The Night Holds the Moon

by Roberts, Parke; Thompson, Colleen

  "Another offer, then. The same terms, with two changes. Give me until after the war, at which time you are released from your oath and morally free to stir up sedition--until, of course, you are exposed, at which time I will most certainly kill you. In return, I expect you to actively cooperate with me in the public eye."

  Listening to the usurper, Heratinn wondered how it was that Elzin loved this man. He was so unlike her that he could not imagine what they found to speak of. But then he recalled how charming the Tarskan could be when it suited him. He had even held the Queen's favor, and that had been no easy feat.

  And now, he held the favor of the Saire. Elzin, the most powerful woman in all of Lhant. Yes, the highlander could be very charming when it suited him.

  "I swore an oath upon the Saireflute, Your Majesty. I do not expect that you would understand what that means to me. Your honor may be in your tail; mine is in my heart. Still, what you offer has its appeal. I do wish you well in stopping the invasion, whatever my opinion of your methods. I am, after all, a citizen of Lhant.

  "So, I accept. You have my word that I will not participate in any sort of revolt before this war is at its end."

  Without malice, Caldan laughed. "Done, and well spoken. Still, you waste your breath to insult me. Thirty-eight years of 'savage', 'cannibal', and 'barbarian' have made me quite immune. As for my methods, let me be judged by the end result--a quick and decisive victory, without war's usual companions of famine and pestilence and despair. I will never understand why you would have your people suffer those before you would bear the mantle of dishonor, but I do not feel compelled to hate you for it. People often like most the things least like themselves. Let it be a mystery to you."

  Heratinn smiled grimly. "Very well, but do not blame me too much if I wish to insult you privately. It seems I won't be doing it in public for a while.

  "I would like to see your battle plans within the next few days, Your Majesty. I have a few ideas of my own that you might find helpful."

  "Swear our bargain on the Saireflute's name, and I will have the documents here tomorrow. When you have perused them, we will speak--in private first, if you wish, so that you can endeavor to offend me to your heart's content."

  "I don't believe that privacy will be necessary. It would improve the illusion of cooperation if we were seen working together," said Heratinn.

  "I suspect I ought to be wary."

  Later, thought Heratinn, I will give you cause to be.

  o0o

  "Don't you see, Heratinn? It's a love story. I think it's really very sweet." Elzin paused to stuff a second pillow behind the small of her back, and two pugs she had displaced growled their complaints. Politely, the deposed king offered her another cushion, but she waved it away.

  "Here, look," she continued, balancing the slim book atop her belly. "'Saire Fethzann's silver laughter filled every hall of Sheldwinn, and the holy Flute's notes sparkled joyfully throughout.' She'd won, Heratinn. After risking everything for love, she'd won! This isn't half so boring as those other histories you sent me from the archives."

  "It's very old, but I doubt that something so lyrical could be properly termed a history. In fact, this book is of little interest in proper research."

  "Why not? It's so real that I can almost feel it."

  "Subjective feelings, Great Lady, cannot be properly measured, so there is no way to--"

  "Who gives a fractured clam's shell for the things that you can measure? You could look at a girl's measurements on a scrap of paper in any seamstress's workroom, but what does it really tell you about her? Nothing at all important, I would say."

  He smiled fondly at her argument. If I had had a sister, Elzin, I would have wanted her to be like you. She gave his hand a squeeze as if she'd sensed his thoughts.

  "I think that's dinner I smell on the table, but I'll be just a moment. I may be eating for two, but it seems I'm peeing for six."

  If he survived this ordeal, it would be because of her. She was the sole reason he had been spared, and she was what now sustained him. At Elzin's insistence, Caldan had decided to allow him some small measure of freedom. He was permitted visits, under guard, into the archives and his personal library, and he could linger in certain, strategically located areas of the Saire's apartments for hours at a time. Once there, she shooed the guards to out-of-the-way antechambers and talked to him of the books he shared with her or of the elaborate meals that her cook prepared. It was not the same as liberty, but those visits without the conspicuous presence of his guards were now the closest thing he had.

  A pillow struck him on the back of the head. "Get your nose out of that book and come see this lobster. It has claws as big as Olkor's feet!"

  He chuckled, marveling at how difficult it was to remain melancholy in her presence. But there was no need now. Later, he would have many hours alone to contemplate his fate within his bare-walled quarters.

  He pulled out a chair for her, and she smiled again. "Come again tomorrow, Heratinn. For a late breakfast, at the eleventh hour."

  "I'd be delighted." More than that, he would have been devastated had she not extended another invitation. His initial relief was followed by a rush of shame.

  He had been king. Would the last of Sheldwinn's proud line live out the remainder of his days, impotent and abjectly grateful, existing from invitation to invitation?

  Was that, in the end, how his history would be written?

  o0o

  The Saire excused herself for a moment, and Heratinn looked about the room with some misgivings. To be certain, there was a small table elegantly set for breakfast, but the room was a curious choice for the Saire. Bright and airy chambers fit both Elzin's taste and nature, however this room was dark and windowless. From every shelf, sconce and table, scented candles spilled their light and fragrance. Pillows were strewn about the room with careless abandon, on the floor, on the chairs, on the wide, inviting couch. Heratinn blanched. Surely, he had not misinterpreted the Saire's invitation. Surely, she did not have in mind anything more intimate or dangerous than a meal together. Still, Elzin was… well… Elzin, and the usurper had no doubt been very busy these last weeks.

  Heratinn whipped around at the sound of the latch. But, instead of his hostess, the doorway framed--

  "Castandra!"

  The sorceress gasped; then the dull thud of the door slammed firmly on her rump sent her stumbling into his arms, where he caught her and held her fiercely. "Castandra! Is it really you? I cannot believe that we are truly together! I never expected to see you again!"

  She wept on his shoulder. "I was so sure that you must hate me now. I didn't know how to reach you. I was afraid to give Elzin a message, afraid she might guess."

  "Apparently, she already has. Castandra, this is an even greater risk than it was before. Do you truly wish to stay?"

  "Always. Always I want to be with you."

  "I wish that could be possible," he told her sorrowfully. How could Elzin know that what she had clearly done to please him would only hurt him more? He could never have Castandra. He was nothing better than a prisoner now. No, less than that. A prisoner could dream, at least, of a day he might be free. Caldan would never free him from this castle. He could never take the risk.

  "Heratinn. It might one day yet be--you might have everything back again, if only you will wait."

  He shook his head, "Castandra, you know that’s impossible."

  She stood back from him. Her cheeks still shone with tears, but her voice was calm and unwavering. "Yes, it can. As his first official act, my father changed the law of inheritance. The throne passes to the eldest child--regardless of gender."

  "To you," he said quietly. "What are you thinking, Castandra?"

  "That you would make a damned fine king, Heratinn. That after everything that my father has achieved, our… council… would grant him anything he asks for, including allowing us to marry. But, you have to live that long. Do not defy him."

  He stared at he
r. "Everything your father has achieved? Do you -- no. Let’s not argue. We have so little time together."

  Heratinn took her in his arms again. "As long as you tell me there is hope, Castandra, I will wait for you."

  o0o

  Elzin arranged and rearranged the pillows on her sofa nervously. It was all so delicious, so wildly romantic! Castandra and Heratinn, hidden here, alone at last, against all odds. She could not have been more proud. Still, her heart pounded wildly at each stray sound. What if Caldan came back here for some reason unannounced? What if he found out?

  Sitting on the edge of the brocaded cushion to rearrange a vase of flowers, she reassured herself. No one knew her plan to leave the two alone; not Caldan, who would be gone for many hours; not a single guard or servant; not even Heratinn and Castandra themselves. It was her surprise to the young couple -- a gift of friendship to Heratinn, and an offer of the same to the sorceress.

  If she said nothing, Caldan need never know.

  o0o

  Elzin wasn't bothered that they thought her frivolous. Whatever was the good of having all these guards if she couldn't use them to clear the beach for a summer stroll? Besides, she had told Caldan what she wished to do, and he'd seemed almost grateful when she explained she had invited Castandra to join her. He must be glad to see some signs of friendship, thought the Saire. One war at a time was all most men could handle.

  The warm sea breeze felt soft against her skin. She could feel it through the light, loose dress the seamstresses had made her. She looked out onto blue water. Above it, not a wisp of cloud troubled the sky, only a few white gulls.

  "Can you swim, Castandra?" asked Elzin.

  "Oh, yes. I love to swim." The highlander squinted against the glare of the sun on the sea and corrected herself. "Used to love to swim. It's so hard, here, to get the privacy, and it seems forever since we were in Tarska for the summer. Why do you ask?"

  Elzin stooped to pluck a smooth, pink spall-shell from the sand. As she spoke, she turned it over thoughtfully. "My mother never learned to swim. She always said she would, but she always put it off. She put off so many things. She spent a long time dying, but hardly any time at all living.

  "I guess I'm just the opposite. I should be the best swimmer in all of Lhant. Whenever I wanted to be with a boy back in Linden Mill, I always asked him to teach me how to swim at a shady, wide spot along the Millstone River. I must have had a hundred lessons there," she laughed. "But I learned a lot of things more interesting than swimming.

  "What I'm trying to say is: don't be like my mother. Don't let all your chances go by until the last one's gone. I mean with Heratinn. All those lessons on the grassy bank -- I wouldn't trade them for the stars." Elzin's smile softened at the sweet avalanche of memory she had dislodged. "I had so much fun, Castandra. Why don't you go ahead and have some fun with Heratinn, and damn the consequences?"

  Shocked speechless, the sorceress stared at the blonde. A hundred scathing replies leapt to her tongue, but, quick as they were, she bit back each one, unformed. She doesn't know, Castandra thought to herself, she doesn't know our laws. She intends no hurt; why does such a simple suggestion pain me so deeply?

  "Elzin. I just can't."

  "Can't? Can't doesn't mean a thing, not when you're young." The blonde flicked the wave-polished shell at an unexpected flash of sunlit scales. "Being young's about doing; it’s about trusting your instincts, like that silverside leaping in the surf. The fish doesn't waste its time underneath the waves thinking that it can't, that all its splashing will bring a net, a gull, a big, hungry blueback. It just jumps. Jump, Castandra, and leave the can'ts for when you're an old, old woman, with nothing but time to remember all the things you used to do."

  "Elzin, I'm sure that you mean well. But, you can't go through life just selfishly damning the consequences of whatever you do."

  "There's that word again. Can't. I think it was my father's favorite, too. Well, I didn't listen to him either, and just look what happened." Cheerfully, she laid a hand atop her belly. "A consequence, aha! And I'm not even one bit sorry. I can't wait until this baby's born. Of course, I didn't always feel that way. I was scared to death at first. There's still stoning on the back-bays, and then there was the Queen. But things worked out. They usually do."

  "I don't believe that, Elzin. Already I have damned the consequences more than I should have ever dared. I have been selfish. It would be better for everyone, especially Heratinn, if I never spoke to or looked at or thought of him again. But, he makes me feel…" She threw her hands up, pale ghosts against the blue water, searching. "He makes me feel."

  Elzin kicked off her shoes and walked into the warm surf.

  The wavelets dug small holes behind her feet. "Well, then, you'll have to find a way. Because if you can't feel, Castandra, why, what's the difference between you and the dead?"

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The bat finds its way through the dark.

  Neither does the night hinder any wickedness.

  --proverb of Lhant

  Such a small thing. Insignificant, really. She wasn't surprised it had been forgotten. Why, she wasn't surprised at all. With the Buktoz invasion force nearly upon them, no wonder everyone else on the isle could think of nothing but war.

  Still, a woman turned twenty but once, and as the day wore on, Elzin could not help but feel a tiny bit sorry for herself. Home on the back bay, it would have been her day to crest. Today, if things had been different, she might have joined the community of mature women who held great sway in a village where the men spent most of their time at sea. A mother, a sister, or an aunt would have fashioned her a muslin hood, white as moonlight, in acknowledgement of her accumulated wisdom. There would have been some kind of celebration to honor the goddess, but mostly to laugh at foolish husbands and drink dark wine together. She would have been an important part, that day, of Linden Mill.

  Stupid, for her to even think of it. No one around Sheldwinn bothered with such old-fashioned nonsense, and anyway, she, with no female relatives, no husband, and all too little accumulated wisdom, would have been stoned by now in Linden Mill. Here she had so much more than she had ever dreamed of then, everything that she could ever want.

  Well, almost everything. In the months since the Summer Festival and the turmoil that followed in its wake, Caldan had been so occupied with plans for the coming battle that he could spare little time to be with her.

  Worse yet, these past few weeks she had not seen him at all. The new king had gone, taking along Heratinn to assist him with the final preparations. No longer did the courtyards echo with the shouts and stamping feet of drilling soldiers. The anvils that had rung both day and night were silent. In but a single day, Castle Sheldwinn had gone from hive to hollow husk. When Elzin left her rooms she felt like a lonely shadow, drifting aimlessly through nearly empty corridors.

  But she didn't look much like a shadow, nor did she move like one. She had grown so large with child that her walk more closely resembled the waddle of a goose. She felt huge and graceless, and at times she wondered if her appearance was the reason that Caldan insisted that she stay behind.

  Elzin had acted disappointed, but she had really been relieved. She volunteered to go with Caldan from a sense of duty, but the discomforts of the road were still fresh in her mind. She missed his company, however, and every day she waited eagerly for news of his return.

  "You haven't eaten much today," said Kezwann with a smile. From the tower window, Elzin strained her eyes to see some sign on the horizon.

  "It's so hot," said the Saire distractedly. "I never eat much when it's hot."

  "Are you sure it's not another thing that troubles you?"

  "Yes, it's--. No. No, it's nothing, Kezwann. Nothing important."

  "I can get you something cool from the cellars as soon as we come back."

  Elzin turned to look at her. "Come back from where?"

  "Oh, but that would be telling, wouldn't it?"

  o0o


  "I wouldn't need to hurry if you'd only tell me where we're going." Elzin had stopped between two flights of stairs to rest. As the child had grown larger, her breath had grown short.

  "It's nothing that can't wait, Chosen," the handmaid said, patting her arm. "This last flight of stairs, a few more doors, and we could pop you straightaway into your bed for a nap. Then, later, when you're feeling better--"

  "Kezwann!" Did her handmaid wink at Jenir? "Oh, you're both awful! Give me a clue, at least!"

  "Well, you might fancy a view of the courtyard . . ."

  "What are we waiting for, then!"

  The courtyard was sunlit, cobbled and bright, but at its center the gift itself was luminous as moon-kissed snow.

  "Oh! Oh! She's beautiful!" Fat and sleek, the horse of her girlhood daydreams stamped a grey-and-pink hoof and shook its silken mane. A groom a few years younger than the Saire grinned foolishly as he clutched the lead rope, which had been woven from muslin, white as cresting waves.

  "Great Lady, in com—er--commemoration of the day of your birth, I beg your indulgence in allowing me to present you with this small gift." He shoved a small scroll into her hands.

  She unrolled it in an instant.

  You told me you liked white. Soon, we shall ride together. "It is from Caldan!" she squealed and hugged the befuddled groom. "He remembered after all!"

  The mare's satin neck felt clean and silky as it looked. Stroking it gently, Elzin wondered just what spell it was that allowed the Tarskan to see into her heart.

  o0o

  It was like magic, thought Hommil in amazement as he surveyed the endless vista of the orderly camp. Row upon row of low tents, the sounds of orders being barked, the clangor of the smithies, never silent, even at night. All this, in just a few months.

  The new king had been a fox among foxes. With Heratinn so conspicuously in evidence, working so diligently with the highlander, any trepidations of the populace had been eased. They took the royal promissory notes in return for provisions and livestock. They sent their sons and husbands to fight. "Leave one," Caldan had ordered. "Always leave one man to look after the rest." But, so eager was that one sometimes that only a show of arms could convince him to stay behind. Any corruption on the part of the king's emissaries or troops was punished immediately. Take advantage of the citizens, get caught, die. The fad of honesty swept over the isle's administrators more swiftly than once did new fashions among the court.