Thunderlord

by Marion Zimmer Bradley

  “Chiya, come sit beside me,” Cassandra said, indicating the cushioned chair in a warm, sunny spot. “I’m happy to have the chance to see you again. Yesterday did not fatigue you overly?”

  “Only in the best way, Your Majesty, for I am shortly to endure far worse rigors on the trail than in those few hours in your garden. My husband informs me that snow is already falling in the Hellers. I may not be comfortable riding all day and night, but far better that than being caught dawdling in a blizzard.”

  Cassandra laughed, and Arielle smiled. The elderly lady appeared to be hard of hearing, for she only nodded her head and returned to her knitting.

  “I see that your sense of humor has fully recovered,” the leronis observed.

  “Ah, she speaks her mind, this one,” Cassandra said lightly. “Arielle, you have outdone yourself in restoring not only her body but her wits. This is not the little mouse who arrived at court.”

  “’Tis naught but mountain plain-speaking,” Alayna murmured, lowering her gaze. Yet the queen had the right of it. She was not the same girl who had left Rockraven as her sister’s companion, eager for romance and adventure. Nor was she the young bride, filled with gratitude at not having to marry that odious Nevin, nor the woman who had stared at the towers of Thendara and been overwhelmed by the gorgeousness of the Midsummer Festival ball.

  “But what is the reason for this visit, other than to amuse us?” the queen said.

  “With your permission, I would very much like to invite one of the young ladies of your court to return with us as my companion, and my husband has given the proposal his blessing. Scathfell is remote, it is true, and it may not be possible to find a suitable person in such a short time, but I cannot leave without asking.”

  Cassandra and Arielle exchanged glances. “Deny it as you will, old friend, you are indeed clairvoyant,” the queen said, then turned to Alayna. “Normally, you would be quite correct. Families must be consulted, wardrobes created and packed, and so forth. Not every gently bred young lady is as enthusiastic about a long journey through the mountains as you are, my dear—in any season. But Arielle has just been telling me of a student who, for various reasons that are her secret and not mine, will never be able to work in a matrix circle. She does not wish to return home to an unwanted marriage, but neither can she take the place of someone who does have the talent. And then there is Perdita, our own sweet Perdita, who I fear will never get over her broken heart when she is daily reminded of the fickleness of man’s affections.”

  “And of the woman he transferred them to,” Arielle added.

  Felisanne? Please tell me it wasn’t her. Oh, poor Perdita! Alayna kept her mouth shut and in that moment, it occurred to her that being responsible for a heartbroken young woman—one for whom she already had a measure of sympathy—would be a welcome diversion from her own sorrows. She could do nothing about Gwynn’s moods, but she might be able to do a great deal for Perdita.

  “I cannot release my student without the leave of her family,” Arielle said with a little shake of her head. “It would be one thing to give her over to your charge, Cassandra, and quite another to send her so far away.”

  “Be easy on this matter,” Cassandra replied, brushing her fingertips across the back of Arielle’s wrist. It was an odd gesture, at once remote and intimate. “I doubt even her family will refuse the hospitality of the queen, and I know all too well how difficult it can be to leave a Tower for ordinary life. She will be well with me.”

  Arielle inclined her head.

  “And Perdita?” Alayna asked, now feeling anxious as only one who has been presented with unexpected hope and then seen it taken away can be. “Does she face similar obstacles?”

  “I can answer for her,” Cassandra said, “for I know of no impediment. She has no immediate family, being an orphan. I suspect that her remaining relatives will be relieved to have her placed even more distantly than she is now. She has always been a biddable child, and will go where I ask her, even if she is presently so miserable that she cannot see it is for her own benefit.”

  “I will care for her as if she were my own little sister,” Alayna said.

  “My dear, I cannot doubt the greatness of your heart, and I hope the two of you will come to love one another.”

  The arrangements for Perdita’s travel were quickly made. Ylethia handled obtaining warm, comfortable clothing for Perdita and packing it all up, and Perdita was provided one of Cassandra’s own horses, a shaggy little chestnut gelding who looked as if he were part mountain pony.

  When Alayna came down to the stable yard on the morning of their departure, she found the men readying the horses. Sadhi was already there, and Perdita as well, her face pale and expression so sad, so bereft, that Alayna wanted to weep.

  Perdita curtsied at Alayna’s approach as she would have for Cassandra herself. “Please, we have no need of such ceremony on the trail,” Alayna said. “If we are to be friends—and I hope we shall—then we need not be so formal with one another. Well, not until we arrive at Scathfell. Then you will address me as Lady Scathfell when others are present, and I will call you Damisela Perdita, and we shall have a good laugh when we are alone.”

  Grooms from the castle stables brought up Perdita’s chestnut and Alayna’s bay. One helped Alayna to mount—goodness, had the horse always been so tall? Gwynn and Ruyven approached, along with the king and queen, who were according them the singular honor of seeing them off.

  “Are you ready for the long journey home?” Gwynn said, patting the shoulder of Alayna’s horse.

  “I am indeed,” she replied lightly. “The snow holds no terrors for me.”

  He turned to Perdita. “I have not had the chance to welcome you to our party and to Scathfell. I hope you will be happy with us.”

  “I am sure I will be, my lord,” Perdita murmured. “Thank you for your kindness in offering me a home.”

  “May we meet again next Midsummer Festival!” Allart called, and then they were on their way, clattering out of the stable yard, through the opened gates, and along the cobbled city streets.

  Once past the outer walls of Thendara, Alayna looked ahead to the road as it rose into the Venza Hills. Beyond them lay more hills, and tendays of travel, and steadily rising mountains . . . and home.

  27

  The first few days of travel homeward felt like a holiday outing. Summer still held sway on the Lowlands, rendering the days warm and the nights only cool enough to lend a certain delight to snuggling under the blankets. They found an inn at the end of each day’s travel, where they all had soft beds, good dinners, and hot water. The horses were fresh after their long rest in Thendara, and the roads wide enough that Alayna and Perdita could ride side by side, chatting about the sights, telling stories, and occasionally singing songs. At night, she slept in her husband’s arms, although he did not initiate love-making and appeared not to notice her tentative overtures. Perhaps he feared resumption of intimacy so soon after her ordeal, although Arielle had assured her that was all right.

  Most of the time Gwynn rode ahead with his captain, leaving the women alone except for an occasional inquiry.

  “He must think us very silly,” Perdita said after one such time.

  Alayna thought it more likely that he regarded their conversations as if they had taken place in a solarium or sewing room. Such spaces were not strictly forbidden to men, but it was understood that women required privacy and the company of their own sex. Dom Nevin’s intrusion into the music room had been a breach of manners, to say the least.

  The day was wearing toward dusk, and they had been climbing, slowly but steadily, toward the crest of a line of hills. Beyond, Alayna glimpsed the outlines of distant, mist-shrouded peaks. “What weighty subjects shall we discuss, then?” she asked playfully. “The latest fashion in philosophy? Or the intrigues of the court? We must not descend into gossip, of course, so that leav
es out who has slighted whom, and all the vexations of—” She started to say courtship but held her tongue at the last moment, for that would be cruel, considering Perdita’s recent disappointment. “—well, whatever people are currently vexed about. I’m sure there is a long list of things.”

  Perdita’s gaze remained on the pommel of her saddle. “I know not how I have offended you, unless it be my comment about silliness. I crave your pardon.”

  “You have not offended me,” Alayna replied, shamed by the other woman’s meekness. “If offense has been taken, it is from my own inexperience. I was not brought up in a grand style, you should know. My family were of good lineage but not well off.”

  Perdita turned to gaze at Alayna with wide, astonished eyes.

  “It’s true,” Alayna said. “And my older sister was betrothed to Lord Scathfell. I accompanied her so that she would not be alone and friendless in a strange place. But she—” Remember your promise! “—she died, and then I became Lady Scathfell. I never realized how lonely that would be. I have women servants, to be sure, and ladies of the castle with whom I play music or sew, but not—not a friend.”

  “I did not know. The queen said only that you sought a companion. I did not think it my place to inquire why. I supposed you wanted someone to fetch and carry and perhaps to sing to you when you are weary in spirit.”

  “And so you thought, when I asked you to sing yesterday, that I was judging whether your voice was sufficiently fine? And if it did not please me, it’s a bit late to send you back, don’t you think? Oh, Perdita, you are not a horse whose paces I must approve.”

  They had come to the crest of the hills and paused here to give the horses a rest. Alayna looked ahead, over the woodlands that gave rise to even higher hills and to the mountains she had glimpsed earlier, but Perdita twisted in her saddle to look back along the long slope, the pastures and farms.

  “Lady Scathfell,” Perdita said in a quiet voice, at last turning away from the Lowlands, “I am poor, like you, but unlike you, I have no prospect of a marriage to secure a home for myself. I must earn my bread in whatever honorable way I may. I am grateful for this position, but please, let us not pretend I am anything but your servant.”

  Was it cruel to take her from her home? I will make sure she never regrets having come with me. Alayna resolved that she would persist, trying one amusement after another until Perdita’s spirits were lightened. She did not press the issue now, not with Perdita looking so pensive and gazing back toward Thendara, which now lay far behind even the sight of an eagle. We shall laugh. And make music. Come next Midwinter Festival, we shall dance as well.

  As they passed beyond the settled lands, there were no more inns or even farmhouses. Now well into the outskirts of the Hellers, they camped in tents. The air was thinner here, dusk came swiftly, and snow fell at night. On the second night, they heard howling, but far off. Alayna lay awake, back to back with Gwynn. From the nearby tent, she caught the sound of Perdita whimpering.

  “Gwynn, are you awake?”

  “I am now.” Then came another peal of howling and a muffled shriek. “Are you troubled, preciosa? The wolves are far off. They sounded nearer than they are because of the shape of the hills.”

  “Not I, as long as I am with you. But this must be terrifying for Perdita. I think I must go to comfort her.”

  “I suppose city life has not prepared her for the hazards of these mountains. You must set an example for her. By all means, reassure her.”

  Feeling heartened by Gwynn’s confidence in her, Alayna wrapped herself in her cloak and crawled into the tent Perdita shared with Sadhi. Sadhi was fast asleep, but Perdita had curled herself into a ball, hands over her mouth to keep from crying out.

  “Hush now.” Alayna wrapped her arms around the shivering girl. “There is nothing to fear. It’s only wolves.”

  “W-wolves, my lady? Truly?”

  “Just wolves, not banshees, not this far below the tree line.” Alayna kept her voice down to not awaken Sadhi. She did not add that the worst danger she had faced in the mountains, aside from the threat of freezing, was from a different sort of wolves, the human kind from Sain Erach. Perdita did not need to hear that. “They won’t come into camp, not with so many men and a fire burning. We’re quite safe.”

  “If you’re sure . . .”

  “I am. My husband would never place us at risk . If this journey were truly dangerous, he would have remained in Thendara until next spring.”

  “Don’t think me silly for being afraid, but I have never been outside the city before, except for a summer’s outing with friends, and then no further than Lake Hali. I have spent the better part of my days indoors, most of it in Comyn Castle, and so I am woefully ignorant about life in the mountains.”

  “As I am about life in the city. Surely you must have seen how awkward I was, and how many mistakes I made.”

  Perdita rolled over to face Alayna, who then drew the blankets over both of them. “You were ill for so long, you had no opportunity to form alliances among other women. Everyone is on the lookout for her own advantage—what desirable, unmarried lord she can entice, how close to the queen she is seated, what influential people owe her favors, what rich gifts she receives from her suitors.”

  “How . . .” Alayna searched for the right words. “. . . sad to think only of what advantage one might derive from another, and not the simple joys of friendship. But you never seemed that way to me.” She could not think how to describe Perdita’s quiet modesty in a way that would not seem like the false praises of the court. “Yet the queen seemed to favor you.”

  “I have been fortunate indeed in her patronage.”

  From that time onward, an understanding grew between the two young women. They talked whenever the trail permitted them to ride side by side. Alayna indulged her own inclination to cosset her friend, making sure that Perdita was the first to receive a hot drink when they made camp, and had the best of the beds at each travelers’ shelter where they passed a night.

  At last Alayna knew for certain that she had passed this way before. They were nearing the valley of Scathfell, which led to the castle itself. She remembered riding at Francisco’s side and how he had talked about the farmers and herders living there. He was long gone, as was his family, the wife she would never meet. All she could do was hope he had found a master who deserved his loyalty.

  Alayna had scarcely time to exchange two words with Gwynn upon their arrival at Scathfell Castle. One of the guards had ridden ahead to announce their return, and the main courtyard churned with grooms to look after the animals, servants to unload them, Zefano the coridom watching over it all, and Dimitra and Marianne and a small host of maidservants to attend to the women. Dimitra looked thinner than Alayna remembered, and sallow-skinned.

  Perdita tried to be of help in unpacking Alayna’s clothing, but she was clearly exhausted.

  “Sadhi, take her away before she faints,” Dimitra said, and then to Perdita, “You’re of no use to anyone like this, girl. Eat something, wash off the trail grime, and get some sleep. Her ladyship and I can do very well without you for a single evening.”

  Alayna was perfectly happy to let Dimitra sort out the details. All she herself had to do was to sink into the deliciously warm bath that had been prepared for her, eat the expertly cooked meal that waited for her, allow Dimitra to comb her hair and dress her in her favorite nightgown, and slip between the smooth linex sheets of her own bed. She was yawning by the time her head touched the pillow.

  When she awoke to the brilliance of a shaft of morning sun through a gap in the curtains, she was alone. She reached out to the other side of the bed, but the sheets were cold, the covers undisturbed. The dregs of sleep vanished as she sat up.

  Perhaps Gwynn had left her to her own bed so that she might enjoy an uninterrupted rest after the long journey. Perhaps at dinner, when the day’s work was
done . . .

  Alayna gave Perdita a tour of her favorite rooms in the castle, ending with the solarium. Her usual women companions had gathered there for music and needlework. Her rryl—Kyria’s gift—had been brought out. Alayna introduced them all to Perdita, as she would any noble guest. After they had all chatted for a time, Alayna took up her rryl and played a simple air for Perdita to sing. Perdita had a far better voice than any of the others. They passed a pleasant morning together in the sunlit chamber. Then, seeing that Perdita was ashen with fatigue, Alayna announced her own intention to rest from her long journey. She had intended to spend a quiet few hours after sending Perdita to her own room, but she ended up lying down and then falling asleep.

  Dimitra appeared an hour before dinner time. While she dressed Alayna’s hair with her usual skill, Alayna felt a twinge of pity for her; she had after all been left behind.

  “How have you all been during my absence?” Alayna asked.

  “Thank you for asking, vai domna. There were a few cases of summer fever, but all the patients except one recovered.”

  “Summer fever? I do not know that illness.”

  “It’s also called spotted flux for the rash that comes with it. ’Tis likely one of the newly conscripted soldiers contracted it elsewhere and brought it here. It strikes the old harder than the young, so poor little Shayla was abed for a tenday, itching miserably. Many of us had it as children and cannot get it again. Those of us who were immune, myself included, took turns nursing the sick.”

  That explains why she looks so weary. “How dreadful,” Alayna said. “But you said someone did not recover.”

  “Yes. Old Jerana took a bad case, and it went to her lungs.”

  The old leronis! “I’m sorry to hear it. She was so kind to me when I—the first time—” Alayna stumbled. “She will be missed.”

  “Yes, it is a great loss for us. Do you know if Lord Scathfell will send to a Tower for another laran-trained healer?”