by Mary Corran
‘The extent,’ he said hurriedly, ‘depends on the magnitude of his gift and his will. He sees you, of course, and to a limited extent what is physically close to you. He cannot know what you say, unless he can read lips, a skill learned by few, but he can see in the dark, like a cat.’
‘So he might have seen Mallory on our way here?’
Omond nodded. ‘Very probably.’
She looked disturbed. ‘Do you think this has anything to do with our reason for being here?’ she asked abruptly. ‘Mallory told you?’
‘He did, and I regret I cannot say. But it is possible — even likely.’ Omond cleared his throat. ‘I will give you this protection, although I fear it may not be enough; the fortune that protects you from hex-harm may hinder this in its effectiveness. There are so few identical twins born, and even fewer where only one twin survives, that I have paid less heed to a study of the effects than perhaps I ought.’ He fished in his pockets again, and this time withdrew a ring, large enough for her middle finger, set with an octagon-shaped blue stone. ‘Take it. It is charmed, and may at least obscure your watcher’s vision.’
She looked at it doubtfully. ‘Is it necessary?’ Once more he could hear in her voice the antagonism to his craft.
‘Wear it, child,’ he insisted. ‘To placate my anxieties, if no more.’ He smiled. ‘And now, if you will forgive me, I have other tasks awaiting me; less urgent, but belated. Would you be so good as to wait until the globes cease to turn, then replace my model on that shelf? Thank you.’ He estimated it would take enough of her time to allow him a private word with Mallory. Stiffly, he walked to the door, feeling every one of his eighty years.
‘Thank you,’ Asher called, as an afterthought; Omond waved a hand in response. He was weary, for it was many years since he had been asked to expend so much of his energies.
He only hoped his strength would prove sufficient for the task.
*
It was more than a few minutes before Asher went in search of Mallory and found him in the library. She delayed, needing time to reflect on what Omond had said, wanting to be alone to walk through the parts of the great house that held most memories for her. Yet she found no peace in the old nurseries where she and Callith had spent the rainy days of their childhood; shrouded in dust-sheets, the rooms felt empty of life and the laughter she remembered.
As she descended the main stairs to the ground floor, she passed a woman a little older than herself, one of the maids from the apron covering the print of her dress; they exchanged meaningless smiles, and it was only afterwards Asher realized she knew the woman, although she could not recall her name. Had she, too, been recognized? she wondered. She had come back, but as a stranger, her hunger for home strangled by the need to evade Lewes.
‘Asher, come and join me.’ Mallory rose to his feet as she entered, gesturing to a deep-seated chair on the far side of the hearth, where a welcoming fire burned. ‘What’ve you been doing?’
‘Just walking about, thinking of the past.’ She joined him, sinking down gratefully into the comfort of the cushions, holding out her hands to the blaze, suddenly realizing she was cold. ‘I hope you don’t mind?’
‘My house is always yours, you should know that.’
She gave him a quick smile. ‘Everything changes. Nothing stays the same, does it?’
He glanced round the room, nodding. ‘Do you remember when you fell on top of me from that shelf?’ He pointed up to the ceiling. ‘I was thinking about that when you came in.’
‘You weren’t a very comfortable cushion, if I remember right, and it was your own fault. I wouldn’t have fallen if you hadn’t shouted at me to come down.’
He refused to rise. ‘Probably not.’
‘Have you found out anything? About the camp in Storm Valley?’ She wanted to widen the distance between them, wary of a sudden atmosphere of intimacy. There was a look in Mallory’s eye that made her nervous, as if he would like to become a friend of a more intimate nature than she would allow, although in her present loneliness she might almost have welcomed such comfort. A physical companionship might be better than the cold of her self-imposed isolation.
‘I’ve been with Came, the estate steward, most of the day.’ If he noticed her withdrawal, he gave no sign of it. ‘There’s a lot of work to do here, and only myself to do it at the moment, but he was able to give me some useful information. Apparently, most days the common prisoners are taken out of the camp and down the hill to work a stone quarry — carefully guarded, of course. But that gives us a chance to take a look at them, although Carne did say that after the recent escape of one of the women prisoners the Kamiri keep a close watch on everything that goes on in the valley.’
‘I don’t know the place well. Do you?’
He nodded. ‘I went there once, to look at the old bandits’ hideout which is now the camp; there’re one or two good vantage places on the opposite hill, although it’s a bad spot for firestorms, so there may not be much ground cover.’
‘It’s the season for them, I suppose,’ Asher agreed. ‘Perhaps we should take along a sheep or two, to give us an excuse if the Kamiri see us there.’
‘Good suggestion.’ He paused, looking down at his lap. ‘You don’t have to come, Asher.’
‘Yes, I do,’ she replied, angry at the attempt to exclude her. ‘You can’t leave me here.’
‘It’s your decision.’ Mallory shrugged. ‘Lewes came today.’
‘What?’ Her tone was sharp. ‘What did he want? Does he know I’m here?’
‘Not so far as I could tell. He came to ask about Harrows again. As you know, it’s held in fee from the Kepesake estate, and even after all due debts have been paid there’s still a surplus from the farm. He argued that he should receive that at least, and he’s petitioning the Governor of Chance over my head to have Harrows transferred to his ownership.’ He hesitated, as if he had not wanted to say as much. ‘I thought you should know.’
‘Thank you.’ Asher suppressed a shiver, glad she had not known he was in the same house. She looked down at her lap, at the shabby dark material of her divided skirts, at her thin fingers and their ragged nails, and felt herself grow scarlet at her own earlier imagining that Mallory might want to become her lover, to caress the body Lewes had so often stigmatized as ugly and unarousing. Six years of friendship with Essa were not enough to eradicate the damage Lewes had inflicted on her self-esteem; although Asher knew, intellectually, that she was neither ugly nor malformed, she could place no value on her physical appearance.
‘Asher? Did I say something wrong?’
‘No,’ she said quickly, shutting off the past. ‘No, I was just thinking.’
‘Omond told me he wasn’t able to see your watcher very far.’
She was grateful for the change of subject. ‘No, but does it really matter so much? It’s probably not important.’
‘The fact that someone attaches sufficient importance to you to have you watched worries me, at least, Asher.’ Mallory looked away. ‘Omond also mentioned he thought you might have a touch of his gift.’
‘That’s nonsense!’ Her temper flared. ‘Going to see him was a waste of time!’
‘Anything that isn’t your own idea seems to be, at least to you.’ There was an answering spark of anger in Mallory’s retort.
‘Just because you think something’s worthwhile doesn’t mean I have to agree with you,’ Asher flashed back irritably. ‘I’m quite capable of making my own decisions.’
‘I never said you weren’t!’ Mallory exhaled angrily. ‘Asher, I’m trying hard not to argue with you, but you make it very difficult sometimes.’
‘I make it difficult!’ The accusation added fire to the flame, though Asher was not sure why she was angry; but she was glad of the mood, revelling in it as a defence against her thoughts, her doubts. ‘What you mean is that you’re so used to laying down the law that even the slightest dissent from your opinion on my part seems like mutiny.’
She k
new she was wrong, but would not take back the words, pride stiffening her resistance. She wanted to lash out at someone, anyone, because she was lonely and frightened, and could admit to neither feeling, and Mallory was there. He said nothing.
An uneasy silence ensued. Asher fidgeted with the arm of her chair. Mallory sat staring broodingly into the flames of the fire in the hearth, not looking at her.
‘Is there something wrong?’ she asked eventually, half-wanting to apologize.
He sounded remote when he answered. ‘You have, of course, a right to your opinions. But you seem to allow yourself a freedom to express your views while denying others a similar opportunity.’
The accusation stung. ‘That’s not true!’
‘You hear only what you want to hear, isn’t that true?’ he countered. ‘You think I discount much of what you say because you’re a woman, but I know you discount most of what I tell you because it goes against what you want to think. You seem to have lost all sense of proportion, forgetting what’s important — ’
‘That’s the trick, isn’t it? Belittle me because there’s something more important to do? More important than my wishes, at any rate.’
‘I didn’t say that,’ Mallory said evenly.
‘You don’t have to.’ She struck back in bitterness, because like Lewes he was a man, and because at that moment she hated him for being an enemy, because the Fates had made him so. ‘There’s no need, is there? I should know it without being told.’
‘There is such a thing as priority,’ Mallory said coolly. ‘And ours is to find Vallis. You see everything in terms of black or white. Have you no sense at all?’
The question gave her pause. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked warily.
‘What are you trying to prove to yourself? Why is it always “Asher knows best”? There’s nothing wrong with asking for help.’
‘No? And have you say I shouldn’t have come?’ she challenged, hurt.
‘That’s your justification? Your pride?’ He flung up his hands. ‘And what about other people’s feelings, not just your own? Don’t you see, the risks you’ve been taking damage your friends as well as yourself. Try to imagine how I felt when I saw you fall into the river and thought you were going to drown? Don’t I have the right to share your thoughts, since we’re together in our search for Vallis, since the Oracle brought us together? Or don’t you trust me or any of your friends, and think yourself superior to us all?’
‘Of course not!’ But her face flamed, remembering how often Essa had said much the same thing.
‘Then why do you never listen, but simply rush in where any sane man or woman would hesitate, and trust to luck to carry you through? A luck you say you don’t believe in? What was the lunacy you uttered — that you thought the Oracle wouldn’t let any harm come to you? You’re lucky to be alive!’ His voice was filled with real feeling. ‘What happens when that luck deserts you, Asher?’
She felt she was being backed into a corner and struck back. ‘If I were a man, would you be saying this?’
‘Yes.’
The plain answer gave her pause, for it was obvious he meant it. Asher felt suddenly confused. Had she been trying to prove to him she was capable of standing alone, without his help? To show she was his equal, or superior, in every way? Where was the need? Mallory was a friend, not her lover or a member of her family. And where was her much-vaunted independence, if she must prove it at every turn? Had Mylla been right and she was trying to shut him out, with all the rest, to make him leave her alone?
‘Asher.’ His voice came less harshly. ‘If our positions were reversed, would you stand by and let me rush towards self-destruction without trying to stop me?’
‘I’m sorry.’ But the words came out stiffly, lacking in conviction. Mallory had proven himself a friend, yes, but on his terms not her own. The anger she continued to repress pulsed in her mind; if it were not for Lewes, for Stern, and for other men like them, who had shattered her life and peace, she would be free. To Mylla, to Essa, she was a person they liked and trusted to make her own decisions. She broke off the train of thought, remembering some of what Mylla had said that night in the old quarter, which bore an unpleasantly close resemblance to Mallory’s accusations.
‘There’s one more thing.’
She looked at him suspiciously. ‘What?’
‘I want your word you won’t leave these grounds alone. Please, Asher. I know you must want to see Harrows again; in your place, so would I. But it isn’t safe.’
The appeal was so unexpected that the promise hovered on her lips. He had made no attempt to command her compliance, only to ask for her pledge, but she could not bring herself to speak words which would bind her quite as strongly as any physical restraint.
‘I can’t.’ She sensed his instant withdrawal. ‘Not now.’ In the moment she said it, she had a sudden vision of the shifting patterns she had seen in Omond’s copper bowl, of the echoes in her own mind, and knew, before she had time to analyse why, that they represented a warning to herself, that the decision she took now was important. No lies, no false promises; not to Mallory.
‘Why not?’
He sounded cold and remote, leaving no room for compromise. His way or not at all, Asher thought bitterly and without justice, sensing the rift between them grow from crack to chasm; yet he was still too much a friend to let him go without some attempt at explanation, and she tried.
‘Because I won’t make a promise I might not be able to keep.’ He remained silent. ‘Mallory, at the moment, I could give you my word. Yes, of course I want to go to Harrows, but I can wait a little longer, after so many years — ’
‘— but you want the choice to be yours, and yours alone, as in everything else,’ he concluded for her. ‘I see what the Oracle meant now. “Look with eyes that choose to see; look — or lose.” You’ve already made your choice, Asher.’
‘Mallory ... ’ She reached out to him in a rare gesture but he drew back, turning away to stare once more into the fire. His withdrawal was so complete she was at a loss to know what to do, experiencing a deep unhappiness that she might well have gone too far to draw back.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Asher. We should visit the camp as soon as possible, while the weather holds.’ His voice held a remoteness that suggested he had distanced her in mind, as in looking away he refused to acknowledge her physical presence.
She waited, hoping for a sign he would relent, but there was none. Her head began to ache, so badly she wondered if she were going to be ill, but she found it impossible to find anything to say that would bring him back, beyond the past hour. At last, she shrugged.
‘Until tomorrow then,’ she said softly. He did not acknowledge her words; she might as well have been alone in the room. Without anger to sustain her, there was only a deep and unbearable sadness, and a feeling of having lost something precious which could never be recovered.
She got to her feet and walked towards the door, feeling an intruder in the quiet room. As she let herself out, she was careful not to look back.
*
She lay on the bed, her mind whirling with unacceptable thoughts. It was only early-evening, but she had no appetite and could not face the prospect of having to sit at dinner, trying to make conversation with Omond and being ignored by Mallory. Hunger and thirst were better than rejection. Lewes had taught her all about rejection.
At last she fell asleep, dozing in uneasy fits and starts until she woke in the early hours of the morning and knew, with absolute certainty, that there was no point in trying to stay in bed. Wide awake, she got up and padded across to the window and looked out; the skies were a clear, velvet black, dotted with stars, Abate barely visible and Aspire in her last waning quarter.
Her thoughts tormented her. It was impossible to forget what Mallory had said, nor her own contribution to what had been a peculiarly bitter quarrel. Bitter, because it concerned a principle on which they could not agree, because he would not accept that she
had the right to risk her life if she so chose. But bitter also because she had abused his friendship, punishing him for what another man had done to her. She wished, desperately, that she had admitted how much she knew she had been in the wrong. On their journey, it had been as much Mallory as the Oracle she had been testing, as if he had to prove his goodwill to her at every step.
It was acting a lie, and worse, because I was and am afraid. Of coming back here, of showing Mallory what a coward I was and still am. I thought the old Asher was dead, but she’s here — she’s me. I didn’t care what the risks I took cost him or Mylla, and it was only luck or the Oracle that saved me, not my skill or good judgment.
With a constriction in her heart, she wondered if she had destroyed forever a friendship she had barely begun to value at its real worth, understanding only now, in the darkest hours, how much it meant to her. She did not love Mallory — or not in the physical sense, or as a lover should — but he was a person with whom she felt at ease, who would accept her as she was, not as she tried to present herself. Her sense of independence railed against his dictatorial habits of manner, but she trusted him and knew he would never let her down. With him, she was no longer lonely, but at home. And she — no matter how hard she tried to justify herself — had shown herself arrogant and thoughtless, caring not a jot for his feelings as long as he did not tread on her own.
I would never have treated Mylla like that. Because he’s a man, I acted as if he had no feelings, or no right to have feelings. As if he were first a man and only second a friend.
A deep depression settled on her, partly because of the lateness of the hour, but largely from an awareness that the misunderstanding between them was of her own making. Mallory had shown himself willing to meet her halfway, and she had flung the offer aside as if only he, not she, must make the effort, as though he must atone for all the wrongs all women had suffered at the hands of men.