Once he was well away from his old rhan, Rhodry turned melancholy. It was one thing to think of having an entire new life ahead of him; another to leave the old completely behind. Much to his surprise, he realized that he missed his kin far more than he missed the power of rulership. At odd moments of the day he would find himself wondering how his sons fared, and their children, too; he even had the occasional fond thought of Aedda. He took to riding alone to ease his hiraedd, and the elves were willing to leave him alone with his solitude.
One day he borrowed a particularly fine gelding from Calonderiel and rode farther than usual in the simple pleasure of getting to know a new horse. After some hours he came to a little stream that led back to a marshy, spring-fed pond, surrounded with scrubby hazel thickets and some willows. Rhodry dismounted, and as he led his horse to the pond for a drink, he saw a white heron, standing on one leg in the shallows and regarding him with one suspicious round eye. All at once the bird shrieked its harsh cry and flapped off. Rhodry spun around, thinking that someone else had crept up behind him, but he saw no one, not even one of the Wildfolk. Since his horse was elven-trained, he left it to drink without him and walked back into the trees. The golden sunlight of late afternoon came down in shafts, solid with dust; the silence felt just as palpable. Then he saw her standing between two willows and watching him sadly.
Although he knew at once that she wasn’t truly substantial, she wasn’t an illusion, either: a real enough woman but lighter, somehow, than the solid trees around her. Tall and lithe, she was wearing a loose blue dress that left her arms bare and hung in torn dags around her ankles. Her dark blue hair flowed like water over her pale shoulders and curled close to her pale, pale face. When she spoke, he heard her language as Elvish, but it seemed that she wasn’t truly speaking at all.
“You heard me this time.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I’ve been calling and calling, but you didn’t come. You always used to come to me.”
“Please don’t cry. I’m sorry. I couldn’t hear you, that’s all.”
“Ah. That must be because of the old man. He’s a mean old man. I hate him. Why are you staying in his tent?”
“I’ve got to stay somewhere. Do you mean Aderyn?”
“An aderyn? Yes, the owl.”
“No, no, no, he’s a man—Aderyn is just his name.”
She looked so puzzled that he gave up trying to explain.
“Why do you hate him?”
“He lied to me. I knew you weren’t truly gone far away and under the earth. That’s what he said, you know. Far away and under the earth.” She paused, tilting her head to one side in thought. “But it’s taken me so long to find you again. Why?”
“I don’t know.”
She pouted like a child, then laughed, tossing off the mood as she sauntered all sway-hip over to him. Her eyes were the same dark blue as her hair, and they were utterly mindless, like pools of water, glittering and vacant.
“You look so cold.” She was staring at him, studying his face. “You don’t love me anymore, do you? You’ve forgotten.”
Big tears rolled down her cheeks, but rather than falling, they merely vanished. Yet her sobs, the big gulping gasps of a heartsick child, were real enough.
“I’m sorry.” Rhodry felt her grief like a stab to his own heart. “Please, don’t look so sad. I just don’t understand.”
The tears stopped. Again she tilted her head to consider him, then suddenly smiled.
“I know what you’ll remember.” She caught his face between her hands and kissed him on the mouth. “Oh, you’re warmer now, truly. Come lie down with me. I want to hold you just like we used to. Do you remember that? I’ll wager you do. Men seem to like it so much.”
As she ran her hands through his hair, Rhodry did remember it, a slow, sensual kind of pleasure, utterly different than being in a human woman’s arms. Yet as he drew her close, as he kissed her, he remembered something else as well: her lips, bright with his blood in the moonlight. That was only a dream, he told himself, it all meant somewhat else. He took another kiss, then another, tipped her head back and softly kissed her throat. She began to laugh and cling to him, so perfectly happy, so suddenly solid and radiant in her happiness, that he laughed himself in the simple joy of finding her again. When they lay down together, he could think of her as nothing but a woman. Yet when he caressed her, his hands knew the difference in their blind way. Her skin felt more like silk; her flesh, oddly soft, without resistance or muscle. At first he was repelled, but with every kiss they shared, the difference faded. She grew warmer, more solid, heavier in his arms. The tattered dress faded away, too; he never took it off, but suddenly she was naked in his arms. He ran his hand over her breast, then cried out and pulled his hand back. She had no nipple, merely a soft curve of not quite real flesh.
It was her need of him as much as lust that kept him in her arms. When he opened his eyes and saw that she had no navel, either, he drew away. She looked up, her beautiful eyes brimming tears, and she seemed so desolate that he kissed her to keep her from weeping. Once he kissed her, he could no longer stop, though for a long time he was content with kisses alone, while he let himself forget what his hands had discovered. Finally, with a little laugh to mock his shyness, she reached inside his brigga and fondled him. At that he could think of nothing but taking her.
Yet the passion was different, a slow thing, languid, wrapping him round like warm water. It was enough to stay inside her, hardly moving, feeling her arms wrapped tightly around him. She whimpered like an animal, shifting under him, keeping him aroused for what seemed like a blissful eternity until his pleasure built close to pain. When he began to move, he nearly fainted from the agonizing delight, and as he sobbed into her shoulder, she laughed, a crow of triumph. He lay next to her, pulled her into his arms, and panted for breath.
“Shall I show you things like I used to?” she whispered. “Shall we go to the pretty places? Not the dangerous ones, not the ones where she is, but the safe ones in my home country.”
“I don’t understand. Who’s this she?”
“You never did get to meet her, did you?” She frowned, thinking hard at the edge of her capacity. “You said she was a demon.”
“I don’t remember saying any such thing.”
“You did, too! And maybe you were right, because when we went to her country, you went under the ground. So we won’t go there again.”
“Indeed? Well, whatever you want.”
She raised her head and kissed his closed eyelids, then his mouth. He felt as if they were gliding together down a slow stream, felt sunlight, too, warm and strong. When he opened his eyes he found that they were lying in a meadow, with banks and hedges of red roses scattered through the grass. Rhodry sat up and stared around him. A flock of peacocks strutted by, led by three males in display, gleaming like blue-and-purple jewels.
“You always liked it here.” She sat up and began combing out her hair with her fingers.
“It’s beautiful, but where are we?”
“I don’t know. Just a place.” She lay down again and ran her hand down his back. “Do that to me again. It’s been so long, my love.”
“Much too long. Ye gods, I’ve missed you all my life and never known what I was pining for.”
But this time, as the pleasure of their lovemaking faded, so did the meadow. They were lying among the hazel thickets on hard ground where dark shadows stretched out long in the setting sun. Only the smell of roses lingered in her hair.
“It’s getting on toward night,” Rhodry said. “I hate to do it, but I have to leave you.”
“I know. I don’t want the old man to find out, anyway. But come back tomorrow?”
“I will. I promise.”
With a scatter of dead leaves she vanished. Rhodry stood up, only to stagger out of sheer dizziness. Cold sweat streamed down his back as he grabbed at a tree to steady himself. It was a long time before he could summon the strength to walk back to his horse, grazing pa
tiently in the long grass. Yet, exhaustion or no, he knew he would come back to her, and not only for the strange sexuality she offered. It was the marvels. Somehow he’d been stupid enough to forget how she could take him to the Wildlands and show him the marvels there. All during his long ride back to the camp, he was wondering how he could have forgotten her at all. Her warning stayed with him, too: don’t let the old man find out.
Aderyn was gone when he returned to their tent, off somewhere in the main camp. Rhodry sat down, planning on resting for a few minutes, only to fall asleep where he sat. He woke once and had just enough energy to crawl into his blankets. When he woke again, sunlight was filtering through the tent walls, and Gavantar was crouching by the fire and stirring something spicy-smelling in an iron pot.
“Morning,” Rhodry said with a yawn. “Where’s the Wise One?”
“Oh, he took a packhorse and went down to the sea. There’s a variety of red seaweed ripe for harvest—good for stomach troubles, he told me.”
“And you didn’t go with him?”
“I’m going to leave this afternoon. Bronario’s daughter is still a little bit sick. Aderyn wanted me to stay with her this morning, just to make sure the fever doesn’t come back.”
“All right. I’d best eat and get on my way myself. It’s my turn to help lead out the herd.”
“You’re too late for that.” Gavantar sat back on his heels and grinned at him. “It’s nearly noon. I was going to wake you, but Cal said not to bother. You can take a turn tomorrow, he said.”
“Noon? Nearly noon?”
“Just that.” His smile faded. “Rhodry, are you all right? You look pale.”
“Do I? No, I’m fine. I just … I just had the strangest dreams last night, that’s all. Well, I think I’ll ride out and catch up with the herd, anyway. I feel like a cursed fool, sleeping when I should have been riding!”
But of course, instead of guarding the horses, he rode back to the willows and the hazel thickets, and without the slightest remorse over lying to Gavantar, either. She was waiting for him at the streamside, sitting on the ground and running her fingers through her long blue hair. He dismounted some yards away and began to unsaddle his horse.
“You didn’t tell the old man, did you?” she said.
“I didn’t. He’ll be gone for a few days, anyway.”
With a laugh she glinted away like a flash of light from a mirror and reappeared standing next to him.
“Then stay here with me until he gets back.”
“I can’t. I’ve got to go ride with the herd tomorrow. It’s my turn. We have to keep moving the horses around, you see, so they get enough to eat.”
With a puzzled frown she reached up to drape her arms over his shoulders, as light and languid as a bit of cloth. When he kissed her, suddenly he could feel her weight.
“There’s lots of food for your horse right here.”
“True, but we’ve got lots more horses back at camp.”
“You’re one of the elder brothers now. Isn’t that odd.”
“Is it? Why?”
“I don’t understand you people. You change so much.” She pressed herself close to him and kissed him. “Come lie down. Then we’ll go somewhere nice.”
Over the next few weeks, Rhodry grew very sly and very clever about stealing time for his White Lady. He did his share of the alar’s work, spent just enough time with Calonderiel and his other friends to allay any suspicion, and dug up one good excuse after another for his fits of melancholy and long solitary rides. Every now and then he noticed Aderyn studying him, but he always managed to display enough good cheer to put the old man off. Everyone assumed that he was still pining for Jill on the one hand and adjusting to his new life on the other. After all, to go from being the most powerful human being on the western border to just another man of the People—and one without even any horses of his own—was the kind of change that would leave most men brooding. No one suspected the truth, that he was as much in thrall to his White Lady as any Cerrmor brothel lass ever was to her opium pipe.
Yet of course, she was as much in thrall to him. Every time he left her, she begged him to stay, and no matter how much he tried to explain, she could never understand that he needed food and shelter. When he tried offering to take her back to camp with him, she turned furious, screaming at him and clawing his face like a cat. He had so hard a time explaining those scratches to Aderyn that he resolved to stay away from her, but the next time that he had a chance to slip out and ride her way, he took it. She was waiting for him, as sunny and loving as if they’d never fought. Indeed, he had the feeling she’d forgotten all about it.
That day she took him to a place that she called, quite simply, the sea caves. Enormous amethysts, jutting crystals as big as a horse’s head and sparkling with mineral fire, lined those caves, and turquoise water as clear and warm as liquid light filled them. Together they drifted down winding halls through chambers walled with gold where creatures spoke to them in voices sweeter than any harp. At times it seemed to him that they were asking his help, begging him to stay and rid their country of some evil, but he could never quite understand the sense of their words, only its emotional tone. At other times he and his White Lady were left alone to satisfy his desire. When at last the vision faded he was too exhausted to raise his head from the grass at first, but then he became aware of thirst, so urgent it was like a burning in his mouth. He hauled himself up, staggered out up to his knees in the pond, and gulped water until he could hold no more. She came to sit beside him and stroked his sweaty forehead with a pale, cool hand.
“The sun’s in the east,” he said at last. “It must still be morning. But it seemed we were gone a long time.”
“What? I don’t understand.”
“Just time passing, that’s all. It seemed like days, but it couldn’t have been more than a few hours.”
She stared at him, her eyes narrow, her lips a little parted, in utter confusion.
“Well, don’t worry about it, my love. It doesn’t matter.”
Yet, when he reached camp, he found that it did matter. As he rode up, a couple of men came running, asking him where in the hells he’d been for the last two days. He realized, then, just how long he’d been gone—lost in her strange world and without a bite of food or a mouthful of water. He ducked into Aderyn’s tent to find Aderyn, Gavantar, and Calonderiel discussing how many riders they should take to search for him. A crowd of overexcited Wildfolk swarmed and roiled round the tent. At the sight of Rhodry, Calonderiel jumped to his feet and grabbed him by the shoulders while the Wildfolk rushed over to grab his ankles or dance around him in glee.
“By the Dark Sun herself!” Calonderiel said. “I thought you’d fallen down a ravine and gotten yourself killed! You dolt! Riding out alone like that! There’s poisonous snakes out there, you know! You ever do this again, and I’ll break your neck myself!”
Rhodry could only stare openmouthed at him.
“Cal? Gav?” Aderyn’s voice was so cold that Rhodry suddenly realized that the old man knew the truth. “Out.”
Sweeping up the Wildfolk, they went without a word of protest. Sick and shivering, Rhodry knelt by the fire and held his hands over the warmth. Aderyn watched, more troubled than angry.
“I’m sorry,” Rhodry blurted at last.
“Don’t be. It’s mostly my fault, because I should have warned you. I was going to warn you, once I figured out how much I could say. I never dreamt she’d find you this quickly, that’s all. To tell you the absolute truth, I was hoping she’d never find you at all. Stupid, wasn’t I?”
When Rhodry started to feed a few more twigs onto the fire, his hands spasmed and sent the twigs flying. Aderyn got to his knees and laid one hand on the back of Rhodry’s neck. Warmth flowed from his fingers and drove the chattering cold from his veins.
“Where did you meet her?”
“I won’t tell you. You’ll hurt her.”
“That’s not true.”
“You’ll keep us apart.”
“Now that is true.”
Without thinking Rhodry turned and swung at him, an open-handed sweep of an arm intended to knock the old man’s hand away and nothing more, but Aderyn merely swayed back and let him fall spraddled onto the floorcloth. Only then did Rhodry realize just how exhausted he was. He lay doubled over for a long moment, summoning the energy to lift his head up and struggle into a sitting position. Aderyn sat down facing him.
“I’m sorry,” Rhodry whispered. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”
“She’s like a fever, or a poison in the blood, but it’s your mind and soul that’s infected. And truly, you’ve done it to yourself. She can’t help herself or stop what she’s doing, any more than a fire could stop burning your hand if you were stupid enough to stick it into the flames.”
“How did you know?”
“For the past few weeks I thought you had a love affair going and were just too embarrassed to mention the fact. My age seems to take people that way.” Aderyn smiled briefly. “It was obvious you were hiding somewhat, and every now and then I’d see you smiling to yourself like any man will do when he’s been with a woman he fancies. But then you disappeared, and I was worried sick, fearing the worst, and sure enough, you come staggering in here, drained of your very life and pale as a birch tree—all at once I remembered the dream you had. I should have known she was close by. I’ve been much distracted these days, and busy with my apprentice, too, but I should have seen it then.”
“Well, it’s my shame, not yours. You’re not the one who’s been—” The words stuck like thorns in his throat as he finally saw just how unnatural his lust was. “Oh, ye gods, I’m sorry.”
A Time of Exile Page 41