by Ru Emerson
A sudden sense of presence brought her around sharply, and the cat nearly fell. “Ah, gods, what's that?”
'Don't fear, Ysian!’ Nisana's thought overrode hers, and the cat leaped back to the ground. ‘It is one of the Folk. Friend, what chances?’ she added to their sudden companion—or what could be seen of it.
'Ye are needed.’
'Ylia?’ But the cat already knew.
'She is safe. They wait for you, in the meadow you have trod before. Tell no one! Come soon.’ It was gone. Ysian cried out faintly, and Nisana nudged her leg.
'You cannot go out into the woods like that. It will be dark soon and you would freeze. You need a shirt and breeches, a furred cloak. And quickly!’ Ysian bridged back to her chamber, had her summer cloak thrown aside and low shoes kicked off almost before the Power faded. Nisana jumped up onto the narrow bed, watched as Ysian dragged her breeches from the chest at its foot and changed rapidly. She picked up her bow, set it down, tentatively picked it up again. “Ah, damn!” She pulled the arrow case from its shelf, strung the bow and hung it across her shoulder. Her warmest cloak went over all. She dragged her hair back and knotted it with a leather cord, wrapped the loose stuff around her hand and bundled it into her hood. “Ready?” Nisana touched her hand with a small paw for answer. Ysian glanced out into the half-lit hallway. “Galdan—we must tell him, poor man. Ylia—”
'No,’ Nisana said shortly. ‘Why would that Dreyz say to tell no one?’ Ysian paled. Nisana butted her arm with a hard head. ‘Go, now! Do not think, do it!’
Ysian started as Nisana's mind-speech reverberated through her, closed her eyes. ‘You bridge. I do not know the way.’ She dared not think what might await them.
Galdan sat up and yawned. He robbed his eyes. He hadn't been sleeping this past hour, just trying to. Since Ysian was no longer drugging his food and water, it was all he could manage. But he feared to be in a drugged sleep when Ylia came back to him.
When.
He let a tendril of mind-touch loose as he ran a damp cloth over the back of his neck. Nisana and Ysian were back from visiting the Chosen. Perhaps he should go find the cat and try to persuade her to search with him. Waiting was killing him by slow inches.
But Bendesevorian had been gone less than a full day. It didn't seem possible. He wiped his face on his sleeve, realized the water jug was now empty. The wash water was slimy with soap, his mouth dry. So get some, lazy beast! Who got water for ye when ye sold pelts for your salt and flour?
He stepped into the hall and turned toward the stairs, but a flare of Power brought him back around. Nisana bridging—away. Nisana and Ysian. He frowned. It was nearly dinner hour, where were they going, and where in such a hurry? For there was urgency in the air, down in Ysian's room. Urgency fear—secrecy...
He walked up the hall and stood irresolute outside Ysian's door, jug forgotten in his hand. Bits of conversation, half-heard, half-sensed while he was waking and washing, filtered back to him, and for once he was grateful it was harder for him to shield against AEldra mind-speech than it was for an AEldra.
The jug slipped from his fingers; he caught it just before it hit the floor. Bendesevorian had found her, a Dreyz had come for Nisana and Ysian—and no one wanted him to know. Fear rooted his feet to the tiles for what seemed forever.
Ysian's door was ajar. He moved to her bed, testing the air with his nose, letting his inner sense loose. His fingers prickled with the backwash from Nisana's bridging. They were gone—somewhere. He could have wept, could have slammed his fist through the door, or cried out until the stones of the outer wall cracked.
He stood still, letting his emotion wash through him, letting it go. Rage could not help Ylia, and it blocked thought. Inner silence replaced anger, grief and fear. And the thought he needed came. There was another way. Bridging left something behind: something as ethereal as smoke or a thin strand of breath and time, woven together. Something no AEldra even sensed, but a thing he might be able to follow.
He had to; it was all he had. “Mothers, aid me,” he whispered, and closed his eyes.
Nisana insisted upon four small bridgings. ‘Bendesevorian needs us, Ysian. We may not have time once there to wait to regain strength after bridging.’ Unpalatable advice. Ysian was trembling with her desire to be there. She said nothing, let Nisana retain control and fed her energy.
There was no wind in the meadow and the moon was not yet up. A faint light illuminated the grass and the Folk who stood in hushed groups.
Bendesevorian sat in the very midst of the close-cropped clearing. Ylia lay beside him, hand in his, a mound of soft grass pillowing her head, his cloak wrapped around her. He looked up, alerted by the bridging, but Ylia was not aware of them until he leaned down to speak against her ear. He squeezed her hand reassuringly, got to his feet and came across the grass. Nisana passed him at a bound; all she saw was Ylia. Ysian would have followed, but Bendesevorian held out a hand to bar her. “I am glad they found you.”
Ysian nodded but her attention was on the dark bundle on the grass: Nisana was lost in folds of cloak, Ylia's arms around her. “How bad is it?”
“Not as bad as it might be. Not—good.” And he told her.
“I see why you did not want Galdan here,” she said.
“No. That was her decision. She did not want him to see her so, and the other thing—”
Ysian gazed at her niece. “Vess. That's not good. If she thinks Galdan cannot accept—” She shook her head. “She is not thinking. But she cannot hide that from Galdan.”
“No. She hurts. No one thinks well in such pain.”
“Then—that is for me to repair.” Ysian walked across the grass, but her pace was slow. Coward, Ysian! she thought furiously. She was afraid, though. Terribly afraid.
Nisana slowed as her feet touched the Nasath's cloak. ‘Ylia?’ No response. She put both front paws on Ylia's arm; Ylia cried out and her whole body jerked convulsively; Nisana scrambled for balance. ‘Ylia?’
“Nisana? Where are you?”
'Here.’ Nisana stepped back onto Ylia's forearm again, stepped onto her stomach and dropped down on her chest to bury her face against Ylia's throat. ‘Ylia?’ Her mind-speech was nearly a shout, but there was no response; Ylia could not sense her and Nisana fought panic. Do not. Fear is no help at all. She spoke, with me first, when she was a babe. My words were the first she heard, after Scythia's.
“I can't hear you, cat. I can't!” She caught her breath in a sob, wrapped arms and cloak both around the cat. “But I thought you were dead! Oh, gods, Nisana!” Ylia's arms tightened, forcing a squeak out of the cat, and she was laughing and crying both, her tears wetting dark fur. For once Nisana made no objection, merely caught fully extended claws in cloak and loosened hair, and pushed her small round head hard under Ylia's chin.
Ysian gazed down at them. Ylia's face was swollen, black and angry red; dried blood covered her cheekbone, her chin, the left side of her throat. Her eyes were blank and she had no inner sense to warn her of Ysian's presence. Temporary, Bendesevorian had said. A Thullen bracelet and such close contact with Lyiadd's Power, for so long, had buried her own Power deep. Pain and Vess’ drug had driven it even deeper.
The injuries themselves would heal; Ysian was certain Ylia's sight would return. But the rest—Vess called it seduction, no doubt. How Ylia ever hoped to keep Galdan unaware of that! Once she had a chance to think, and half a mind to think with, she'd surely see reason. And Ysian could understand Ylia's need. If it had been her, if Golsat were to see her in such a state: no. Let Galdan learn later what he must, at least he would not see; he would never have this to remember.
A wave of non-AEldra Power struck her and for half a shaken indrawn breath, she nearly panicked, thinking Lyiadd had found them. Realization that the Power was not theirs smote her almost at once, and she scrambled to her feet. Galdan. Gods, gods, gods. He'd found them.
Galdan stood at the edge of the clearing, half in shadow, clinging to a young maple as t
hough he would strangle it. He was not aware of Ysian, the Nasath, the Dreyz—anything but Ylia. Terror for her faded; she lived. An unholy rage replaced it, and he would have fallen but for his grip on the sapling.
Ysian took his arm; he threw her hand off savagely. She tried to catch hold of him again but he struck her arm aside and turned on her. She winced as he grabbed her shoulder. “You left without telling me! You had no right!”
“I had no choice, it was what she wanted! And keep your voice low,” Ysian hissed. “Or better yet, use mind-speech. She cannot hear that."
“She cannot—ah, gods!” He let go of her and buried his face in his hands.
'I am sorry.’ Ysian's mind-speech was so soft even Nisana could barely have sensed it, had she been paying heed. ‘It was Ylia's choice. She did not want you to hurt as you are hurting right now, seeing her and knowing.’
'No. No. How could she—how could she hope to hide all that from me?’
'You are thinking no more clearly than she is, Galdan. She is in pain, she cannot see, and the Power in her is dead, for the moment. Look at her. She does not sense you at all. Do what she wants, Galdan. Please. Return to the Tower.’ Galdan shook his head, hard. ‘Then listen to me. Listen! You are a man, and however much you understand each other, you will not feel this the way she does. Do not let her feel your anger or your grief, she will think it is because of the thing Vess has done. Even knowing you would not blame her for that, she would feel blame gut-deep. She has enough to contend with, without that.’ Silence, save for Galdan's harsh breathing. ‘She wants to spare you. Do you understand?’
Galdan drew a deep breath, let it out slowly and took another. His gaze was more rational, his thought less chaotic. ‘No. You are right, I cannot understand. Perhaps one day, she can explain it so that I will. She is not thinking, but you are not thinking, either. She needs me. I cannot leave her.’ He stepped past Ysian, walked into the meadow and knelt to gather Ylia into his arms.
“Galdan?” she whispered. “Galdan, no!” She momentarily fought him, then went limp against his chest, weeping. Over their bent heads, Ysian looked at Bendesevorian and Nisana and shrugged. “You weren't supposed—supposed to see—damn you, Galdan! I didn't want you to see me like this!”
“Shhh, beloved. They tried, I just came. I found a way, I had to. I couldn't not come. You need me.”
“I—but you weren't—black hells, Galdan, I didn't want you to—didn't want—” She pressed her forehead against his shoulder and wrapped her hands in his shirt. He stroked her hair, and murmured against her ear. Slowly, so slowly, her grip relaxed.
Galdan looked up finally. “Is there any reason to remain here? Since I have seen her after all? We can heal her as easily in our rooms.”
Ysian shook her head. “No. It would be best, don't you think, that no one know anything? Except that they took Ylia and that Bendesevorian rescued her.”
“Please,” Ylia whispered. “I don't want people—staring at me. Thinking—thinking things. What they'll think, if I'm—if I go back like this, if they know Vess had me and I come back to the valley like this—” And as Galdan stirred, she added: “You don't understand! Everyone knows—Vess. I'll have to look at people, know they're thinking that. I—I can't.”
“Shhh.” Ysian laid a hand on her lips and spoke briskly. The air was charged with emotion; someone needed to bring things back to a sensible and swift path and get them home. “Let me mend your hurts. We won't take you home like this, then, you don't need anyone's pity, do you? No one will see you until you're clean and healed and in your clothes again. No one will think Vess raped you,” she added flatly, voicing the word Ylia had been unable to speak. She and Galdan both shuddered. “Another woman, but never you, Ylia. We're wasting time here; it's chill and you worry the Dreyz. Give me your hands, niece.”
As she had hoped, that simplified matters. Ylia held out her hands and let Ysian and Galdan help her sit, Galdan for support behind her and Nisana in her lap. Ylia flinched away as she sensed Ysian's fingers near her throbbing temple but forced herself to hold still. She could not sense the healing, only the lack of pain Bendesevorian had not been able to entirely block. Ysian's fingers were cool against her face and eyelids.
Ylia sagged into Galdan as Ysian finished, gripped his arms as he wrapped them around her. He leaned forward to kiss her hair. “Can you hear me?” he whispered, adding in mind-speech: ‘Ylia? Can you?’ She shook her head. Ysian's thought was faint, Nisana's stronger but still hard to understand. Bendesevorian—she could follow his thought only if he touched her. But Galdan—with his arms around her she could sense his love, his fear and the murderous fury he tried to hide from her. No words.
Ysian stood. “Never mind. The Power is there, undamaged. It will return. Niece, I daresay you would like your own bed now.” Ylia nodded. She opened her eyes, cautiously. They were there, all of them—so blurred, it made her dizzy. But there. She let her eyes close again. Dizzy. That's the need for sleep after a healing.
But she opened her once more as Eya's fingers touched her face. The Dreyz stood by her side, others behind her. “We will speak, soon. Things have begun, war is moving against us all, and we must bind our kinds together before many more days pass. Sleep, rest. Gather the strength that is in you.”
“I will,” Ylia whispered. She laid her hand over Eya's. “Bendesevorian said you aided him. Thank you.”
“We did the duty of an ally,” Eya said. “But we are friends, you and I.” There was no answer Ylia could find to that, but the dryad's touch warmed her.
“Friends,” she whispered. The faintest awareness told her the Folk were gone, the inner sense was not completely dead after all. Galdan wrapped her in Bendesevorian's cloak and picked her up.
“Forgive me?” he whispered against her ear.
“Never,” she replied. “But I'm—glad you're here.”
“That's a terrible answer, it makes no sense at all. Is that the best you can do?” She managed a faint smile; he was trying so hard for both of them. If she weren't so tired—she tightened her grip on his neck as they bridged.
He had her so few days—no time at all. So little time to do such damage. She was afraid, who had never let fear direct her before. Guilt colored all her waking thought: that she had not avoided Vess’ trap, that she had not somehow kept him from touching her. That her physical strength had not sufficed against Vess'. Foolish? Of course. And she knew it to be foolish and that made no difference.
She told no one, but her Swordmaster knew; I saw that. And Marhan saw beyond the simple explanation of rape and assault that other men would have accepted. It still surprised me, that he had such sensitivity, though no one ever saw it but Ylia, and she rarely. But he had once been powerless in the face of Lyiadd's greater strength; I knew he would help her as no one else could.
23
At dawn, Galdan called up a joint meeting of the Main and War councils for second hour. By sunrise, word was already getting out that Ylia was home, safe and safely asleep in her own bed. No one knew yet where she had been. There was an uncomfortable silence around the crowded table as Galdan told them what more he dared. More than he wanted to tell.
“Vess holds Koderra.” He had to wait a long time for the outraged cries to die down. “He has his own army of Sea-Raiders, mercenaries and Lyiadd's men. The Tehlatt have moved back up-river, leaving the south to Vess. Bendesevorian went there and saw that; he also has other news which he will tell you shortly. Little of it is good, not surprisingly.”
“But my news is largely good.” He forced himself to continue without hesitation, though he would have given anything to stop with that. “Ylia is home again. She sleeps now, but she is unharmed and will be awake by evening. Vess took her prisoner and held her in Koderra, in hopes he could use her against us. As part of his plan, he gave her Ragnolan herb. We could do nothing about the residue of that drag, unfortunately. It may impede her vision or her thought, off and on. It was a strong dose and wears off slowly
.”
He wondered as he looked from face to face, seeing only concern and relief, fearing the thought that might hide behind the faces. Is it because she said folk would wonder and pity, knowing Vess had kept her? Pity. Was it for himself he feared, that men would pity him for what Ylia had been unable to prevent?
He suddenly began to understand her fears, and it made him intensely uncomfortable. Gods, beloved.
“So. Vess has Koderra.” Marhan slapped the table with both hands. “Could not wait, could he? Well! What do we do about it?”
“Koderra?” Erken asked. “Vess? Should we do anything? Or could we?” Marhan shrugged. “You said Vess could not wait; I think that is all this means. He cannot readily attack us from Koderra, as he perhaps might if he had taken Teshmor. No, he has always wanted Brandt's City and now he has it.”
“I wonder Lyiadd did not keep him in Yslar,” Corlin said. “For he was there—”
“He was.” Galdan settled back into his chair. “But Yls is taken; Vess may not be needed there. Perhaps Lyiadd did not want the burden of Vess’ armed upon the City, in addition to his own armed. Perhaps the Three wield well together but do not share close quarters willingly.”
“He and Marrita loathe each other,” Bendesevorian said. “That was strong in his thought. But Vess will not attack this place from Koderra, for that is not in Lyiadd's plan, and Vess is loyal to his father. That is the rest of my news.
“I had to work my way slowly from the peak above the old road to the walls, and from there to the ravine where the main escape passage ends. There were many ships at anchor, and I gathered from the thoughts and speech of those on the docks that this was not normal, so many ships. There were fifteen of the black-hulled hunter ships, and two enormous open ones, brightly painted. There were faces on the hulls of these last, three banks of oars per ship. I have not seen their like before.”