The Betrayal

by Pati Nagle

  She took two breaths and closed her eyes, swallowing.

  My answer is yes.

  She sensed his sudden alertness, his wordless query. She swallowed.

  I will be handfasted with you.

  A stillness drew her attention back to the council chamber even as his elation filled her mind. All the councillors were watching her in varying degrees of doubt, and Lord Rephanin was staring at her with unpleasant intensity.

  I must go!

  Abruptly Eliani's mind closed to him, but Turisan's heart had no room for disappointment. She had agreed!

  His soul thundered with joy. Opening his eyes, he strode to the edge of the rock, gazed southward in the direction of Glenhallow, flung his arms wide, and gave a wordless cry of triumph.

  “I take it the test was successful.”

  Turning, he saw Luruthin watching him with a wry expression. Half-wild with happiness, Turisan could not begin to form an explanation.

  He looked down at the pages in his hand and laughed softly, then folded them and slipped them into his leathers. Striding back along the tower to the head of the trail, he glanced over his shoulder, grinning at Luruthin.

  “Let us ride.”

  Eliani rose from her chair, unnerved by the intense gazes of the councillors. She picked up the two pages she had written, handed one to her father beside her with a small smile, and carried the other to Lord Jharan. As she returned to her seat, her father met her with a beaming face.

  “Word for word.”

  Lord Jharan looked up from the page in his hand, then let it drop to the table. “Word for word.”

  A murmur rose within the chamber. Eliani stood behind her chair, held by Lord Jharan's intent gaze. She sensed Rephanin's eyes upon her as well, and others.

  Lord Jharan bowed. “I felicitate you, Lady Eliani.”

  She looked down at the table and noticed a stray drop of ink. How careless of her.

  “Do you hold by your offer to ride to Fireshore?”

  “Yes.”

  He gave a single nod. “We shall make arrangements for your departure tomorrow morning, then. Forty guardians will accompany you—if you think that number sufficient, Lord Felisan?”

  Her father raised his eyebrows and glanced her way with a smile. “More than sufficient. I would send only ten. Fireshore is not our enemy, after all.”

  “Twenty guardians, then.” Jharan nodded to an attendant, who hastened away. Another attendant stepped forward to speak softly with the governor.

  Eliani quietly resumed her seat, then leaned toward Heléri. “I want to talk with you.”

  Heléri nodded, her gaze on Lord Jharan. The governor of Southfæld swept a glance around the chamber, then spoke.

  “My lords, my ladies, it is well past midday. Let us pause for a time. Refreshment awaits those who wish it in the feast hall.”

  The chime was rung, and the councillors arose from their seats. Several came to offer their congratulations to Eliani. More gazed at her sidelong or murmured together out of her hearing.

  She stood up, glancing at Heléri, who nodded and moved toward the outer door. Lord Rephanin swept up to them, blocking their way.

  “Did you have any difficulty hearing the message?” His voice was sharp, his gaze challenging.

  Eliani was annoyed but kept calm. “No. It was as if Lord Turisan stood before me.”

  Rephanin seemed not to like her answer. He made no move to step aside. “Five leagues is nothing compared with the distance to Fireshore.”

  “Let be for now, Rephanin.”

  He shot a glance at Heléri then, to Eliani's surprise, stepped aside. With one long, narrow look at Eliani, he turned and passed into the feast hall.

  Eliani gave her eldermother a grateful look. Heléri smiled back.

  “Shall we retire to my chamber? Or are you hungry?”

  Eliani shook her head. “Not hungry.”

  She led the way out to the arcade. Heléri followed, drawing her veil over her face against the daylight.

  Lady Heléri's chamber was as dark as draperies could make it, save for the fire burning low on the hearth. Every window had been shrouded, and the door covered with a heavy tapestry. Heléri kindled lanterns on the table and in sconces, then moved to the fireside and sat in a wide, low chair.

  Still standing, Eliani gazed at her eldermother. She felt rather stunned.

  “I have agreed to be handfasted.”

  Heléri raised her eyebrows, then smiled. “I wish you all happiness, my child.”

  “Is it a mistake?”

  “Dear child. That I cannot tell you.”

  Eliani felt her heart filling with conflicting feelings. She let them spill out as she paced the room.

  “He is so far above me. He is much more experienced, and knows everything about the high court and about governance. I will be expected to live up to him!”

  “You are heir to the governorship of Alpinon. It is not so unequal a match.”

  Eliani gave a short laugh. “If I had spent more time learning from my father instead of riding with the Guard—I am not fit for much within palace walls.”

  She paused, realizing with the words that handfasting would mean leaving her clan, aligning with Greenglen. She could not ask Turisan to renounce his position and come to Alpinon; Southfæld was much more important. She would have to leave Stonereach. Leave High-stone. She frowned.

  “You are fitter than you know. Turisan has chosen wisely. He is devoted to you, as even you must know by now, Eliani. I think you need not fear him.”

  “I do not.” She turned to look at Heléri. “I do not fear him. I fear my own failure.”

  “You must not have felt so when you agreed. What is different now?”

  Eliani struggled to remember the clarity of that moment. “I—it felt right. I knew it was right.”

  She came to sit beside Heléri and stared into the fire. There was much she did not know of Turisan, it was true. Much for them to learn of each other. Remembering the calm she had felt as he spoke to her from Skyruach, she understood now that what had made her agree to be handfasted was that steadiness, that clarity and gentleness, that was his touch in thought.

  She could no longer deny her desire for him, which seemed to increase with each passing moment. Desire alone, however, was not enough for a successful match, as she well knew.

  A sharp knocking on the door to Heléri's chamber startled Eliani. She rose at the sound, glancing at her eldermother as an imperative voice came through the door.

  “Heléri, I would speak with you.”

  It sounded like Lord Rephanin's voice. Eliani took a step toward the door, but Heléri stayed her with a gesture. She watched her eldermother rise and draw a breath as if to calm herself, then slowly walk to the door and open it.

  Rephanin stood in the corridor, his eyes dark in the shadow of his hood. “I congratulate you on finding a mindspeaker, my lady. I suppose you knew of her potential when you brought her here? You might have informed me.”

  Heléri's brows drew together. She pushed wide the door, stepping back and gesturing to him to enter.

  “You are mistaken. I did not bring her here.” She glanced toward Eliani.

  Rephanin's gaze followed hers, and he looked briefly startled. It seemed he had not known Eliani was there. He stepped in and closed the door, shutting out the daylight, then put back his hood and gazed at Eliani with an intensity she now found familiar, if still uncomfortable. When he moved toward her, she put up her chin, watching him warily.

  “Look at her. Hardly more than a child.” Rephanin's gaze shifted to Heléri. “Turisan is not the best choice to guide her.”

  “They will find their way.”

  Rephanin shook his head. “Two children in the dark. We cannot afford it in these times.”

  Eliani began to feel insulted, and decided it was time she took part in this discussion. She stepped toward Rephanin.

  “We are both experienced in the guardian arts, if that is what
you mean, my lord.”

  Rephanin turned gray eyes on her, a wry smile curving his lips. “Guardians are expendable. I meant that your gift needs shaping, my lady. You do not even know its limits. Suppose you find them tomorrow as you gallop northward? What then?”

  Eliani felt dismayed, for she had not considered that possibility. She was spared having to answer by Heléri's gentle voice.

  “I do not think that will be the case, Rephanin. Their gift is as powerful as any I have witnessed.”

  This seemed to anger the magelord. He stared at Eliani, his expression hungry.

  “Such a gift deserves experienced guidance.”

  “They shall have it.”

  Rephanin looked at Heléri. “Yours?”

  “And yours, if you will offer it. Should we speak privately of this?”

  Rephanin seemed to take this as a challenge, for his eyes narrowed as he stared at Heléri. To Eliani's surprise, it was he who looked away. Heléri's voice was gentle as she spoke.

  “They discovered their gift in Alpinon, Rephanin. Just after Evennight. I learned of it afterward.”

  The magelord froze at her words, and a look of grief fleeted across his face. He cast one glance at Eliani—almost desperate, she thought—then strode to the door and went out without another word.

  Heléri sighed. “You must pardon him, Eliani. He is not himself.”

  “But why is he angry with me?”

  Eliani turned her back on the door and went to stir the fire, catching up an iron poker more elaborate than any such tool had a right to be and plunging it into the coals. Heléri joined her at the hearth, resuming her seat.

  “Not angry. Envious. He has long coveted a gift such as yours.”

  Astonished, Eliani turned to look at her. “He is a mindspeaker! Turisan said he can speak to anyone!”

  “Anyone in his presence. Though he did not speak to me just now. Did he—”

  “No, thank the spirits!” Eliani stabbed the poker into the fire's heart, raising sparks.

  Heléri sat watching quietly for some moments. Having relieved her feelings, Eliani put aside the poker and returned to her chair to sit glowering at the flames. Heléri turned to her.

  “Rephanin can speak to anyone in his presence, but only while they remain in his presence. He cannot speak across distance, nor even through closed doors. Distance speech is the gift he craves, and I am afraid that your finding it has vexed him.”

  “He may have my share and welcome!”

  Heléri met Eliani's gaze, plainly amused. Eliani reluctantly smiled back. She had not meant it, she silently acknowledged. For all her protests, she would not now relinquish her gift, even if it were possible.

  Glenhallow lay before the two returning riders, its golden walls pale in the light of a rising moon. Turisan gazed at them, feeling less exhilarated than he had when they had left Skyruach. The long ride back had given him ample time for doubt, and he worried that Eliani might change her mind.

  An agreement to make a pledge was not the pledge itself, and where handfastings were concerned, the creed's stricture of keeping faith was held not to be in effect until the actual handfasting was performed. Eliani could, without need for atonement or even explanation, withdraw at any time before the ceremony, and he feared she might do so.

  He had sent no questing thoughts toward her as he rode. Now, as they let their horses take an easy pace across the center bridge, he ventured to break silence.

  Eliani? We are approaching the city gates.

  We await you in the public circle.

  The circle?

  Jharan has decreed that you be given formal welcome.

  Turisan winced. My father.

  Amusement rippled through her khi, making him abandon the apology it had been his first instinct to offer. He felt a swell of love for her, so strong he feared it would be expressed in his khi. He glanced toward Luruthin, who seemed absorbed in his own thoughts.

  The outer gate was opened to them by a contingent of guardians. The street between the two walls was lined with folk, many bearing torches and lanterns, and the inner gate, too, was tended by guardians. As the ornately worked barriers swung open, Turisan saw that the crowd was much thicker along the main avenue. Blessings and good wishes blended into one long, happy cheer.

  An escort of guardians preceded him and Luruthin up the avenue. A horn sounded as the riders reached the public circle's east side. Attendants came forward to take the horses, and as Turisan dismounted, he traded a glance with Luruthin, who looked rather overwhelmed. Turisan himself had not seen such a gathering that he could remember.

  Two lines of guardians held clear a passage from the avenue to the circle's center, where all the Council stood gathered beneath pennons fluttering by torchlight in a crisp evening breeze. Turisan could see Eliani waiting there with Jharan and Felisan at the base of the falcon. His heart beat faster at the thought of being near her. He wished all these hundreds of well-wishers elsewhere.

  A second horn sounded as he and Luruthin arrived in the center of the circle. Without pausing, Turisan drew the folded pages from his tunic—ribbons dangling loose from the seals—and walked straight to Eliani to place them in her hands.

  The ghost of a smile that crossed her lips was reward enough. She looked up at him, and as their gazes met, a cheer broke forth from the assembled crowd.

  The horn pierced through the noise, calling stridently for attention. Jharan stepped forward and bowed to his son.

  “Welcome, Lord Turisan. You and Lady Eliani have given us new hope today. May your gift serve us well in these direful times.”

  He offered his arm and clasped Turisan's tightly, then turned to Luruthin, thanking him for his part in the day's test. He kept his remarks short, to Turisan's immense relief. In a few moments the guardians opened a new path eastward into the palace, and Jharan indicated that his son should lead the Council in.

  Turisan turned to Eliani, bowed gravely, and offered his arm. She laid her hand on it, causing a delicious prickling of khi to climb up to his shoulder as he led her toward the palace to the accompaniment of cheers.

  May I have a private word with you, my lady?

  You are.

  I mean, may I see you privately?

  He sensed her hesitation. Lady Jhinani has arranged a reception in your honor.

  In our honor.

  He turned his head to look at her, saw a slight flush wash into her cheek. He had no wish to embarrass her in the midst of this crush of folk.

  Afterward, perhaps?

  All right. Yes, we must discuss tomorrow.

  As they passed through Hallowhall's entrance, a new crowd greeted them. The heads of all Glenhallow's notable clans, visiting dignitaries from elsewhere in Southfæld, and it seemed every foreigner who had traveled to the Council were gathered in the great hall. They crowded around, each wanting to express good wishes. Talking with them was tiresome, and Turisan was anxious lest Eliani be overwhelmed by it, but she bore it patiently. She had kind words for each new person she met, and her thanks were sincere, even the hundredth time she expressed them.

  This was Felisan's daughter, the confident lady he had seen in Highstone at Evennight. Turisan felt proud of her, the more because he knew that she, like he, disliked this sort of occasion.

  Once the feasting has commenced, we can escape.

  But not yet.

  He followed Eliani's gaze and saw Jhinani approaching, dressed in formal robes glinting with silver. She smiled as she offered both hands to Turisan. She had stood as a mother to him after her sister had crossed, and it was a mother's pride that shone in her eyes now. She squeezed his hands, then released one and offered it to Eliani.

  “Welcome, Lord Turisan, Lady Eliani! Congratulations on your success!”

  Turisan nodded, and Eliani murmured her thanks. Jhinani looked past them, smiling.

  “And Theyn Luruthin. You will be remembered for your part in this day's events.”

  Eliani stepped aside,
allowing Luruthin to come forward. He bowed.

  “I thank you, though my part was small and will not be remembered long.”

  “Oh, no! It is already being wrought into song!”

  Luruthin blinked. “Song?”

  Felisan stepped up beside him. “In golden chords, Cousin! You three will live in legend. Talinan the bard is here and has already composed seven verses. I have heard them. ‘The riders twain to Skyruach made them haste, Lord Turisan and Luruthin the bold—’”

  Luruthin looked dismayed. “Oh, no!”

  “It is a most excellent ballad! Jhinani, I have spoken with Talinan, and he is willing to sing what is finished to night.”

  Jhinani smiled. “By all means. Invite him to go to the gallery. Our minstrels will accompany him if he desires it.”

  “He is already with them.” Felisan nodded toward the gallery above, where two musicians were playing while the rest had their heads together in animated discussion.

  Jhinani glanced toward them, then turned back to Turisan and Eliani. “A fitting tribute, I am sure. To -night we celebrate what you have accomplished this day and the promise of your gift for the future!”

  She raised a hand, and the tall doors into the feast hall swung open. The crowd surged toward it, sweeping them along. Turisan and Eliani were separated quickly, much to his annoyance. Surrounded by well-wishers, they could scarcely move.

  Turisan began to edge his way toward the back of the hall, hoping to break free. He kept his eye on Eliani while he answered questions and accepted praises. She was being pressed toward the banquet table, which was laden with the elegant art of Hallowhall's kitchens.

  There is a door behind you, just the other side of the table. If you move toward the honey cakes, you may be able to slip through it.

  Ah, I see it. Shall I bring you a cake?

  Her playfulness gave him sudden hope. If she could tease him, she must be comfortable enough with him. He hungered not for cakes but for the sweetness of her lips.

  Follow the corridor to your right, and you will reach the arcade. I will meet you there.