Elephant Thief

by Lia Patterson

  Suddenly, with a last yearning cry the fiddle fell silent. Like puppets that had their strings cut, we drew to a halt. I leant panting against Rhys’s chest, but though every breath hurt, I only wanted to go on. We had been on the brink of something…

  I lifted my face to him and found him staring down at me, his pupils dilated so wide his eyes had gone completely black. Hunger filled them, calling forth an answering need from deep inside me.

  His hands tightened on me convulsively. “Arisha…” he breathed.

  “Well, I don’t believe it!” Taren’s cheerful voice interrupted him. “You’ve beaten the demon fiddler.”

  Rhys spun round.

  “Eagle?” his friend asked, taking a hasty step back.

  Rhys’s grip slowly relaxed. “So we have,” he said, his voice rough.

  I became aware of the people around us clapping and cheering and tried to straighten up, but my legs would not obey me. At once Rhys slid his arm around my waist to support me.

  “Arisha, are you all right? Do you need a rest?”

  “I…I am fine,” I assured him, but it was a lie.

  What was happening to me? A host of conflicting emotions filled me, amongst them the strong impulse to wish Taren to the ninth hell for interrupting us. But I was a mage, supposed to keep a tight control on myself! How could I give in to my feelings in such a manner?

  Yes, it was not the hunger I had read in Rhys’s eyes that disturbed me, I realised, but rather my own reaction to it: I wanted to match it! He was the enemy of my people, on the brink of unleashing war on them. Why did I keep forgetting that fact and had to repeat it endlessly like a praying chant?

  “I need to catch my breath for a moment,” I stuttered and twisted out of Rhys’s hold, “excuse me.”

  He let me go, but checked me with a touch on my arm. “Arisha, what is it?”

  “Nothing. Shouldn’t you dance with some of the other ladies?” I wanted to run and hide somewhere to sort out my tangled emotions, but the light touch of his fingers bound me like a manacle.

  He searched my face. “Will you grant me another dance later?”

  I would have promised anything at all to get away, so I nodded. “If you wish.”

  He hesitated for a moment, but released me. “I’ll hold you to it, lady of mine.”

  I hardly heard the words, at once weaving my way through the people watching the dancing. Though the fiddler still stood bent over to one side, catching his breath, the musicians had struck up another tune, a fast, cheerful jig, as if the people celebrating tonight didn’t have a care in the world. For myself, I just wanted to get away from the noise, the crowd and the heat of the fire.

  At the edge of the square I paused, unsure where to go. My hair had come undone during the last dance to hang down one side of my face. Impatiently I pinned it back up.

  “Lady Arisha, what a surprise.”

  I froze with a last pin still in my hand, but there was no escaping Lady Enit. Warily I turned to face her. “Yes?” Didn’t the woman have anything better to do than accosting me, for example hovering over her daughter?

  Her cheeks were flushed with drink, but unfortunately she hadn’t reached the incoherent stage yet. “What would your prince say if he could see you, I wonder?” she asked with a sneer.

  “What should he say?” I snapped. Not the best answer, but I still felt off balance. It even was a valid question, but certainly not Lady Enit’s place to ask.

  “He might wonder what one of his own is doing cosying up to his enemy,” she replied. “But as they say, when the barn burns, the rats run.”

  So she thought I was seeking protection from Prince Bahram’s possible downfall? A strange recklessness took hold of me. “In that case you should take it as a good sign for your cause,” I threw back.

  She pressed her lips together at my flippancy. “You’re in an exuberant mood tonight. One can’t help wondering what price you’ve paid Lord Rhys for your safety?” She let her voice trail off suggestively.

  “Why don’t you ask him?” And if she did, I wanted to witness that particular conversation!

  Her eyes narrowed. “I grant you this, at the moment Lord Rhys seems very much captivated by your charms.” Her tone made clear what kind of woman she thought me.

  I bared my teeth in a smile. “Thank you.”

  My lack of reaction seemed to rile her. “So sure of yourself, Lady Arisha. But one day Lord Rhys might wake from his infatuation and ask himself just why Prince Bahram would offer ten talents of gold to get you back.”

  That threw me for a moment. “What do you mean?”

  “Perhaps it’s worth his while for the information you’ve gathered for him?”

  She thought me a spy! I could have laughed out loud when I remembered how Rhys had proved that very day that I didn’t know his plans at all.

  “Is that the only reason you can think of?”

  “Why else?”

  I’d had enough of our conversation and pushed the last pin into my hair, though I was tempted to stick it in Lady Enit instead. “For my sweet self?” I asked. “Just because nobody would pay even one copper for you, doesn’t have to mean the same goes for everybody else.”

  And I left her standing there with her mouth hanging open and her cheeks slowly flushing with anger. Quickly I twisted away to seek the shadow of the hall, but if anything, talking to Lady Enit had only churned up my emotions further. How dare she insinuate I was betraying my people! And most annoyingly, a tiny corner of my mind pointed out how it might indeed look that way. In truth, I had not made a determined push to escape with Hami, even though the elephant was long recovered. There might be ways for my magic to get us out, but I had never seriously considered them. Instead I had let myself be caught up in the lives of these people and had now given my word not to escape. How had I let myself be snared so completely?

  Finally I sought the quiet of my chamber, but found no peace there either. Music drifted over on the still night air from the square, reminding me of my dance with Rhys. As I lay on the bed, my thoughts just went round and round in my head, like a cat chasing its own tail.

  How had the man managed to get me into such a state? It was all highly annoying. I couldn’t even put my finger on any real wrongdoing of his. A smile here, a look there, a light touch of his fingers, the tone of his voice when he spoke my name…

  I turned onto my belly and pulled my pillow over my head, as if I could shut him out that way. The man deserved to be sent to the ninth hell to freeze there for eternity! And one thing was certain: I would not grant him any more dances, not if I valued my sanity.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Eventually I turned to meditation exercises, but even they failed to calm the churning waters of my mind. The noises of celebration – laughter, loud talking and music – continued to float over from the great hall, disturbing my peace. Yet finally the place quietened down, and some time after midnight I fell into a fitful sleep. Plagued by restless dreams, I stirred before dawn, woken by activity in the corridor. When I stuck my head outside, a maid was just hurrying by.

  “What’s happening?” I asked.

  “Lord Rhys is leaving,” she answered, “we need to get breakfast on the go.”

  So he had been serious about leaving at dawn! After seeing all the mead and ale consumed last night, I had dismissed it as a fanciful notion.

  The maid hastened on, but I hesitated what to do. My first impulse was to seek Rhys out, but really what should I say to him? I smoothed down my green dress, crumpled from sleeping in, and straightened my hair with the remaining pins. I could hardly wish him success, yet to have him leave without seeing him one last time…

  Without conscious thought I found myself in the corridor, heading for his study. But when I got there, male voices issued from it, engaged in some kind of last minute planning. I listened for a moment, unerringly making out Rhys’s deep tone, but could not force myself to go inside. To make my good-byes in front of everybody when I didn’
t even know what to say?

  Instead I flitted past the door. I needed a quiet place to think – luckily there existed one being who would always accept me for what I was and offer me comfort.

  The courtyard was deserted when I got there, except for Hami chewing sleepily on some grass. He was scratching his side, rubbing against the trunk of the beech tree, but let off upon spotting me. His chains jingled softly as he stepped forward to greet me, ears flapping with pleasure.

  I stroked his trunk, and his warm, hay scented breath ghosted across my face when he searched it gently. In the predawn light tendrils of fog floated by, obscuring the buildings around us.

  “Oh Hami,” I said, “what should I do?”

  The elephant just regarded me with his wise, soft eyes. Ever since I could remember, he’d been a dependable presence in my life, offering stability and constancy when everything else shifted around me, but this morning his solid bulk brought me no peace.

  I felt as if conflicting forces pulled me apart. On one side my upbringing as a Sikhandi mage demanded loyalty to my country, on the other side beckoned Rhys with his magnetic personality. I shook my head. How did the man do it? A few kind words, those intense eyes catching mine, a simple dance and I was all but ready to throw myself at him!

  “Utter madness,” I muttered.

  How many more times did I have to tell myself that there could be nothing between us? Besides, he had probably spent the rest of the evening dancing with one woman after another, making them fall for him. As for where he’d spent the night, I didn’t want to know.

  I leant my forehead against Hami’s trunk. “I know, I’m a complete fool.” He rumbled softly in answer, as if agreeing with me.

  The loyalty of a lifetime should have belonged to Sikhand, yet my efforts of escape so far had been laughable. I hadn’t even really tried after that abortive attempt at the river crossing. What would my father have said? I wondered if he was watching me from his place on the Wheel, disappointed in his daughter.

  A few days spent in Rhys’s company, and he had almost won me over, making me forget what I owed to my friends: Navid, Yasaman, the elephant boys who helped with chores…

  “I will stop this madness,” I vowed. “Here and now.”

  Somebody cleared his throat behind me. “Arisha?”

  I spun round to find Rhys standing there, clad in a suit of chain mail with a tabard thrown over it. At once Hami snaked his trunk forward to search his pockets, for he had become used to receiving treats from him. The traitor hadn’t even warned me of the man’s approach!

  Rhys patted him affectionately. “Sorry, my friend, I have nothing for you this morning.” He fixed me with that disconcerting gaze of his. “I’ve come for your mistress.”

  Of course my heart decided that moment to double its rate. “For me?” I stuttered, surely a singularly inane reply. When we had quarrelled, I had never been so tongue-tied!

  However, Rhys gave no sign that he noticed my confusion. “You promised me another dance last night, remember? But you simply disappeared.” He took my hand. “I’ve come to claim it.”

  “Now? But we can’t!”

  “Why not?”

  Surely he had to see it was a ridiculous idea! “Look at you,” I said weakly, motioning to his chain mail. “And anyway, there is no music.”

  “We can make our own.” And putting one hand on my waist, he began to hum and took a few steps, pulling me with him. A small voice of sanity inside my head told me to send him away at once, but I had no volition. Instead I followed his lead, letting him guide me.

  He had chosen a slow tune and we glided along as if caught in a dream, turning leisurely while streamers of mist parted around us. Almost at once the spell of the dance threatened to creep over me again, that strange harmony of moving together with a single mind. How easily I could lose all sense of self.

  I tried to steel myself by repeating over and over that Rhys was the Eagle. A killer. The arms that slipped around my waist so lightly also wielded a sword. The dark eyes regarding me usually sighted down the shaft of an arrow. And the hands burning through the thin silk of my robe had slit many a Sikhandi’s throat.

  Rhys paused in his humming. “Arisha, what is it?”

  I looked away. “Nothing. Don’t you have to join your men for breakfast? People will notice your absence.”

  Rhys shrugged. “There is time yet.” Imperceptibly his hand slipped up my back while we slowly twirled round. “When you danced with me last night, you looked me in the eye and smiled,” he whispered. “What has happened to the pliant lady I held in my arms?”

  His voice, warm and low, was almost impossible to resist. I had to brace myself against the overwhelming desire to melt into his arms. “Perhaps the pliant lady remembered that you are about to make war on her people?” I suggested, trying to break the spell.

  Rhys fell silent as we continued our dance under the curious eyes of Hami, who probably wondered at the strange behaviour of humans. The gravel of the courtyard crunched under our steps, and Rhys’s chain mail jingled softly every now and again. We had to look ridiculous! And didn’t Rhys need to go back? The dance seemed to have gone on forever, and I longed for a respite. Yet deep inside me another voice cheered him on, wanting it to never end. For once we finished, he would go and… somehow I could not face that thought.

  “I will try to show mercy whenever possible,” Rhys said suddenly. “I’m not inhuman.”

  “And if it’s not possible?” I knew that wars took on a momentum of their own. What if he did something unforgivable? Or his men did? Could I still like him then – or like myself if I did?

  “Arisha, I intend to win this encounter and free Aneirion, whatever it takes.”

  I shivered. Whatever it took? “Even if the price is your own life?”

  “Yes,” he sighed. “Sikhand will leave these lands. If I fall, somebody else will pick up the banner and continue the struggle.”

  He said it so matter-of-factly! My heart contracted at the thought of him dying. A world without Rhys in it…

  He seemed to read my mind. “Don’t worry, my sweet, I have no intention of having the Lady claim me yet.” He smiled. “Indeed I’m determined to live to a ripe old age and die of too much mead.”

  I tried to smile back, but must have failed utterly, for he drew to a halt and lifted a hand to stroke my cheek. “I’m so sorry. I know my plans pain you, but I cannot give them up. Do you hate me for it?”

  I shook my head, tears pricking my eyes. “I could never hate you, Rhys.”

  “I need to go through with this,” he whispered. “Don’t you see, it’s the only thing I can do for them.”

  I understood him instinctively. “Your family?”

  Rhys nodded. “Seren was only eighteen,” he said, his voice rough with pain. “How she would have loved a dance like the one last night.”

  The poor girl! I didn’t know what to say, just took his hand and squeezed it.

  He stared into space. “She must have been so frightened! And I wasn’t there when she needed me, she died alone.” He touched my cheek where unnoticed a tear had slid down. “I failed her, I failed them all by not being there.”

  “You couldn’t have known,” I protested.

  “Father didn’t want me to go to Sikhand, you know,” Rhys said. “He thought that kind of learning worthless.” A bitter smile. “And I suppose he was right, philosophy didn’t help me, unlike the books on tactics I read because of my interest in Shah. But he gave in and let me go me in the end. So I sat there safe in a teahouse in Sikhand, while they died at Glynhir.”

  “Yet what could you have done, had you been there?”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I tell myself that perhaps I might have suspected Maziar. And at the very least I could have died with them.”

  The guilt of the survivor. “Rhys, the man responsible for their deaths has long met his end,” I said very gently. “You have avenged them.” For whatever good that did.
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  “It doesn’t feel like enough,” Rhys echoed my thoughts. “I killed him with my own hands.” He stared at them as if expecting to still see the blood dripping from them. “And we burnt Glynhir to the ground. Yet will anything ever feel like enough?”

  I took his hands in mine and could feel the tension strumming through him. “I’m so sorry, Rhys. But nothing you do will bring them back.”

  “I know that!” he snapped.

  “But there has been so much death already,” I pleaded, “how can more people dying make it any better?”

  “You don’t understand.” He took a few steps away and turned his back on me. “Anyway, it’s too late now, I cannot give up.”

  “Why not?”

  “We’ve decided: the only way to throw the Sikhandi out of this country is to fight them.” Every line of his body spoke of determination.

  The man was as stubborn as a mule! “You could at least try to negotiate first,” I said, taking a step after him. “Surely there has to be a way to avoid more bloodshed.”

  “We’ve been over all this before, Arisha,” he snapped. “It’s impossible.”

  “Not possible or not wanted?” I put my hand on his shoulder, but all I touched was the cold iron of his hauberk. “Remember what I said about being a great general?”

  He whirled round. “It’s all very well for some sage in Sikhand who does not have to face an enemy endowed with magic to write clever sayings. This is the real world, and I will win this war!”

  He would not give in and neither would Prince Bahram. Like two tuskers locked in mortal combat, neither would yield until the other shed his lifeblood. And why did I even care! I clenched my fists.

  “There has to be a way,” I insisted.

  Lightly he placed his hands on my shoulders. “Arisha, some facts just have to be accepted.”

  In answer I shook my head. I would never do that!

  Rhys sighed. “Really, I think you’re the most stubborn person I know.”