, sharing the Lord Caledon’s bed. Tierken rolled his shoulders as he made his way back to the Domain. Marin had reported Kira arriving in Maraschin on the back of the Lord Caledon’s horse, the Tallien having gone back to Maraschin instead of west, and on receiving Marin’s news, setting out on search.
By keeping Kira safe, Caledon had again done what he had failed to do, Tierken admitted to himself as he strode across the Domain courtyard and up the steps to the balcony. He should be pleased, but mostly he felt anger and dread.
The Silvercades were
afire with the setting sun and he thought of Jonred in the north, leading the patrol across the Ashkal. Tierken had stayed in Sarnia until the garden had been completed and Ryn had returned from the Foaling Fields. Now in the stall next to Kalos was a mare just as silver as his own stallion, born in the same season as Brightwings and of the same bloodline.
Tierken went to Kira’s rooms, as he had many times over the last moon, and, opening the clothing-chest, drew out the gown she’d worn at Laryia’s marriage. It still retained the faintest scent of her and he inhaled deeply. It was all he had left, and if she’d gone to Talliel, or if he couldn’t persuade her to trust him again, it was all he’d ever have.
On the morrow he’d take a patrol south-east. They would head to the Azurcades and cross the Kindrin Pass. He’d never gone that way before but the Kir herders occasionally took their flocks through. Slivkash had said that it was treacherous in places and slow, but the patrol would make up time once they cleared it and swung west to the Dendora. If all went well, they’d reach the northern edge of the forests in twenty days, nine fewer than the easier route he’d taken with Laryia.
He’d leave half the patrol with the horses outside the trees and continue on foot – where to, he had no idea. If the Tremen Protectors were doing their job, he shouldn’t have to venture too far into the woody morass before they provided him with an escort. It would be wonderful to see Laryia again, and he needed to meet with the Clancouncil of his southern kin, for it was long overdue. But he couldn’t pretend that he was going for any other reason than to bring Kira home.
39
Caledon watched the last of the King’s Guard gallop back towards Maraschin, then hastened after Kira, who had all but disappeared into the trees covering the foothills. She had refused to stay in Maraschin more than two days, despite the fact that she looked tired and had lost the healthy curves evident at Laryia’s wedding. And she had refused Adris’s offer of an escort to Allogrenia, accepting one only as far as the Azurcades, and then only because Caledon had told her that to refuse would be to compromise Adris’s friendship with the northern Feailner.