o0o
Castandra Val Torska fastened the clasp of the ponderous sapphire and silver necklace and stared at her reflection in the mirror of her dressing table. How pale she looked compared to the brilliant fire of the gemstones! How frail her slender neck and the cage of her ribs where the necklace rested almost painfully. She rose from her chair, slowly, heavily, grasping the edge of her vanity, using it to push herself up. Her knee jarred one leg of the table, and her mirror crashed to the floor at her feet. A thousand shards of glass, a thousand shards of light, brighter and brighter, moving and changing, and the sound of the crash went on and on, condensed, moved together, became a roar. Dazzling prisms, sun on rushing water. She bent to look, and the heavy necklace pulled her down, down, down, into the cataract, over her head.
When she screamed, she woke.
Chapter Five
He brought her rubies, brought her pearls,
From far across the seas.
He brought her flowing silken gowns,
But each gift failed to please.
He traveled long to find his love,
Fine horses and warm fur,
But all she wanted was a man
To stay on land with her.
-- Lhantian sailor's song
Stableboys scrambled diligently to pack the mules, and as the boys worked, their glances darted now and then to the austere taskmaster who appraised their progress with a hawk's hard glare. With Olkor on guard, Caldan knew he need not worry about adequate provisions and well-balanced loads for the animals. The latter especially would be critical once they reached Tarska, for though spring was but a few weeks away, even the low mountain trail to Hawkshold would be treacherous with ice and snow. A shifted burden, a misplaced hoof, and they could lose a mule. Or worse.
Despite the anticipated hardships, he was anxious to leave. Only the frantic pace of the past few days had kept his mind from the Queen's amorous attentions. She grew increasingly aggressive. Had he stayed…
So much, all so delicately balanced.
But at least now Elzin would be safe. Surely she would prosper, despite her "secret". As for the rest, he would not think of it now. He was too tired, anyway, to deal with it; in two and a half days he had slept only twice, each time convincing Olkor to wake him after only several hours. Olkor was mortified at the thought of breaking his cycle of sleep, but his old friend had chosen his part and he played it well. Ever the obedient servant, Olkor had awakened him as instructed.
Outside of those few, precious hours, he had labored unceasingly over trade agreements and port duties, a policy for dealing with the recent rash of piracy, plans for expanding the national merchant and military fleets, and an acceptable strategy to levy the taxes to pay for it all. Naturally, the influential lord councilors from the prosperous valley and harbor provinces thought that Tarska should take the brunt of the greater tax levy. He knew that his fairer proposal would not pass in his absence, but neither would it have passed had he remained behind.
If only the Council of Lords might be abolished, the petty squabbling ended, decisions made swiftly and conscientiously. Gods! Five months to decide how to deal with the packs of ocean going thieves. Five months of ships, cargo and lives lost while indolent nobles argued, as they gorged on sweetmeats and wine, over who would pay to hunt the brigands down. Lhant's economy depended on the tariffs the merchants of Egia and Buktoz paid to use the island's harbors. The council's opinion was that pirates or no, the merchant ships must stop at Lhant for provisions. It had taken him weeks to convince a majority that if the thieves made sea trade unprofitable, there would be no ships.
He opened the door to the stable and a warm draft rushed to greet him. Inside the air was humid, ripe with the animal smells of manure, sweat and urine, and over all the sweet scent of well-cured hay. He removed his light cloak and hung it on a nail. A blazed head thrust over a stall door and a lusty neigh rang down the wide stable aisle. Torovorhn, "Thunder of the Avalanche"--here just Thunder--drummed his hooves against the sand floor until the highlander swatted him lightly on the neck.
"Patience, Thunder." The stallion arched his neck and rumbled deep in his chest for answer. Caldan tweaked a lock of the blood bay's mane. "I doubt your harem has forgotten you."
Gusting a hay-sweet sigh, the horse pricked up his ears. The count looked up expectantly.
o0o
Elzin wrinkled her nose at the barn's strange odor. Her father kept no animals at the mill, save the half-wild cats he never fed to encourage them to keep the grain free of vermin. The smell did not daunt her, though. Caldan had promised her a horse, and she had always wanted to ride one. It would be so aristocratic to sit high above the crowds upon a fine, noble steed. She hoped her horse would be white. She liked white.
Her magical necklace was hidden away; anticipation gave her cheeks a merry glow. A wide, warm smile blossomed on her face when she spotted Caldan.
But his bow was formal, his inquiry about her health too polite. He received her so coolly she stepped back in surprise, treading on the toe of her closest guard.
The guards! Of course. She was not within her bedroom, behind a bolted door. Elzin flushed and mumbled something she hoped would pass as a suitable reply. How could she have thought badly of him? Up close Caldan looked so weary and strained; she wanted to sit him down beside a roaring fire, hold his hand and have him unburden himself to her.
Why was he so tired? Was she the cause? Did her welfare concern him so much?
"Have you ever ridden before, Great Lady?"
Her previous excitement returned in a rush. "No, but I can't wait to try."
"I will find you a suitable mount." Elzin's two guards stood at attention inside the stable door as Count Val Torska led her down the opposing rows of stalls. He stopped before one, over which hung a large brown head set on a thick neck. The gelding studied them calmly for a moment, then lipped up the few wisps of hay that had fallen to the floor from his rick.
"Tutor will serve you well; no one could wish for a more trustworthy and willing mount. While not fast, he is strong, and will handle himself well in the mountain snows." Val Torska diplomatically did not add that Tutor would put up with infinitely more of the typical bouncing, kicking, and hauling on the reins that marked the novice rider.
Elzin reached out a hand to pat the gelding's furry winter coat. Tutor was hardly the fiery steed she had imagined herself riding, but she gamely kept her disappointment to herself. "I'm sure he'll be fine, Count Val Torska. Thank you."
The blonde stuck her hands in her pockets. "When are we going to leave?"
"The pack mules are nearly loaded. We will be on our way within the hour."
"Beksann has had me packed since five minutes after I told her we would be going." With ten Royal Elite, one taster, a physician and two personal attendants in her entourage--not counting the mules loaded with food and baggage and tents--she felt like an Egian princess on a wedding pilgrimage. She hoped they would take the long route through the city so that she'd have lots of people to wave to. "I'm so glad the weather is nice. How long do you think it will take us to reach Tarska?"
"A month, if all goes well and this dry weather holds. We will skirt the mountains where possible on the way to Hawkshold, and that should also speed us along. Yes, Olkor?"
"My Lord, the beasts are loaded."
"The horses, then. And, if you would, fetch the girls."
"Of course, My Lord."
"Now, Saire Elzin," he said, tucking her arm in his. "If you would join me, we will wait while your horse is saddled."
o0o
"Oh my! Oh, Telriss! Oh, I can't believe it!"
"Your horse, Saire Elzin."
It was Tutor, wasn't it? And his raiment seemed to inspire even him. He pranced as a groom trotted him out, and the yards of rich crimson velvet that curtained him from head to hock rippled, blazing with light as if littered with diamonds.
Why, there were gems! Everywhere! In every shape and size. Square an
d round and oval and rectangle, they flashed like miniature suns. Faceted teardrops clung to their red velvet moorings, scattering rainbows with every bounce.
"Diamonds?" she said.
"No, Great Lady, mere crystal. Saire Fethzann commissioned it made in the year 661," said the count. "I thought you might appreciate its restoration."
"Oh, Caldan, it's beautiful. Beautiful!" She almost embraced him, but at the last instant remembered to hug Tutor instead. "I always wanted a velvet dress. Who'd have thought one day even my horse would wear one? Oh! Feel it? It's soft as cream!" Her fingers busily explored as she spoke. "We will go through the city, won't we? Think of how the people will stare. And Tutor, I can't believe it! Even you look dashing!"
The gelding dropped his nose and snorted wetly.
"No offense." She patted his neck, then looked up. Way up, at the scarlet saddle perched high on his back. She grimaced. "Goddess, you're big. It'll be like climbing a mountain to get up there."
"Have no fear," said Caldan. "I will see you make a safe ascent."
Steel-shod hooves drew sparks from the cobbled courtyard and a tall silver-grey horse danced sideways to meet them, its rider, resplendent in heavy blue skirts and jacket trimmed in ermine, as unruffled as her mount appeared agitated. Two hounds, exact replicas of Caldan's own but for their silver fur, circled around and around the excited mare, always careful to stay out of reach of those restless hooves. They had no collars, Elzin noticed, then realized that the councilor's coursers lacked their customary jeweled ones as well.
"Father, Olkor has Thunder ready."
"Castandra . . ."
"Oh!" The girl blushed as she sighted the Saire peeping at her from around the sorrel's neck. She immediately alighted from her steed and gave Elzin the deepest of curtsies, nearly touching her elaborate coiffure to the ground.
Count Val Torska gave her an affectionate smile, "Saire Elzin, I would like to present to you my occasionally inattentive daughter, the Lady Castandra Val Torska."
"I was remiss, Great Lady. Please forgive me."
Although this was their first formal introduction, Elzin knew the sorceress from the times the Queen had called upon her to secure the secrecy of special counsel. The younger girl's effortless aristocratic bearing had impressed her at first, but after several weeks of disgustingly humble scrape-the-floor curtsies and a cool admonishment for an attempt to pet her dogs, Elzin began to think her more intolerably prissy than anything else. Still, the girl handled her spirited mare well enough, and she was, after all, Caldan's daughter.
"No apology needed, Lady Val Torska," Elzin told her amiably. "I'm pleased to meet you --"
"Saire Elzin!"
"Uh-oh."
Duke Gold trundled out to join them. A round ball of layered furs, he looked as if the first puff of wind might roll him off his feet.
"Saire Elzin," he repeated reproachfully. "I am certain that I speak not only for myself, but for the rest of the responsible members of the Council of Lords as well. I insist that you give up this folly. Nothing but trouble can come of your meddling in diplomacy, and, I might add, your background hardly --"
Elzin placed two fists on her generous hips and stuck out her jaw. "Would you look at that? One of the Queen's lapdogs has escaped. Shoo! Go bark at a cat, or piddle on a tree--do something useful for a change."
Gold's face, what little could be seen beneath the furs, colored bright as blood. "I wouldn't be so bold, if I were you. By Shador, I'm surprised you'd want to show your face. You might be Saire now, but you were born nothing better than a common wench, and conducted yourself like something far lower."
"So that's what this is about. What I want to know, Gold, is what makes you hate me more--all the men I didn't refuse, or the fact that I always refused you?"
"And may I remind you, My Lord Gold," Caldan said with frosty gentleness, forestalling any rejoinder from the trembling councilor, "that the Queen herself has charged the Great Lady with this task? To come to the Saire of your own accord and demand that she lay it aside not only professes a lack of confidence in the judgement of Her Majesty, it might be misconstrued as treason."
"Treason! You wouldn't dare, Val Torska, and the Queen would never believe--that I--that is, she knows--" He sputtered to a stop, jaw grinding. "Wretched savage. I know how you would like to twist my words and my intent, but I am the loyal servant of Her Royal Majesty. I had no idea this was by her command. I was simply doing my sworn duty as a lord councilor to serve the best interests of --"
"--yourself," interrupted Elzin. "That's the person you're always serving, isn’t it? Well, I'm Saire now. I don't have to listen to you, I don't have to let you bully me, why, I don't even have to be polite to you anymore. I can tell you just what I think of you. For example: has anyone told you, Duke Gold, that in all those ratty furs you look just like something the stable cat coughed up?"
"How dare--!"
"Scat, Gold," she ordered. "Go away, before I curse you in the Saireflute's name. Oh, yes--I know all about that. No more Playings for you. Think of all the gossip you'll miss. Think of how the other lords will gossip about you! You know, it sounds like so much fun, I just might do it anyway."
"Great Lady--"
"Now how did that curse go . . . ?"
The duke bent his fat little body to her in an awkward bow, but when he straightened he turned to Caldan.
"You may be gone a very long time, Count Val Torska, but rest assured Her Majesty will hear your name often. I'll see to it personally."
"Your attention flatters me, My Lord Gold."
"You'll have all of it. I promise."
"Duke Gold," said Elzin with a frown, "this is the last time I'll warn you that all this talk is keeping me from my parade."
"I'm leaving at once, Great Lady." He rushed through a bow. He looked so funny as he waddled off that she smirked his back all the way out of earshot.
"Well, what do you think?" she asked Caldan.
"You have certainly… impressed him."
"Really? Well, what a coincidence. I think I even impressed myself." She grinned at Castandra, to include her in the fun, but the sorceress only glowered and stepped effortlessly into her saddle. Hallowed amber moon, what was wrong with that girl? She couldn't possibly like Duke Gold, could she?
"With your leave, Father, I will tell Olkor you are ready for Thunder."
"Yes, thank you."
Excusing herself, the girl whirled the mare away, light as a snowflake on the breath of winter. The rings that she wore on the outside of her gloves winked once before horse and rider disappeared around the corner of the stable.
Goddess, she was so disgustingly perfect. A perfect snot, Elzin told herself.
"Tutor requires but one more thing to complete his splendor."
"There's more?" Tutor had more gear on him than the rest of the horses all put together. What else could he possibly need?
"His rider. If you are ready, Great Lady?"
The count laced his strong fingers together to assist her to mount, and just like that, Tutor began to grow, inexplicably, bigger and bigger, like the enchanted potato in a fable she had heard at her mother's knee.
"I, um… I wonder… don't you think that maybe a carriage…?" She snapped her fingers. "Why, yes, a carriage! A carriage would be just the thing. It would be nice if I could sit all the way and--"
"A carriage would be bogged down by the spring mires, and in Tarska, there are no roads fit for wheels of any kind. You must ride, Great Lady; best that you learn here, where the terrain is not so demanding."
o0o
This is the most wonderful moment of my life. Blue eyes bright with anticipation, Elzin grinned and waved at the busy throngs along the trading quays.
The crowds promptly made way, averting their eyes from the ranks of Royal Elite. A woman scooped up a shrieking child and slunk aboard one of the dilapidated barter wrecks to disappear between a jumble of broken crates. Merchants covered their wares. No! thought Elzin.
These are my Elite, not Hulgmal's. I'm not like that at all! Like patches of late snow caught by the sun, the throngs melted away. Only a few ragged youngsters remained, staring upward at her finery
To mask the dull ache of disappointment, Elzin smiled and waved down to the children. But even that modest pleasure dimmed when she saw that the small hands which waved back were upturned, and the chorus which shouted to her begged money. Blushing, she realized she hadn't even any coins to offer.
Leaving the unnatural stillness of the wharves, the new Saire sighed with frustration. Entire blocks containing bakeries and boarding houses, weavers and wainwrights had closed their shutters for the passing of her entourage. The only sound, besides the jingle of her gear and the heavy thud of hoofbeats, was the ferocious barking of a solitary, great, gold dog, which stood defiantly before an empty forge.
Why, just a few weeks ago she had shopped these very streets! Over there was the butcher's, just beside the alehouse where she'd tarried from her chores. The alehouse, where she'd heard stories passed in whispers of the Queen's elite and how they'd lately come to drag away anyone rumored to disparage Her Majesty. If they didn't catch the suspect for a round in Hulgmal's dungeons -- no matter. They'd grab another in his place. After all, it would never do for the Queen's elite to return from their mission empty-handed. One way or another, Hulgmal would have her blood.
So this was fear, Elzin thought as she stared through a vacant courtyard. And this was what it was to be feared. A wave of revulsion swept over her, savage as a riptide.
Quickly, the blonde squeezed shut her eyes and tried to concentrate on something pleasant. Today, she was, for the very first time, aboard a horse. A horse all decorated finely as a new ship's christening cake. She reached out to stroke her mount's velveted neck. May the Goddess lead this horse to take her out of Sheldwinn, and out of Hulgmal's reach.
o0o
Soon, the Saire began to wonder why she had ever wished to ride a horse at all. It no longer felt glamorous, and she imagined that all her bouncing and jostling did not look very regal either. As the long hours passed, she noticed the glittering, snow-covered scenery less and less as her attention turned to the aching soreness in her muscles. The bouncing left her nauseated. She had been sick that morning, but normally her belly gave her peace in the afternoon. By nightfall and the inn, only the memory of her father, hurling stones, kept her from insisting that they all return home.
The Night Holds the Moon Page 7