by Mary Corran
‘Why?’ Mallory asked eventually. They were riding in pairs, for the track was broader along the flat farmlands; Kerrick, some way ahead, was busy admonishing Horton and out of earshot.
Asher did not look at him. ‘Why? Because I wanted to know, I suppose.’
He was puzzled. ‘Know what?’
‘About the Oracle.’
He was none the wiser. ‘I don’t understand.’
She shrugged her shoulders impatiently. ‘If it was true; that it can see the future, and it’s all there.’
Suddenly, he grasped her meaning. The outrageousness of her conduct appalled him so much he wanted to shake her. ‘Asher,’ he began, ‘are you trying to tell me you risked your life just to get proof of this peculiar belief?’
She looked at him with defiance. ‘Yes.’
‘Then you’re out of your mind! Listen to me, just this once?’ Her expression, however, was not receptive. Sighing, he continued: ‘Just because the Oracle prophesied you might be involved in the rescue of Vallis doesn’t mean your life is charmed.’
‘Doesn’t it?’
He saw from the stubborn set of her mouth that she was not convinced. ‘I always thought you had some intelligence,’ he said angrily. ‘Can’t you see? The prophecy only said might. If you succeed in killing yourself — and you will, if you go on behaving like a fool — then perhaps you put Vallis, everything, in jeopardy. Who knows? But nothing — nothing — is going to save you from your own stupidity!’
She turned on him, eyes blazing. ‘Is that so, Mallory? How do you know?’ But her anger drained away almost at once, and she slumped despairingly in the saddle. ‘If everything we do is predestined, then it doesn’t matter what we do. If I’d been meant to drown, I would have drowned. I should have drowned. Nothing I decide makes any difference at all.’
He heard defeat in her voice, and was troubled. ‘Ash,’ he said, more gently, ‘it isn’t like that. Of course it makes a difference. Think rationally. If you’d stayed behind the night you heard Lewes and the Kamir talking, you might be dead. But you didn’t. You’re alive, and you’re here.’
‘Perhaps.’ It was obvious she did not believe him, and he could see she was in no mood for further discussion. Reluctantly, he let her be, increasingly uneasy about her. Remembering the girl he had known, he could not reconcile her with the Asher who rode beside him. Or was it only that he had never really known her at all? Had he only understood her within the bounds of his own expectations, so that he had seen her as young, pretty and vivacious — attractive — and approved of her as a friend for his sister and as a follower for himself, without really thinking about the sort of person she was? Her marriage to Lewes, despite any reservations about the character of her future husband, had seemed, at the time, a sensible union; yet, with the benefit of hindsight, how would he have felt if he had been given in marriage to someone who had wanted only his lands, and had no obligations to treat him with even common courtesy. From whom he could not free himself.
What of Melanna? Why did she agree to marry me? He could never think of his wife without remembering her betrayal. It was that, not grief at her death, which had blotted out the memories of the years they had shared; but it was true she had been alone much of the time, for he had been away at sea, often for months on end, and his own family were scattered by then and hers far distant in the port of Refuge. During their days together, if he was honest, she had been a pleasant companion, always solicitous to his wants and needs. He had expected it; that was the way in marriage. But — and he wondered why he had never thought of it before — he had never considered what she might want from their union, from life. She had said she wished he were not so often absent, but he had thought her wishes mere form; he had to leave her. It was his duty to go to sea, hers to stay behind and administer the clan estates — his estates — entrusted to her.
How could it work any other way? Men were strong, women weak and submissive. But the thought lacked conviction, not only because in Asher’s presence it was so plainly untrue, but also sounding horribly as if he were viewing Melanna the way the Kamiri invaders viewed his own people, as weak and subordinate by virtue of their physique and lower aggression. The Darrianites had always been traders, priding themselves on their skill and daring rather than on martial dominance, sailing further and faster than ships of other nations. But what was the good of that, when faced with the overwhelming military might of Amrist and his armies, to whom force was the only reality?
Is that how we control our women? With force? He thought of the girl on the smallholding, how Kerrick would have taken her, whether she wanted to bed him or not, and the memory shamed him. He had not considered her feelings important, nor the possible consequences to her from a night spent enduring Kerrick’s lust. She was an ephemeral moment in Mallory’s life, a girl he would never meet again, and he had worries enough of his own; but Asher and the others had seen what might happen, and taken steps to prevent it. True, it was easier for them; they were women, and the consequences were more at the forefront of their minds. But he should have considered them. He had always thought himself a fair captain and an honourable man. There was no honour in the rape of a young girl, innocent or not.
*
Asher, lost in her own broodings, paid scant attention to Mallory. Her thoughts oppressed her; she, who had always prided herself on being in control of her life, was nothing. Her achievements — or what she thought of as her achievements — were nothing. From the moment she was born, her life had been mapped out. She could find no moment of remembered joy as she considered the full implications of the Oracle’s powers. What was the sense in fighting injustice, if matters would either right themselves or not, as the Fates dictated? Her twin brother, conceived at the same time as herself, had been destined to die at birth. What was the meaning in that? Had he only been created to give her, Asher, his share of good fortune, to free her from the casual intrusions of chance so that she might help men like Stern to steal? Had he not been designed to exist for any other purpose? The arrogance of the idea horrified her.
She was glad when the day ended and she could retreat to the room she shared with Mylura; the farmhouse was large and prosperous, and there was space for them all. The following day they would reach Eagle Lake and their paths would diverge, hers in the direction of the internment camp and, perhaps, Vallis; in her present mood she no longer cared. Only the prospect of parting from Kerrick temporarily lifted her spirits.
*
Low-lying mist obscured the plains the next morning, allowing the party only sufficient visibility to keep to the track, but by afternoon it began to lift, and Asher could see the glint of sunlight on water not far ahead.
Eagle Lake, at last.
She drew the scarf that covered her hair lower, so that it hid her face. The lake was a landmark she knew well; once past it, she would be on home ground. The city of Chance lay a day’s trek to the south-east; Kerrick’s clan holding lay due west. Her own path was south, and as she looked out at the familiar landscape her depression lightened.
The moment of parting came earlier than expected, prompted by Kerrick’s insistence on halting at a prosperous-looking inn further along the road, the first they had come to that day. He dismounted and signalled Horton and the others to do likewise; only Mallory and the three women did not follow his example.
‘Join me,’ he suggested to Mallory with a broad wink, his conviviality somewhat restored by the prospect of drink and willing female companionship. ‘The ale’s good here, and the company.’
‘Thank you, but I think not.’ Mallory was barely able to suppress his impatience. ‘This journey has already taken longer than I planned.’
‘And you, Mistress Asher?’ He managed to make the invitation sound unpleasantly suggestive. ‘And your friends, of course,’ Kerrick added hastily, seeing her look.
‘You’re very kind, but we too must be on our way on the Chief Councillor’s business.’ Asher bowed stiffly from the saddl
e. ‘Please accept our thanks for your escort, and my apologies for the delay I caused you.’
The smile on Kerrick’s face faded; too late, Asher realized the reference to Avorian had been unfortunate. ‘Of course,’ he sneered. ‘The Councillor here will give you escort at least part of your way. I’m sure he’s more than capable of — escorting — you all.’
Asher wondered how it was possible to imbue a simple word with such vulgarity; tightlipped, she directed herself to Val and Tarm and thanked them for their protection. Finally, she turned back to Kerrick.
‘I’m sure you’ll find plenty of women here who’ll be glad of your own — escort, for a price,’ she advised calmly.
He took a step towards her.’ You stupid sow!’
‘Ah,’ Mylura interjected brightly. ‘Another one who dislikes the females of the animal kingdom. I told you there were plenty, Asher.’
Kerrick’s hand went to his sword, then dropped, but the three women had already turned their horses back down the road to join Pars, Ish and Mallory, leaving Kerrick and his party staring after them.
‘I wonder how our Chief Councillor gets on with him?’ Mylura commented to Asher, once out of earshot.
‘He probably never sees him in this mood.’
‘No.’ Mylura expelled a long breath. ‘Thank the Fates we’re free of him now! Even the air smells fresher.’
The six rode on, Ish leading, Mallory at the rear. It was only a short distance to their own separation.
When they reached the parting of the ways, the three women drew apart.
‘I wish I could have come with you,’ Asher said, sighing. ‘And I’m sorry, Margit, to wish all the work on you.’
‘You’d better take these now, before we forget.’ Mylla drew a packet of papers from inside her jacket and handed them to Asher. ‘Remember, if the guard stops you, you’re visiting a sick relative in your village.’
‘Thanks.’ Asher scrutinized the new identity papers, but could find no fault with them. ‘Am I really called Imagene?’
Mylla grinned. ‘You left the choice to me.’
‘This is Avorian’s authorization.’ In turn, Asher handed Mylla her own papers. ‘And this is from the city. If you’re in any doubt what to do, ask Margit; she knows all the tricks. And thanks for what you’re doing, I’m very grateful. Take care of yourselves.’
Mylura grinned happily. ‘Not at all, and don’t worry. I’ll do everything Margit tells me!’
‘Don’t forget,’ Margit chimed in. ‘We meet at the village of Bounden’s Fen in seven days.’
‘I shan’t forget.’ Asher suddenly wanted to go with them, not go home at all. It would feel strange to be in the company of Ish, Pars and Mallory, without another woman present.
‘Good Fortune, Ash. I hope with all my heart this girl is the one we’re looking for.’ Margit gave her a quick smile.
‘I also.’
‘Go carefully. And don’t worry about me in the hands of this maniac here!’ Margit waved at Mylura’s tall figure; Asher grinned.
‘Good luck.’
Mallory was waiting at the place where the second trail forked west, taking Margit and Mylura to the start of their tour of inspection. The cottages of the first village were already visible only a short distance along the track.
‘The Chief Councillor has arranged an escort for you in each village, and accommodation and so on,’ Asher reminded both women. ‘It’s only a matter of going through the ledgers and looking for the old tricks — you know them all, Margit.’ They embraced briefly. ‘Thank you both again.’
‘In seven days,’ Mylura repeated.
‘Good Fortune!’
Asher waved a final farewell, then turned her horse south.
‘Regretting it already?’ Mallory asked, as he rode at her side. ‘You could change your mind and go with them.’
‘Perhaps a little.’ Asher sighed. ‘I’m not sure how I feel, but no.’
‘Try not to worry too much.’ Considerately, he left her alone, dropping back to ride with Pars. She was glad to follow Ish’s rigid back in silent company with her own thoughts, listening to the steady plodding of hooves along the muddy track. To be going home was so momentous an event, reopening the way to the past and to a host of feelings she had believed long forgotten, that Asher wondered how her decision to come had been taken with so much ease.
They made camp that night south of the lake, and Asher woke to the sight of the eagles that had given it its name. She watched them for a time, enjoying their easy, soaring flight, the way they hovered and swooped, and wished it were warm enough to swim. Despite her experience at the river, she had no real fear of water, and the lake, though very cold so early in the spring, was still and clear. The sun had risen to cloudless skies for the first time in days, and Asher’s spirits rose with it.
She rode the whole day with the hood of her riding cloak pulled well forward, covering her face and hair, but still felt conspicuous as well as constrained as they passed through country where every hedgerow brought with it a rush of memories from the past. The afternoon sun was bright and the day unseasonably warm. Spring had arrived with a vengeance after the rains; field-flowers which, only the day before, had slumped low amid the mud, now blossomed forth into rich seas of red and gold. Fruit trees burgeoned into sprays of strong-scented blossom, and birds sang out lustily. Even the few labouring men and women they encountered smiled as they rode by, calling out cheerful greetings. Some were known to Mallory as well as to herself; they were now very close to her village. Asher wanted to fling back her cloak and drink in the familiar sights, to surprise old friends and neighbours, but the knowledge that if she did so Lewes would be among the first to know she was back deterred her.
She was hungry for home, but strangled by her enforced anonymity. Her feelings of frustration and discomfort intensified, and it was only belatedly Asher knew them for what they were; this was the first time since leaving Venture she had been visited by the sensation of being watched. She shivered and sank lower in the saddle.
‘Is anything wrong?’ Pars was looking at her, his soft, round eyes filled with an habitual anxiety.
‘No, not really.’ His reaction made Asher regret even so mild an admission. ‘Just an attack of nerves.’
He hesitated, gathering his courage. ‘Are you sure, mistress?’ he ventured at last. ‘You l-look as if you were being pursued by all the Fates at once.’
Asher bit her lip, wishing his guess had not been so accurate; despite his friendly presence, the eerie feeling did not diminish.
‘What’s the matter?’ Mallory had moved up to join them; he looked questioningly at Pars.
‘Something disturbs the lady, sir,’ the clerk answered nervously.
Mallory gestured him back, taking his place at Asher’s side. ‘Has someone recognized you?’ he asked urgently.
‘No.’
‘Then what?’
The concern in his voice weakened her resolve to keep silence. Asher realized she wanted to tell him, even if he only dismissed her fears as nonsensical. ‘It’s just a feeling.’ She struggled to find the right words to express her meaning. ‘As if someone was watching me, someone I can’t see; but they can see me.’
‘Is this the first time you’ve felt like this?’
The sensation was now very strong. ‘No — a few times in Venture. It’s nothing, Mallory, just my imagination.’
‘Tell me, have you lost anything lately? Some item you always wear or use? A comb or some such thing?’
She frowned. ‘No, I don’t think so ... No, wait. I lost a brooch about twelve days ago — like this one.’ She pointed to the seven-sided star she used to pin her cloak.
‘Where?’
‘In the hostel, I think.’ She thought back. ‘It was the night ... ’ She stopped herself; she had never mentioned to Mallory the attempted invasion of the hostel by Sim and his friends.
‘What night?’
She tilted her head sideways until she cou
ld see his face. ‘About a week before we left Venture,’ she offered.
He shook his head. ‘Not good enough. Try again,’ he suggested. ‘What is it?’
Unwillingly, she related the events of the evening, seeing no help for it. Mallory frowned, more in thought than anger.
‘How often do these men break into your building?’
‘Once a year, more or less,’ she admitted unwillingly.
‘Do you report the incursions to the city guard, or take legal action against these people?’ Asher shook her head. ‘And why not, since you know who they are?’
‘What would they do?’ Incautiously, she flung her head back, and had to lift a hand to pull her hood down again. ‘Fine them a few coppers? They might not even bother to do that!’
‘I see.’ But instead of pressing the topic, as she had expected, he reverted to their earlier conversation. She was aware of disappointment, expecting him to display a greater concern, then shook her head at her own inconsistency: she wanted no interference from him in her private affairs. ‘Would any of these men have a reason for wanting to spy on you?’
‘None.’ She saw at last what he was getting at. ‘You think someone is overlooking me? But why? And how?’
‘I don’t know.’ He frowned. ‘But your brooch would be a good talisman.’
She wondered if Stern could have taken her brooch; he seemed a more likely candidate than Sim or his friends, and had a real motive for wanting to know where she went. But if she mentioned him she would have to tell Mallory the rest, and her courage shrank from that confession.
Mallory broke into her thoughts. ‘Omond is still at Kepesake. We’ll consult him when we get there.’
‘He’s alive, then?’ Asher asked unthinkingly; Omond, the clan’s diviner, had been an old man when she left.
‘And well. Asher, I’m not trying to order you what to do, but you must tell him about this. What if it has something to do with our mission? It comes so pat.’