“Well, perhaps Elorie is not a fool,” Jaelle admitted grudgingly. “She is clever enough—but already she has learned not to be caught thinking when her father or her brothers are in the room. She pretends she is as foolish as the rest of them!”
Kindra concealed a smile. “Then perhaps she is cleverer than you realize—for she can think her own thoughts without being reproved for it—something that you have not yet learned, my dearest. Come, let us go up, let me pay my respects to Lady Rohana. I am eager to see her again.”
“When can we go home, Kindra? Tomorrow?” Jaelle asked eagerly.
“By no means,” Kindra said, scandalized. “I have been invited to make a visit here for a tenday or more; too much haste would be disrespectful to your kinfolk, as if you could not wait to be gone.”
“Well, I can’t,” muttered Jaelle, but before Kindra’s stern glance she could not say it aloud. She called a groom to have Kindra’s horse taken and stabled, then led Kindra toward the front steps where Rohana awaited them.
As the women greeted one another with an embrace, Jaelle stood at a little distance, looking at them side by side and studying the contrasts.
Rohana, Lady of Ardais, was a woman in her middle thirties. Her hair was the true Comyn red of the hereditary Comyn caste and was ornately arranged at the back of her neck, clasped with a copper butterfly-clasp ornamented with pearls. She was richly dressed in a long elegant over-gown of blue velvet almost the color of her eyes. Her thin light-colored undergown was heavily embroidered and the overgown trimmed at the neck and sleeves with thick dark fur. Now the rich garments looked clumsy, her body swollen with her pregnancy.
By contrast to Rohana, Kindra appeared frankly middle-aged, a tall lanky woman in the boots and breeches of an Amazon, which made her long legs look even longer than they were. Her face was thin, almost gaunt, and her face, as well as her close-cropped gray hair, looked weathered and was beginning to be wrinkled with small lines round the eyes and mouth. Almost for the first time, Jaelle wondered how old Kindra was. She had always seemed ageless. She was older than Rohana—or was it only that Rohana’s relatively sheltered and pampered life had preserved the appearance of youth?
“Well, come in, my dears,” Rohana said, slipping one arm through Kindra’s and the other through Jaelle’s. “I hope you can pay us a good long visit. Surely you did not ride alone all the way from Thendara?”
Jaelle wondered scornfully if Rohana thought Kindra would be afraid to make such a journey alone—as she, Rohana, might have been afraid. To her the question would have been insulting; but Kindra answered uncritically that she had had company past the path for Scaravel: a group of mountain explorers going into the far Hellers and three Guild-sisters hired to guide them.
“Rafaella was with them, and she sent you her love and greetings, Jaelle. She has missed you, and so has her little girl Doria. They both hoped you would be with them another time.”
“Oh, I wish Rafi had come here with you,” Jaelle cried. “She is almost my closest friend!”
“Well, perhaps she will be back in Thendara by the time we are able to return there,” Kindra said, smiling. She added to Rohana, “Mostly it was a group of Terrans from the new spaceport; they are trying to map the Hellers—the roads, the mountain peaks and so forth.”
“Not for military purposes, I hope,” Rohana said.
“I believe not, simply for information,” Kindra replied. “The Terrans all appear to have a passion, from what I know of them, for all kinds of useless knowledge: the height of mountains, the sources of rivers and so forth—I cannot imagine why, but such things might be useful even to our people who must travel in the mountains.”
They were now well inside the great hallway, and Jaelle noted, standing in the corner where a heap of hunting equipment was piled, Lord Gabriel Ardais, Rohana’s husband and the Warden and head of the Domain of Ardais. He was a tall man with a smart military bearing that somehow gave his old hunting clothes the look of a uniform.
“You have guests, Rohana? You did not warn me to expect company,” he said gruffly.
“Strictly speaking, the lady is Jaelle’s guest, Kindra n’ha Mhari, from the Thendara Guild House,” Rohana said calmly, “but though she journeyed here to bring Jaelle home, she is my friend, and I have invited her to stay and keep me company now I must be confined so close to house and garden.”
Dom Gabriel’s mobile face darkened with disapproval as his gaze fell on Kindra’s trousered and booted legs, but as Rohana spoke, his face softened, and he spoke with perfect courtesy. “Whatever you wish, my love. Mestra,” he used the term of courtesy from a nobleman to a female of a lower class, “I bid you welcome; any guest of my lady’s is a welcome and a cherished guest in my home. May your stay here be joyful.”
He went on, leading the way into the upper hall, “Did I hear you speaking of Terranan in the Hellers? Those strange creatures who claim to be from other worlds, come here in closed litters of metal across the gulf of the stars? I thought that was a children’s tale.”
“Whatever they may be, vai dom, theirs is no children’s tale,” Kindra replied. “I have seen the great ships in which they come and go, and one of the professors in the City was allowed to journey with them to the moon Liriel, where they have set up what they call an observatory, to study the stars.”
“And the Hastur-lords permitted it?”
“I think perhaps, sir, if we are only one of many great worlds among the stars, it may not be of much moment whether the Hastur-lords permit or no,” Kindra returned deferentially. “One thing is certain, such a truth will change our world and things can never be as they have been before this time.”
“I don’t see why that need be,” Dom Gabriel said in his usual gruff tone. “What have they to do with me or with the Domain? I say let ’em let us alone and we’ll let them alone—hey?”
“You may be right, sir; but I would say if these folk have the wisdom to travel from world to world, they may have much to teach us,” Kindra said.
“Well, they’d better not come here to Ardais trying to teach it. I’ll be the judge of what my folk should learn or not,” said Dom Gabriel, “and that’s that.” He marched to a high wooden sideboard where bottles and glasses were set out and began to pour. He said deferentially to Rohana, “I’m sure it would do you good, but I suppose you are still too queasy to drink this early, my love? And you, Mestra?”
“Thank you, sir, it is still a bit early for me,” Kindra said, shaking her head.
“Jaelle?”
“No, thank you, Uncle.” Jaelle said, trying to conceal a grimace of disgust.
Dom Gabriel poured himself a liberal drink and drank it off quickly, then, pouring another, took a relaxed sip. Rohana sighed and went to him, saying in a low tone, “Please, Gabriel, the steward will be here with the stud-books this morning, to plan the seasons of the mares.”
Dom Gabriel scowled and his face set in a stubborn line. He said, “For shame, Rodi, to speak of such things before a young maiden.”
Rohana sighed and said “Jaelle, too, is country-bred and as well acquainted with such things as our own children, Gabriel. Please try to be sober for him, will you?”
“I shall not neglect my duty, my dear,” Dom Gabriel said. “You attend to your business, Lady, and I shall not neglect mine.” He poured himself another drink. “I am sure a little of this would do your sickness good, my love; won’t you have some?”
“No, thank you, Gabriel; I have many things to see to this morning,” she said, sighing, and gestured to her guests to follow her up the stairs.
Jaelle said vehemently as soon as they were out of earshot, “Disgraceful! Already he is half drunk! And no doubt before the steward gets here, he will be dead drunk somewhere on the floor—unless his man remembers to come and get him into a chair—and no more fit to deal with the stud-books than I am to pilot one of the Terran starships!”
Rohana’s face was pale, but she spoke steadily. “It is not for you
to criticize your uncle, Jaelle. I am content if he drinks alone and does not get one of the boys to drinking with him. Rian already finds it impossible to carry his drink like a gentleman, and Kyril is worse. I do not mind attending to the stud-books.”
“But why do you let him make such a beast of himself, especially now?” Jaelle asked, casting a critical look at Rohana’s perceptibly thickened waistline.
“He drinks because he is in pain; it is not my place to tell him what he must do,” Rohana said. “Come, Jaelle, let us find a guest chamber near yours for Kindra. Then I must see if Valentine has been properly washed and fed, and if his nurse has taken him outdoors to play in the fresh air this morning.”
“I should think,” Kindra said, “that Jaelle would have quite taken over the care of her brother; you are a big girl now, Jaelle, almost a woman, and should know something of the care of children.”
Jaelle’s face drew up in distaste.
“I’ve no liking for having little bawling brats about me! What are the nurses good for?”
“Nevertheless, you are Valentine’s closest living kin; he has a right to your care and companionship,” Kindra urged quietly, “and you might take some of that burden from Lady Rohana who is burdened enough.”
Rohana laughed. She said “Let her alone, Kindra; I’ve no wish that she be burdened too young with children if she has no love for it. After all, he’s not neglected; Elorie cares for Valentine as if he were her own little brother—”
“The more fool she,” Jaelle interrupted, laughing.
“He must be quite a big boy now; four, is he not?” Kindra asked.
Rohana replied eagerly, “Yes, and he is such a sweet quiet little boy, very good, biddable, and gentle. One would never think—”
She broke off, but Jaelle took it up.
“Never think he was my brother? For I know very well, Aunt, that I am none of those things, and in fact I do not wish to be any of those things.”
“What I was about to say, Jaelle, is that one would hardly think him kin to my sons, boisterous as they are, or that one would hardly think him of Dry Town clan or kin.”
Kindra could almost hear what Rohana had started to say: one would hardly think his father a Dry Town bandit. She was astonished that Jaelle, who was after all of the telepathic blood of Comyn, could not understand what Rohana meant; but she held her peace. She liked Rohana very much and wished that the lady and her foster daughter were on better terms, yet it could not be amended by wishing. Rohana conducted her to a guest chamber and left her to unpack. Jaelle stayed, and dropped down on a saddlebag, her lanky knees drawn up, her gray eyes full of angry rebellion.
“You are still trying to turn me into a Comyn lady like Rohana! I should do this or that, I should look after my little brother, and I don’t know what all! Why do we have to stay here? Why can’t we start back to Thendara tomorrow? I want to go home! I thought that was why you were coming—to take me home! You promised, if I endured for a year, I would be allowed to take the Oath! Now how long will I have to wait?”
Kindra decided it was time to hit this spoiled girl with the truth of the situation. She drew the girl down, still protesting beside her.
“Jaelle, it is not certain that Comyn Council will give permission for you to take the Oath at all; the law still regards the Comyn Council as your legal guardians. Rohana was given your custody as a minor; a woman of the Domains is not like a commoner,” Kindra began. “I dare not risk angering your guardians. You know that the Guild House Charter exists by favor of Council; if we let you take the Oath without permission, our House could lose its Charter—”
“That is outrageous! They cannot do that to free citizens! Can they?”
“They can, Jaelle, but in general they would have no reason for doing so; for many years we have been careful not to infringe on their privileges. I am afraid it is just as simple as that.”
“Are you trying to say that for all the talk in the Oath of freedom—renounce forever any allegiance to family, clan, household, warden or liege lord, and owe allegiance only to the laws as a free citizen must . . . it is nothing but a sham? You taught me to believe in it . . .” the girl raged.
Kindra said steadily, “It is very far from a sham, Jaelle; it is an ideal, and it cannot be fully implemented in all times and conditions; our rulers are not yet sufficiently enlightened to allow its full perfection. One day perhaps it may be so, but now the world will go as it will and not as you or I would have it.”
“So I have to sit here in Ardais and obey that drunken old sot and that spineless nobody who sits by and smiles and says he must do what he will because she will not stop him—this is nobility indeed!”
“I can only beg of you to be patient, Jaelle. Lady Rohana is well disposed toward us, and her friendship may do much with the Council. But it would not be wise to alienate Dom Gabriel, either.”
“I would feel like such a hypocrite, to swarm about and curry favor with nobles—”
“They are your kin, Jaelle; it is no crime to seek their good will,” Kindra said wearily, unequal to the task of explaining diplomacy and compromise to the unbending young girl. “Will you help me unpack my garments, now? We will talk more of this later. And I would like to see your brother; my hands helped bring him into the world, and I promised your mother that I would try always to see to his well-being; and I try always to keep my word.”
“You have not kept your promise to me, that I should take Oath in a year,” Jaelle argued, but at Kindra’s angry look she knew she had exhausted even her foster-mother’s patience, so she began helping Kindra take out her meager stock of clothing from the saddlebags and lay it neatly away in chests.
II
One of the few tasks confronting Jaelle at Ardais which she felt fully compatible with her life as a Renunciate was the care of her own horse. Dom Gabriel and even Rohana would have felt it more suitable if she had left the beast’s welfare to the grooms, but they did not absolutely forbid her the stables. Almost every morning before sunrise she went out to the main stables to look after the fine plains-bred horse Rohana had presented her as a birthday gift, where she gave the beast its fodder and brushed it down. She also exercised her own horse and rode almost every day. Although she still resented not being allowed to ride astride, she was obedient to Rohana’s will, suspecting that yielding on this matter might be the price of being allowed to ride at all. No one could have said or suggested that Lady Rohana was not a good rider, although she was to all outward appearances the most conventional of women.
Jaelle suspected that Rohana was hoping to force her to admit that she could find as much pleasure in riding sidesaddle as in riding Amazon style in boots and breeches, but this, she was resolved, she would never do.
Perhaps, she thought, while Kindra was here—and Rohana could not constrain a guest to follow her customs—Rohana could be persuaded to allow her, Jaelle, to ride as Kindra did. She was intending to try, anyhow. Her own Renunciate clothing, which she had worn when she came here, was too small for her now. She had grown almost three inches, though she would never be really tall. Perhaps one of her cousins could be persuaded to lend her some breeches until she would have proper clothing made on returning to the Guild House. She certainly did not intend to ride back to Thendara in the ridiculous outfit which Rohana thought suitable for a young lady’s riding. The sort of riding-habit her cousin Elorie wore, a dark full-cut skirt and elegantly fitted jacket with velvet lapels, would be the mock of every Renunciate in the Guild House!
She took her horse out of the stall and began brushing down the glossy coat. She had heard Rohana and Kindra speak of hawking this day perhaps and meant to ask if she would be allowed to ride out with them. Before long, the horse’s coat gleamed like burnished copper, and she herself was warm and sweating profusely, despite the chill of the stable—it was so cold that her breath still came in a white cloud. She began to lead the horse back into its stall when a hand touched her, and she frowned, knowing the touch.
Her first impulse was to pick the hand off her like a crawling bug, perhaps with a fist-sized blow behind it; but if she was to persuade her cousin Kyril to lend her his riding-clothes, she did not want to alienate him too thoroughly.
Rohana’s elder son was seventeen years old, a year older than Jaelle herself. Like his father, he had dark crisply-curled hair; many of the Ardais men were dark rather than having the true-red hair of the Comyn. She had heard that this had come from alliances with the swarthy little men who lived in caves in the Hellers and worked the mines for metals, worshipping the fire-Goddess. A few of the Ardais kin, it was said, even had dark eyes like animals, but Jaelle had not seen that; certainly Kyril’s eyes were not dark, but blue as Rohana’s own. He was tall and broad-shouldered, but otherwise lean and narrowly built. His features were heavy, and at least to Jaelle’s eyes he had the same sullen mouth and weak chin as his father. Kyril would look better, she thought, when he was old enough to grow a beard and conceal it.
She shifted her weight a little so that Kyril’s hand fell away from her, and said, “What are you doing out so early, cousin?”
“I could ask the same of you,” Kyril said, grinning. “Have you stolen out this early to keep an assignation with one of the grooms? Which one has stolen your heart? Rannart? He is all a girl could desire; if he were a maiden I should swoon over those eyes of his, and I know Elorie seeks to touch his hand whenever he helps her into her saddle.”
Jaelle grimaced with revulsion. “Your mind is filthy, Kyril. And already you have been drinking, early as it is!”
“You sound like my mother, Jaelle; a little drink makes the bread go down easily at this hour and warms the body. Yours would be the better for a little warming.”
He winked at her suggestively, trying to slide an arm around her waist, and she said, concealing her annoyance and moving as far from him as the confines of the stall allowed, “I am as warm as I wish; I have been currying my horse, and I prefer exercise to drinking. I think you would be the better for a good run, and it would warm you better than whisky, believe me. I don’t like the smell or taste of the stuff and certainly not for breakfast.”
Marion Zimmer Bradley's Darkover Page 18