Frostflower and Windbourne (Frostflower & Thorn)

by Phyllis Ann Karr

  “Thorn is under my protection equally with the others,” said the priestess. Thorn kept her sigh of relief strictly inside herself.

  Windbourne stepped away from Eleva and lifted one arm. “How long does a townmaster take to obey a priestess? Remember, Master Youngwise, I have never been stripped!”

  Well, well, well! thought Thorn. Has he finally decided he’s got something in him, or does he just think it’s safe to pretend?

  “All gods guide you and bless your people,” said Master Youngwise. After a glance at his first wallkeeper, he turned and herded the other warriors out. None of them acted sorry to go.

  “Well, Eaglesight,” said Eleva, breathing deeply and rapidly, “will you continue to serve such a doubletongued scoundrel?”

  Eaglesight pushed herself away from the wall, where she had been leaning at ease as if to enjoy a ballad. “Lady Eleva, if Master Youngwise had wanted to serve your brother, he could have ordered his spearwomen to throw as soon as they saw the blackrobes, and claimed he was only acting as Rondasu’s voice. As for me, I wouldn’t leave my post for anything less than first raidleader, but I’m old enough that leading raids doesn’t sound all that pleasurable anymore.” Sheathing her sword, she held out the lamp in her left hand to Thorn, who put Stabber away in order to take it.

  “We can hardly ask for the townmaster’s mules now,” said Eleva. “But I can still claim my own wagon and donkeys. Have them readied at once and brought here to the holy hall. And I will still trouble you to find clothes for my warrior.”

  Eaglesight nodded, saluted the priestess, and strode away after Youngwise, leaving only the runner, who still lay on the floor.

  “She’s right,” said Thorn. “The old bastard will stay on the wall as long as he can, Lady, but if we don’t push him off ourselves to your brother’s side, he’ll sit on the wall with one leg dangling on our side and the other tucked up beneath his own behind.”

  Eleva shrugged. “Those who will not choose a side put themselves above the gods. And you, Turtlefoot—Swiftcurrent?”

  “Lady Reverence,” the runner said without lifting his head, “I was raised in your family’s farm.…I do not know any other, whether other halls are better or worse.…”

  “Lady,” said Frostflower, “this was the young man who served them tonight at dinner.”

  Eleva stepped close to Frostflower and spoke so low that Thorn, who stood with her back to them and kept watch on the servant, could hear only enough to gather that the priestess was asking whether Swiftcurrent had had any part in the murder and the sorceress was replying that she thought he had not. After a moment, Eleva stepped forward again. “If you come into my service, Swiftcurrent, you will live behind a bolted door until this trouble with his Reverence Rondasu is finished. If I win, you will probably be taken to Center-of-Everywhere and made to tell all your story and, if need be, submit yourself to the judgment of the High Gathering. If Rondasu defeats me, he may well hang you for changing your loyalty. But if I win and if you prove your good faith, then I promise your life will be very much better in my farm than in Rondasu’s.”

  Swiftcurrent raised his head and lowered it again at once. “Lady…you’ve—befriended sorceri…the same ones who sorcered and killed…”

  Frostflower went to the young man and knelt beside him. It was hard to see which of them trembled more, but she laid one hand on his shoulder. Though he jerked at first, he did not pull away.

  “If you so completely believed that we killed them,” said the sorceress, “would you not have left this place with the townmaster and his warriors?”

  “Good,” said Eleva, “but say no more to him.”

  “His Reverence ordered me not to return without…seeing that Lady Eleva was safe.…Lady!” cried the servant. “If I could leave here, run away to Glantregion or Nearmidnorth and never trouble—”

  “No!” said Eleva. “You must choose now: Reverence Rondasu or Reverence Eleva.”

  Swiftcurrent pushed himself up from the floor, felt his face as if searching for wrinkles, took two shaky steps forward, knelt before the priestess, and lifted his hands to her.

  “Then take off my brother’s token,” she said.

  Still trembling, he lifted the chain with Rondasu’s symbol from around his neck and held it up to her. She snatched it from his hand and hurled it to the floor. The noise brought a yelp from Dowl and a scurry and hissing from Coyclaws, who had been crouching forgotten in the shadows.

  “Pick it up, Thorn,” said the priestess. “My anger threw it down, not my sense. Better to melt it and rework the metal than to leave it here in foolish scorn. Swiftcurrent, you will have my token to wear when we are back in my own farm. Thorn, take him in charge and go watch for my wagon.”

  Thorn saluted. “With all respect, Lady Reverence, I’m still an outlaw in everybody else’s opinion. I’d rather not go out in plain sight without you.”

  “I did not accept you into my service for your caution.”

  “Call it skin-sense,” Thorn replied. “Besides, you gave me a pretty damn nippy burn, and I’d like a little sorcerous healing on it.”

  The priestess smiled, pulled a golden from the small white purse at her belt, and edged the coin into Thorn’s left hand, between fingers and lamp. “I have not forgotten your wish to be in somebody’s pay.”

  “Swiftcurrent,” said Frostflower, “was Lady Intassa already dead when you left?”

  “Yes…dead. I—saw it myself.” He stared at the floor. Frostflower covered her face with her hands.

  “She was not as strong as her first husband,” said Eleva. “And perhaps she had less will to live. But the child, Swiftcurrent? What of her son, Invaron?”

  Swiftcurrent looked up and blinked. “Invaron, Lady? Who would harm the child?” He glanced at Windbourne as if not quite sure, even now, that sorcery was not behind the deaths.

  “Lady,” said the sorceress, “I think your brother wants Vari for his heir. I think…oh, God! I think he is never likely to beget his own child.”

  Eleva gazed at her. “Say no more of this. Not here. Some truths might defile even a Truth Grove. Yes…Vari is safe. If they have the raising of him, they will try to twist his mind, but for now he is safe. That will give us some time to plan—though we must plan quickly. Well, Thorn, does your skin-sense prefer to lead us, or to guard our rear?”

  “If I lead,” said Thorn, “I want to give the orders until we’re back in your farm, Reverence.”

  Eleva hesitated. Thorn’s request was as custom-breaking as anything else that night. No warrior ever gave commands to a priest or priestess, because no priest or priestess ever joined a raiding party or was otherwise entrapped in such a situation. But Thorn guessed that Eleva’s use for her required just this kind of boldness toward priests, and Thorn’s guess seemed to be well founded, for Eleva said at last, “Well, then command us, and let me see what kind of raidleader you’ll make.”

  So Thorn became “raidleader” of four non-fighters and two animals: looking back, she saw that the cat had rejoined them, this time curling herself in Eleva’s arm. The priestess was stroking Coyclaws absentmindedly, not noticing or caring that some of the white flour and black dye was rubbing off onto her white robe.

  While they waited in the doorway, Frostflower finally had her chance to heal Thorn’s burned back. She had just about finished when Eleva’s small wagon arrived, Eaglesight leading the pair of donkeys with one stableman to help her.

  Thorn considered the situation as she pulled on the warrior’s trousers and tunic Eaglesight had brought her—poor, practice-session stuff, but more serviceable than sorcerous underclothes. “Only two can ride,” she announced, buckling the leather belt. As she noticed Eleva glancing at Windbourne appraisingly, the swordswoman went on, “Your Reverence and Frostflower will ride. These two scoundrels and I need
to stretch our legs.”

  Eleva frowned at Thorn. “I had thought the two sorceri should perhaps ride. Surely one of them can rein my gentle donkeys as well as I.”

  “We depend on your priestly sanctity,” the warrior replied. “Priestly sanctity doesn’t walk beside a wagon.”

  Eleva smiled and obeyed orders.

  Not quite trusting the runner Swiftcurrent, Thorn secured his right knee to the lead donkey’s neck by a four-pace length of rope. This brought another slight frown from Eleva—although she must not quite trust him, either, if she planned to keep him in a bolted alcove—but no protest from either Swiftcurrent or the donkey. None of them spoke again until they reached the Northwest Gate, where Eaglesight directed the gatewarriors to let the party through, and then returned with the stableman to town-center.

  Thorn had begun by walking on Eleva’s side of the wagon, tacitly intending Windbourne to walk on Frostflower’s side. But once out on the Mirrelroad, he worked his way around to Eleva’s side, and Thorn let him stay there. If Wedgepopper wanted to itch, let him itch. At least he was showing initiative in something besides thinking up penances for himself and telling Frostflower what sorceri should and should not eat. Besides, Thorn was just as happy to work her own way around to Frostflower’s side of the wagon.

  When they were well away from town, Frostflower asked, “Lady Reverence…you said that those who will not take part in a struggle put themselves above the gods?”

  She spoke so low that if Thorn had still been on the other side of the wagon she might not have overheard all the words.

  “If the gods love truth and justice,” the priestess replied, “it seems clear they must favor those mortals who are most nearly truthful and just. At least to rejoice when they win.”

  “But we are not gods, Lady,” said Frostflower. “We do not see everything clearly at once, and if we do not choose one side or the other, may it not be from ignorance—humility—rather than pride?”

  Eleva tsked to the donkeys before she replied. “You think I was hasty in condemning Youngwise, Frostflower? Or are we speaking of Master Youngwise?”

  “No, Lady, I…Lady, forgive me!” the sorceress exclaimed. “I feared that you had poisoned your husband!”

  “Ah?” said Eleva. For several moments she seemed to concentrate on driving the mules. Dowl whined and bumped his way between Thorn’s leg and the wagon. Thorn reached up and rubbed Frostflower’s shoulder. The runner glanced back, stumbled a little for the first time, caught himself and walked on, timing his pace with the donkey’s. In the light of the wagon lanterns Thorn could see Windbourne gazing at Eleva almost the way Dowl sometimes gazed at Frostflower. Only the cat acted unconcerned, sitting on the back of the wagon trying to wash her fur white again.

  “In a way,” Eleva said at last, “I am complimented. There’s a proverb in the second or third scroll of Eltern, ‘Those who are incapable of great sin are rarely capable of great good.’ We’ll ignore the notion that according to that proverb my sibs should have it in them to become the greatest benefactors of our generation.”

  “They are your sibs, Lady Reverence,” said Windbourne.

  She turned her head to look at him.

  “I meant—” he hurried to explain “—their capability, your capability—but where they’ve turned it to evil, you’ve turned it to good.”

  Eleva faced forward again. “We’ve not yet heard all that Frostflower witnessed. But I suspect you’re putting too great a burden on me, sorcerer, if you want me to do good in proportion to their evil.”

  CHAPTER 13

  “Would you prefer to take the children to one of the cottages for the rest of the night, Blowingbud?” Eleva asked in a low voice.

  The young nurse glanced again at the sorceri. “No, Lady, best not interrupt the children’s night.”

  Eleva had chosen her new nurse well. She nodded and touched the young woman’s arm. (Comfort and reassurance for everyone but herself!) “Yes, best to let them sleep undisturbed; we were fortunate not to wake them when we came.” Blowingbud was a good, faithful servant and deserved to know more of the situation, but the truth had so deeply disturbed Frostflower, a stranger. Eleva needed time to decide how much the nurse might assimilate without passing on her grief and horror to little Evron and Evra.

  Thorn came back from hanging the winter door at the alcove assigned to Swiftcurrent. Blowingbud had plainly been baffled that the runner was to be bolted into his chamber and the sorceri were not, but she seemed to accept it as a move to avoid angering the blackrobes, Eleva watched her move past them, nodding respectfully but careful not to come within arm’s reach, and disappear through the arch to ready their beds. Then Eleva beckoned to Thorn.

  There would be no rest for either priestess or warrior yet, but there was a tray of cold food and drink waiting in Eleva’s office; the nurse had prepared it at the same time as the meals for sorceri and runner. Except for Blowingbud, only the two gatewarriors and the night watchgirl knew of their arrival. Eleva poured a cup of wine for herself and began to pour one for Thorn, but the warrior shook her head and filled her own cup with water from the second flask.

  “We must strike quickly, before they strike,” said Eleva. “But there’s not enough of this night left, and by tomorrow night…”

  Thorn sat, putting one elbow on the table. “If we don’t make our move before tomorrow night, what do you expect your sibs to do?”

  Eleva also sat. “When Rondasu learns that I’ve taken you, the sorceri, and Swiftcurrent under my protection, he will probably demand that I accompany him to Center-of-Everywhere on a charge of heresy. When I refuse, he’ll have the excuse I suspect he’s been wanting to raid my farm. He may even send his warriors into this hall to spear the sorceri.” Eleva swallowed a mouthful of wine. If Rondasu had a warrior as daring as Thorn, the priestess might expect to be murdered in her own hall during the raid and her death blamed on Frostflower and Windbourne.

  “If he has a traditional-minded raidleader,” said Thorn, “she’ll want to raid while the moon’s still bright. That means it’ll come within the next two or three nights.”

  “His raidleader is Strongneck, once second wallkeeper of Five Roads Crossing. I believe you know her, Thorn.”

  “Hellbog! Yes, that bitch would love the chance to spear sorceri in a priests’ hall.”

  “We’ll have a few hours between dark and moonrise tomorrow night,” said Eleva. “I know you don’t like to raid without the moon, but if we could take them by surprise, in the early part of the night…”

  Thorn grinned and shook her head. “Reverence, I’d love to try leading a raid without moonlight. But we’d be shaving things pretty fine.” She took a cold leg of roasted spring chicken from the tray, but did not begin to eat it. “Gods know I’d rather fight than dither around…but suppose, when your brother demands you go to Center with him, you agree? Your whole aim’s to get him and Shara there anyway, isn’t it? Why not let them do the work and turn the edge against them once we’re there?”

  “Because if they arrange the journey with us under their…charge and keeping, none of us are likely to arrive. He’ll demand both sorceri be stripped. You’d not want Frostflower to suffer that a second time?” (Nor do I wish to see that sorcerer inside any other woman! He is so like the blackrobe of my dreams.) “He’ll also demand you go in bars and chains, Thorn, if he does not demand your immediate scaffolding and hanging. Once on the road, all of us, Swiftcurrent as well, will probably be dead of some strange malady or sorcerous mischief or gods’ revenge within three or four days. No. I prefer to take my sibs under my charge and keeping, and bring my witnesses alive to Center-of-Everywhere.”

  “Then turn the edge against him right away. Go to him tomorrow morning and demand he accompany you to Center.”

  “He will refuse. And he has the visible charges against m
e. And I can hardly let knowledge of his crime and my sister’s spread among the common folk. Little as we priests may deserve our reputation for sanctity.”

  “Don’t give him the choice,” said Thorn. “Hellbog, I’ve had enough of this giving suggestions—it’s what the sorceri do. They never order each other around, just give each other suggestions. How many of your women do you think we could depend on to follow me right away?”

  “They will all follow you.”

  Thorn took another drink of water. “You’ve already got a raidleader. She isn’t going to like giving up her place overnight to an outlawed sorceri-lover. And if she’s any good, she’ll have the other women’s loyalty and they won’t want me.”

  “They will give you their loyalty because I command it.”

  “Lady Reverence,” said the swordswoman, “maybe when you took over this farm, you could dip right in. Maybe you got loyalty right away, and you’re so used to being obeyed without question that you think all you’ve got to do is give your command. But it doesn’t work that way in warriors’ barracks. If I had a couple of hatchings and a chance to fight a few of your women one-to-one, yes, I think I’d get their respect. But I couldn’t be comfortable leading them today, on the strength of your command, any more than I’d be comfortable going into a raid with an untempered sword.”

  Or than I would be riding a colt not yet trained to obey the directions of knees and reins, thought Eleva. Yes, Thorn was probably right. Warriors were a class apart; they would accept the knowledge of priests’ guilt and help to keep the secret from common folk, but that did not necessarily mean they could bring themselves, between one sunrise and the next, to lay their own hands on a priest. Nor, as she looked back, had her own assumption of command been perfectly smooth. A few of her most traditionally-minded people had even left to find work in other farms when she built her steamgardens. “Well, warrior, do you have a plan?”