Thunderlord

by Marion Zimmer Bradley

  Alayna was so shocked at the idea—luring not only a man but his wife into harm’s reach and then doing away with them both—that she sat back in her chair, speechless. Gwynn was so strong and vital, she had never thought of Scathfell as being vulnerable in that way. Then she remembered that Dom Nevin was a kinsman. The thought of him inheriting Scathfell, should Gwynn die without a son, was odious beyond words.

  “What if the greater risk lies not in accepting this summons but in refusing?” Ruyven said. “Would that be considered an insult? And would a man like Allart Hastur avenge the slight by force of arms?”

  “Indeed, that is the question, one I fear we cannot answer by sitting up here in our mountains,” Gwynn replied. “Nor can we foretell what benefit might come to us by going, not if we had a Tower of leroni at our command.”

  Alayna thought of something and, haltingly, expressed it: might Gwynn be able to forge an alliance with Allart Hastur to strengthen his position against Aldaran? The Hastur king had once been Aldaran’s friend, but might he change sides as a result of this visit? Did the invitation indicate his willingness to do so?

  Somewhat to her surprise, Ruyven, who had so far ignored what she had to say, listened attentively. “That would explain the invitation and, if true, would be too great an opportunity to pass up,” he said. “I believe Aldaran will be far less likely to attack if he loses the backing of the king.”

  “That is an excellent point, worthy of serious consideration,” Gwynn said. “We will discuss the matter tomorrow, after I have thought about it.”

  Over the next few days, while Gwynn conferred with Ruyven and others in his court, Alayna began to suspect that she might be pregnant again. After the miscarriage, she had begun keeping track of her cycles, and one had been very light, only a few spots of blood; now she was late for the second. Her breasts felt a little fuller, as they had before, and the smell of breakfast made her feel queasy. She determined to not say anything until she was certain, especially not to Jerana, who would scold her about stopping the tea. So far, none of the women attending her seemed to have noticed. As for Gwynn, she would wait before she said anything, at least until she was sure the danger had passed. She did not want to get his hopes up.

  On the third morning after the messenger arrived, Gwynn informed her that he had decided they would go to Thendara. All things considered, he explained, the possible benefits of an alliance with Allart Hastur, combined with the king’s reputation for fair dealings, outweighed the risks. They were sitting in Gwynn’s parlor, eating breakfast together, which was unusual enough in itself. Alayna was trying hard not to react to the sausages—fat, spicy ones, browned crisp and sitting in little puddles of their own grease, that ordinarily she would have adored. But Gwynn was so focused on his news, he didn’t seem to notice.

  “That will please you, won’t it?” he asked. “To go to a big city and mingle with the fine folk there? I’m afraid we’ll have to leave right away if we’re to arrive for Midsummer Festival. The roads will still be under snow in places. But you had a taste of that on your way here.”

  “As long as I am warmly dressed and with you, caryo, then I shall be all right.”

  Ruyven was already waiting for them in the presence chamber. Then the messenger was brought in, looking considerably less trail-worn than before. He stood, his face expressionless, his body as straight and uncommunicative as a stick.

  When Gwynn had finished addressing him, however, a change came over the messenger. His posture shifted into that of a much more confident man. “Then I am bid to tell you in the name of King Allart Hastur that quarters suitable to your rank will be prepared for you in the castle at Thendara, as for other noble guests who travel from afar. King Allart himself will vouch for your safety, and you will not find more comfortable accommodations anywhere in the city.” Then the alteration in voice and mien passed, and the thin, slightly awkward messenger stood once more before them.

  Gwynn paused for a moment before answering. “On behalf of myself, my wife, and our party, I accept the invitation.” Alayna knew his voice well enough to know how pleased he was. There was a little more discussion on such matters as how many guards and servants might be housed, and Gwynn seemed happy with the assurances. The messenger paused, his face blank as he committed the interview to memory, and then bowed and withdrew.

  “Well, Ruyven,” Gwynn said, still clearly in a good mood, “I’ll want lists of who is to come, how many men and baggage animals, and likely accommodations along the route. How soon can you have that for me?”

  “Within the hour, my lord. I have been preparing a plan since the messenger first arrived.”

  “And what if I’d refused? All your labor gone to waste?” Gwynn said in an easy, bantering tone.

  Ruyven bowed, and Alayna saw this banter was a long time amusement for the two men. “My labor is in your service, vai dom, and as you yourself pointed out, the road to Thendara is long. It is a pity air-cars cannot fly in this part of the Hellers, or King Allart might have sent one for us and we would have a much quicker journey.”

  “Air-cars!” Alayna had heard of them, flying craft powered and guided by laran, but had never imagined she’d see one. The batteries required a working Tower circle to charge, and the pilot must also be a trained laranzu. To own such a craft must be hideously expensive.

  “Very pretty toys, I am sure, but hardly practical for us mountain folk,” Gwynn said. “I have never flown in one, but I believe they hold only a couple of passengers and very little cargo. My lady, I expect you will require three pack horses and five maids. I know the wiles of women, you see. It will be all balls and concerts and invitations and gossip-gossip-gossip with every other young noblewoman in the city.”

  Alayna flushed. “It is true that I look forward with pleasure to those things. I have lived a sheltered life far away from any city, as you well know, my lord. Is it so wrong to enjoy them while you men are at politics?”

  “Not at all. Little goose, can’t you tell I’m teasing you? Has winter here in Scathfell Castle turned you so very serious? Then I prescribe a season of gaiety.”

  “As for the pack horses and maids, may I remind you that I traveled all the way from my home with only my sister for female companionship and one pack animal between us?” Alayna retorted.

  “She has spirit, my wife! Very well, I will not inflict more clothes or attendants on you. Choose your own maid and what gowns you wish. I am sure you can have more made up for you in Thendara—Ruyven, help me here. Is that not how it is done?”

  “Indeed, vai dom, for how else could the lady partake of the latest fashions? A gown that is all very well for our little court here may be hopelessly unsophisticated by Thendara standards.”

  Gwynn threw back his head and laughed. “There speaks the man who intends to buy three suits of the finest styles for himself, at great expense, all in service to his vanity.”

  The preparations for the journey from Rockraven to Scathfell had been nothing compared to what must be done now. Gwynn had not been entirely joking about the number of baggage animals, for they must carry not only food, warm clothing, and trail tents for the entire party, but attire and ornaments for their first days in Thendara—before the opportunity to shop—and gifts for the king and queen as well. Ruyven arranged everything, and there was very little for Alayna to do except select what clothing and jewels she wished to bring. The prospect of new, fashionable attire pleased her more than she was willing to admit. As for a lady’s companion, Dimitra was the logical choice, although since the miscarriage, she had looked surprisingly haggard and far older than her years. Alayna feared that the demands of tending to her mistress on a long journey were beyond her strength. In the end, Alayna chose Sadhi, who might not be the most sophisticated but was earnest and hard-working and overjoyed with the prospect.

  At last everything was ready and they set out on a warmish morning. The first part
of the journey wound along the valley of Scathfell and through the mountains in the surrounding lands. As the days passed, the mountainsides changed from snow on bare rock to slopes of dense forest. Freshets of melt water cascaded down from the heights, joining streams that filled the air with music. Birds sang in the brief midday warmth, and the best archer in the company brought down a deer now and again, and they dined on fresh meat. The nights brought snow and sometimes freezing sleet and once, the howls of wolves.

  Sadhi was as solicitous for Alayna’s comfort as it was possible to be, given the travel conditions. The end of each day left Alayna more fatigued than normal, but she did not want to be the reason for prolonging their journey so much that they arrived after the season had ended.

  At last, they looked down on the Lowlands, over hills that seemed nothing compared to the rugged peaks of the Hellers. In the distance, lakes glimmered, and forests grew so densely they appeared almost black. Yet Alayna detected the scars of war, swathes of charred earth where nothing grew. She had never seen anything like it. Their road led through it, and she quailed at the necessity of riding through such territory.

  As they descended, however, she found that the sight of the blasted land was not so terrible. This damage had been done a generation ago, before the Peace of Allart Hastur put an end to hostilities. New green showed here and there in the blackened fields, and a tilled garden or newly thatched hut testified to the resilience of life.

  If there is hope here, after such destruction, Alayna thought, then there is also hope that our children will live in peace. King Allart had brought about the cessation of the brutal conflict with Ridenow; why not the feud between Scathfell and Aldaran?

  “Look there!” The guard who had been riding at the front pointed aloft and there, against the brightness of the sky, Alayna spotted a long, sleek shape as it dipped toward them and circled low. “An air-car!”

  In the few moments while Alayna watched, the captain dug out the truce-flag and waved it about. The air-car made a final circuit and then sped off in the direction of Thendara.

  Three days from the mountain pass, they reached the outskirts of Lake Hali with its glittering sands and strange, cloud-like waters. At one end, Hali Tower rose like a finger of pale, translucent stone, glowing with a faint blue radiance. Beyond it lay Thendara. Comyn Castle, in the heart of the city, had been raised by a circle of laran workers, and massive, laran-charged generators provided heat and light. At the time, she had not put much faith in the story, but now, as she looked at the glistening white towers, she could believe anything.

  As soon as they approached the castle courtyard, servants and horse grooms rushed to greet them. The air-car, it seemed, had brought news of their imminent arrival, and everything had been made ready for them. Now that they had arrived, she was grateful when Gwynn placed her and Sadhi in the care of the friendly, middle-aged attendant, clearly more than a maid yet less than a lady-in-waiting. She bustled them through an entrance hall that was grander than the Great Hall at Scathfell and brilliantly lit with glowing globes attached to wall and ceiling. They went up one passage and through another, until they reached a suite of rooms that surely must be grand enough for the Hastur king himself but were reserved for Gwynn and Alayna. Glow-globes lit these chambers, and there were excellent fires as well.

  The servant, whose name was Ylethia, got Alayna settled without making her feel the least bit awkward. In the parlor a hot meal had been laid out.

  “Where is my husband?” Alayna asked, thinking that she could not begin without him.

  “Oh, probably finding out that King Allart does not expect him to present himself until tomorrow morning.” Ylethia lifted the cover of the largest serving dish. It was roasted barnfowl, the skin browned and crackling, surrounded by an array of root vegetables. “Your husband’s a considerate man, I’m sure. Wouldn’t want you to faint from hunger, not when the remedy is at hand.” Ylethia picked up a long knife from the tray, carved off a section of breast meat, speared a large serving of vegetables, and set the plate before Alayna. She stepped back, hands on her ample hips. “Eat up now! Eat up!”

  The first bite was so succulent, it almost flowed down Alayna’s throat. She was reaching for her second helping, along with bread and dried fruit, stewed into melting softness and delicately spiced, when Gwynn came in. His hair, slightly damp, had been freshly combed, and his face scrubbed clean. Ylethia curtsied to him and left the two to enjoy their meal.

  “I’m glad to see you settled, and that you did not wait for me,” he said, bending to kiss her. “You must take excellent care of yourself.”

  “As you see, I am doing my best. Is all well with the rest of our party?”

  Gwynn sat down and began helping himself to food. “Everyone’s safely housed, the stables are impeccable, and if these chambers are any indication, we are indeed honored guests.”

  He wasn’t completely convinced, though; she could hear it in his voice.

  “There’s to be an audience tomorrow morning,” he continued, “not just for us but for the other noble folk who have traveled far. Then a ball tomorrow night.”

  Alayna remembered her first ball at Scathfell Castle and could not keep from smiling. Then the smile drained away as she realized Dom Nevin would undoubtedly be here.

  “I expect that the Great Houses will attend,” Gwynn went on, “Alton, Syrtis, Ardais, Aillard, Leynier no doubt. Maybe the upstart Ridenow, for word is that the king has made an effort to bring them into proper society.”

  “Do you know these people?”

  He shook his head. “Only by name and reputation. Since my father’s time, we haven’t had dealings with any but our own—and Aldaran.”

  She sighed inwardly at the obstinacy of men. “You still think them your enemy, even after they sent that beautiful rryl?”

  Somewhat to her surprise, Gwynn said, “You are right to chide me, preciosa, although the habits of a lifetime are not easily set aside. When I am with you, I begin to have hope that our future may be better than our past. I no longer feel alone. The rryl was a thoughtful gesture, and while I do not yet trust Aldaran’s motives, I cannot find fault with a gift that has brought you so much pleasure.”

  “As I have said, it might have been made for my hands. And do not pretend you have not enjoyed the music.”

  “I cannot imagine not liking any music you make.” His fingers closed around hers, warm and firm, and Alayna felt a rush of pleasure. She wished she had brought the harp with her. Perhaps she might be able to borrow one while she was here. The servant, Ylethia, might know whom to ask. Tomorrow.

  They talked for a while longer, mostly of inconsequential matters, and retired. Gwynn fell asleep almost immediately, but Alayna lay awake, trying to adjust to the bed that, while comfortable, was nevertheless strange. She remembered how excited she’d been about traveling to Scathfell with Kyria, never dreaming that she might one day sleep in an even bigger, grander castle. Tomorrow or the next day, as soon as Gwynn’s responsibilities to their host permitted, she would ask him to take her about the city. She fell asleep, drifting on visions of a dizzying array of shops and street merchants, strolling musicians, dancers and acrobats, nonhuman kyrri, all thronging the streets of shimmering white stone.

  23

  Alayna stirred from sleep into near darkness. For a few dizzying moments, she could not think where she was. This was not her bedchamber, nor Gwynn’s, although he lay beside her, snoring lightly. Not her bed, either. Dreams clung to her like mists, dreams of giving birth. I’m awake. I’m in the castle in Thendara. I’m awake.

  With that thought, her eyes focused on the glow globe on the nearest wall. It cast a faint, blue-white illumination across the room. The heaviness in her lower belly was no dream, however.

  Blessed Cassilda, not again.

  Half in dread yet moving stealthily to avoid waking Gwynn, she slipped one hand beneath the lower edg
e of her nightgown and between her legs. No wetness. She sagged back against the pillows in relief. The ache receded. Most likely it was a response to the long day’s travel and to being in a strange place. Whatever it had been, it was over.

  Try as she might, sleep eluded her. Their upcoming appearance at court was fraught with danger. What did they know about the king’s motives and intentions? What if he meant them ill? Two of Gwynn’s best fighting men stood watch outside the door, but they could be overpowered or ensorcelled by the leroni of Hali Tower, sworn to Hastur service. If she woke Gwynn, he would frown, even if he didn’t scold her for womanish vapors. She wished Kyria were here. Kyria would talk sense into her and set her to laughing at her own fears, and the two of them would fall asleep with smiles on their faces.

  The sound of women’s voices and a muted clatter from the parlor caused Alayna to jerk awake. Sunlight filtered through the closed curtains; she’d managed to fall asleep, after all, and she was alone in the bed. At the sound of a tapping on the door, she called, “Who is it?”

  “Sadhi, my lady.” The maid came in and proceeded to draw the curtains. She looked as if she’d been too excited to sleep. “There’s a hot breakfast, if you’ve a mind for it.”

  “What time it is?”

  “Late enough that Mestra Ylethia says you risk being late for the audience with the king. Lord Scathfell’s already gone down.”

  Alayna raked her fingers through her hair, finding it tangled and disorderly. “I don’t think I could eat.”

  “Then take some jaco while I set things in order here.”

  The jaco made Alayna feel homesick for Scathfell, so instead she sipped a little fruit juice and nibbled on toast. Sadhi sat her down on a padded stool and brushed out her hair. The gentle, rhythmic strokes soothed her, and she felt almost cheerful when Sadhi set the brush down. Within a short time, Alayna’s gowns were spread out on the bed.