Fires of Nuala

by Katharine Eliska Kimbriel

  This brisk sensibility reminded Darame briefly of Mona. And what other choice did she have, really? Darame began to contemplate uninterrupted sleep.

  COMPLINE

  “Not The Ragäree’s retreat,” Ayers told them, shaking his head slowly. “Too many people are watching the road between Atare city and her home. To be honest, I am not certain where we should hide. We have gone to Portland once too often.” There was an element of defeat in his voice that Darame could not like. It had spread to his face, drawing lines across his forehead.

  Pulling the fur cloak Avis had loaned her closer around herself, Darame took a few steps down the cobbled floor of the stable. Clever of the Atares to have hidden outlets from their palace; of course Leah would know of them.… But Avis had retired early, pleading fatigue, and since the pregnancy often had her catching up on sleep, no one seemed to think anything of it. Glancing over at Sheel’s sister, Darame saw hard-edged resolution in her face. The rings, Darame thought dully, still too drawn to feel pity. The forgotten rings, neatly pinched from White’s box. Several of them mentioned Leah’s name… Leah’s consent. At least Avis now believed.…

  “Ayers, would it be ridiculous to head south?” Darame asked suddenly. “Surely they would not expect it.” Turning back to the guaard, she waited for response. That he paused before answering gave her hope.

  “If I could think of a destination… even west to the sea! But I think you are right: it must be soon, and might as well be tonight.” He was dressed, as were the other guaard, in civilian clothing.

  Darame turned to Camelle, who was calmly pulling on her gloves. “Are you still determined to come with us?”

  Camelle did not even look up. “Of course. I did not create that ring giving Stephanie watch over my children as an exercise.” She did glance over at Darame and Stephanie as she spoke. “You should go on home now, my dear. Thank you for your offer, but two expecting mothers on my hands might make me a bit nervous — and your husband would be anxious. Leah is irritable enough as it is; we should not add to her paranoia.”

  Nodding at this truth, Stephanie gave Avis another hug. “I will have Stephen with me by this time tomorrow. He gets along well with Ting; they will discuss going backpacking in the spring and such things. No one will think twice about his visit,” she told Avis, gripping her cousin’s arms for emphasis.

  “He will be furious when he finds out I have left without seeing him,” Avis whispered. There was no remorse in her words, only affection. “Bad enough that he has had to share my presence with Brant.” Avis turned to Darame. “Do you think that ruse helped any?”

  “If nothing else, I am sure it weakened Brant’s stand with Leah and Dirk,” Darame said grimly.

  “Good.” Avis flipped her scarf over her shoulder with a certain satisfaction. “I am glad Stephen’s sacrifice was valuable.” She managed a saucy grin. “I will enjoy making it up to him!”

  “You will be leaving me with a raving ambassador, Avis — unkind,” Stephanie told her. “Maybe you should send for him, if you can!”

  Both young women managed chuckles over this, and even Darame smiled. Good spirits would not hurt this trip, not at its beginning. Time enough for clouds of depression to grow —

  A scraping sound seized her attention. “Ayers!” Darame whispered. He was already extinguishing the second lantern, leaving only the usual watch light burning. Darame backed into a vacant stall.

  Muffled hoofbeats reached their ears, moving down the outside corridor and to the hidden lever. Someone pushed against the sliding panel, and cold air swept in from the sudden opening. Dark figures entered.… A black hazelle, its head drooping, and a guaard. The unknown walked like an exhausted man; fortunately the panel moved into place of its own accord. Something about him was familiar.… He slowed, as if sensing them —

  “Crow?” Darame made hardly a sound, but the youth jumped, spinning in her direction, suddenly alert. “It is you!”

  He stared at her for a long moment; Ayers stepped into the circle of light as well. Seeing the other guaard, Crow relaxed and leaned against his beast. “I need to rub this thing down,” he said, indicating the hazelle with a hook of his thumb. “Let us talk over here — “ Seeing Avis and the others behind Ayers, he stopped speaking. Slowly he turned to Darame. “How did you get here so quickly? You must have killed that horse! It took us six days to get that methplane running again — you would make a fine saboteur. I kicked this beast all the way in from the landing field.” Pulling the hazelle into another empty stall, he clipped it to a ring and started removing the saddle. “So why did you leave the meth’?”

  Darame took a deep breath. “Because I could not fly one to save my life! But if you brought us one — “ Catching Ayers’s gaze, she paused.

  “I already investigated that possibility. No meths issued without the captain’s express authorization. It happens occasionally… but I had thought we decided it was better they did not know we were leaving.”

  “It is better — how did you find that cave?” Darame said abruptly, Crow’s words finally striking her. “Sheel — “

  He understood. “We arrived shortly after you left. Fergus’s people had tracked White there. Routed the place; it was quite a show! I was in the second group: Fergus’s followers were a bit over-zealous and did not wait for us to get through the ravine.” He suddenly smiled. “I think that Mailan suspects you of supernatural powers!” Crow’s face hardened as he started working on the hazelle. “At any rate, the Atare is going to be fine. White got away, although he left everything behind him. Fergus’s fellows captured Varden, but we had to kill Teague — he slashed up a few people, badly. We think Sandal was the other one — White’s younger son,” he clarified for Darame, although Ayers was nodding grimly. “He also got away. But at this point I do not think I am supposed to mention it — to any authority, that is. The Atare still wants to handle this without scandal.” Crow shook his head negatively. “How, I do not know. I was sent to bring you and Serae Avis to the new camp. But since we cannot take off again…” He paused.

  “Another hole to be ambushed in?” Darame asked, studying him intently, fighting to keep the joy from her face. Damn it, Sheel, you had better stay alive! I am too old for this kind of excitement.…

  “Fergus said no — it is his regular winter quarters, whatever that means. I have the directions up here,” he added, tapping his skull and returning to the hazelle’s coat. “How much money have you got?”

  “Quite a bit. We were about to flip a coin and choose a direction,” Ayers told him, reaching for a curry brush.

  “South,” Crow announced, working his way down the hazelle’s barrel. “Two days’ worth.”

  “And?” Darame prompted, leaning against a pillar.

  “My uncle has a methplane,” Crow said vaguely, lost in thought. “Fuel is the problem, but I can think of two possible stops heading back northwest. Might take a while, going the long way.…” He looked at Ayers. “It seats ten.” The two men stared at each other for a long time.

  “In good condition?” Ayers sounded as if it was too much to hope for.

  “It was last summer.”

  “Regular cabins heading south,” Darame muttered, furiously making plans once again. “In three separate groups, I think.… Sweet Magdalen, Ayers, what do you think?”

  “I think we should disappear, and quickly,” Camelle said suddenly. “I am good friends with the housekeeper, and she hears all the latest gossip. I understand Leah is planning on going to Avis in a few days, and suggesting a move to a safer location.”

  Darame stared at the woman. “Why — “ she began, and stopped. Because we had already decided to leave. Why mention it? It is perfectly innocent and sisterly.…

  Sure it is.

  “South,” Darame reiterated, reaching to flick the second lantern back on.

  CEDARPOINT, STARRISE MOUNTAINS

  ONEHUNDRED SIXTYTWODAY, VESPERS

  The sky above her was already flicked wit
h stars, but Mailan knew that vespers had scarcely arrived. Deep in the cavern at her back, a handbell was tolling out the change of the watch. Who was taking her place — Haven? That was it.… Sweet Mendülay, lift my exhaustion! How can I work when I can scarcely think?

  “I am here, Mailan. I think you should stay inside with The Atare for awhile.… The priest is asking questions.” Haven’s soft voice was off to her left, and to her extreme embarrassment she had not heard him arrive. “Frost has dinner ready. Eat something hot and get some sleep.” The man’s voice was kind.… At least she did not detect any pity. A guaard too weak to hold up under stress was a pitiful thing.…

  Moving stiffly, silently around a boulder, Mailan entered the cavern. Sheel was sprawled on a low couch which had been placed near the “social” firepit. Forcing herself not to stare, Mailan resolutely strolled to where young Frost was dishing up bowls of stew. Fishing several biscuits from the basket next to the pot of saffra, she accepted Frost’s offer of dinner with as much grace as she could muster. Now if she could just get to the shadows without being noticed.…

  “It is all right to look, Mailan,” came Sheel’s voice. Definitely amused; balancing her bread on the edge of the bowel, Mailan reached for a mug of saffra. Only when she had seated herself at the opposite edge of the firepit did Mailan look up at her Atare.

  “I still do not think that I improve hour by hour,” Sheel went on, tearing a biscuit in half. “But if it comforts you to check.…”

  “Ha,” was all Mailan could think of to say. Joke as he might, it had been too near a thing for the guaard. They numbered about twenty, now, and they took turns sleeping three deep at every entrance to this room. She had worried about picking up so many guaard along the way, but Haven and Crow both felt there was safety in numbers. Four guaard had been sent back to Atare, to start cautiously spreading the word that The Atare was ready to deal with Cort’s murderers.… After tearing apart White’s little camp, there had not been a soul among them unwilling to immediately repeat their oath. How many blood feuds had been sworn out that evening?

  White is mine. She was Sheel’s senior Chosen, now; she was Fion’s favorite of all his students. It is mine to avenge.

  “If you are going to look so fierce while you eat, Mailan, you will have to face the other way. It may not be upsetting your digestion, but it is annoying mine.” Startled, she glanced up at this, and found Sheel’s gaze on her. He wore that penetrating look he sometimes used, when he was dissecting something with his strange eyes.…

  A hand clasped down on Mailan’s shoulder, followed by a body plopping into the furs scattered near the firepit. “I will tinker with her,” said a scratchy voice. “The choler will be squeezed from her in no time.” Warmth trickled out of the hand, creeping through Mailan’s shoulder down her arm and toward her chest, loosening the band which had inhibited deep breathing. Mailan turned to the third of Atare’s healers, the eldest of the healers, the ancient woman Xena. As Capashan tended the coast, so Xena ministered to the highlands. Doctors and health workers the north had in plenty, but there was something comforting about a healer.…

  “Thank you, Mother,” Mailan said respectfully, in the way of the mountains. “Do you have strength to spare for such a little thing?”

  “Not so little, that The Atare’s right hand should be scraped so thin. Fill your stomach, youngling, and then partake of the wine. You are still tired in here,” she added, tapping her smooth temple lightly. “At Cedarpoint there is time for rest.” Grinning, her soft cheeks a mass of wrinkles in the flickering firelight, Xena released the woman’s shoulder. “First we will eat; then we will work on those knots in your back.”

  Mailan decided not to argue. Crow had been gone but a day, and he was the only one who could sooth her frazzled nerves. You take him for granted, Mailan told herself, biting into a buttery biscuit. He has been a loyal friend, and I begin to suspect a faithful lover. What have you given in return? Impatience. Somehow, despite the crisis facing them, she would find a moment to speak with Crow, to tell him… What would she tell him? That time dragged when he was not there, and she had simply been too preoccupied, too worried to see it? How do you tell a man you did not notice him until he was not there?

  As for not noticing… Her gaze traced the faces of others near the fire. Old Xena, with her delicate, wizened features, tiny and wrinkled beyond belief; and Sheel, already looking much better, at least to Mailan’s eyes. Still horribly thin, but now it was more like someone who had exercised past health into obsession. Regular fluids had helped, along with soups, porridge, and now stew. Fortunate that Xena had been only a few hours away.… Even then it had been almost too late for the off-worlder. That one still could not sit up. At least Sheel’s bruises were starting to fade; he still looked shadowed, as if someone had smudged his body with dirt. Dusty and scabbed, although the scabs were starting to fall off, leaving pale pink lines that looked unpleasantly like knife slices, and were something that Sheel would not discuss at all.…

  We owe you a great deal, priest, Mailan thought wryly, afraid to say the words aloud. To turn Fergus’s attention on oneself was not wise; he was apparently one of those who had “spells,” when the dimensions were pulled askew and momentarily the future was now. Guaard avoided him; the immediate future did not look good, and they were in no hurry to meet it. Contenting herself with studying Fergus’s handsome, weathered face, Mailan wondered how old the mock-Sini might be, and what he had been discussing that had upset Haven.

  “Tansy,” Fergus said abruptly, his gaze still lost in the fire. “It is said she was fair, Cort’s consort, fair and sharp as a cat knife. Ambitious, too, which caused her downfall. So the Captain is a descendant of Tansy.…”

  “Did you know her?” Mailan asked, suddenly quite daring.

  Fergus laughed at this, a deep chuckle. “Do I look that old? Add the years of Sleep to Cort Atare, and you have her generation! A bit younger than Cort, but not much. Still a great beauty when he returned from Caesarea with his wife. Tansy lasted several more years at the court before her scheming pulled down her house. Bore him three sons, one of them after Cort returned. That last son had a son had a son… and the last was Dirk. Raised on poison, no doubt. Those boys never heard that Tansy fouled her own nest — only what the old woman chose to tell. The fortunes of their house are based on wealth she amassed while at court!” Still chuckling, Fergus shook his head, his face growing still. Biting into a biscuit, he reached for his familiar mug, rarely far from his side.

  All sinis carried their own utensils.… Finishing the stew, Mailan set the bowel on a stack as it passed and accepted a glass of wine in return. A strange bunch, Fergus and his followers. Their expressed purpose was to move among the populace, decreasing fears about mock-Sinis by their very presence. Their private reasons included spying for The Atare, something Sheel had apparently not been aware of.… Very unofficial, Fergus had said with his wolfish grin. Sometimes I or my own would hear things best dealt with by Cort Atare, and so it reached his ears. Fascinating, that Sinis would choose to help any but their own. Only Atare was really tolerant of their presence, except for very restricted trade. After all, they refined the special metal which had returned Nuala to the ranks of spacefaring people.…

  Settling lengthwise by the fire, Mailan allowed Xena to have her way, submitting to her pounding and rubbing with only a few groans as comment. It was pleasant, the flames throwing heat at her face and Fergus’s husky voice droning on.

  “So part of Dirk’s deeds could be resentment, true. But you must not discount your sister, Atare, however painful it might be. She is your sister, and you do not see her in that light, but I understand how a woman such as she could effect a man. She is a fiery claret, that one, on the edge of full maturity: a woman worth fighting over.…” Fergus’s words were soft, and blended into the muzzy edges of dreams that Mailan did not remember.

  Blazing fragments of fire crystals winked at her as she suddenly started awake. Somewhere bey
ond her dreams were the voices of Fergus and Sheel, but she could only make out a few words. Glancing around the cleared area, Mailan realized that the three of them were alone.

  “So, can such radiation trauma be reversed?” Fergus was saying.

  “I… do not know. It depends on the damage that has occurred. Scarring, or hormonal decrease — injections might counteract some of it. If it had been caught in time…” Sheel whispered.

  “No chance of it, Mindbender. Leah took ship to Caesarea not long after our affair ended. Scarce months past that, my turnover occurred — a swift change. You can see why I suspect my foolishness was to blame.”

  “Leah was no child to be beguiled,” Sheel said sharply, setting his mug down hard to make his point.

  “She was suffering,” Fergus responded, and his voice was very gentle. “She needed comfort. I can be a comforting person… and she knew I adored her. A simple mountain boy… It is said she was always one to flirt with danger, in her youth. Long before my birth; I was a child when she first left the planet. Never did she question the scars on my hands. Could she be so blind, that she did not know amputation when she saw it?”

  “Unfortunate for you that you tend toward scarring,” Sheel said, calmer now… only his fingers restless.

  “I am the only one of five children who became mock-Sini, yet several of my siblings had extra fingers and toes.” Fergus had a distant look on his face. Mailan slowly sat up, trying to absorb what she had heard. “They shall bow to the rising wind of Atare, Mindbender, if you but choose. Can you stop reprisals against my people, once this tale is known?” The priest leaned forward on his elbows, hunching over his folded legs, his expression intent. “Do you want to stop the reprisals?”

  Sheel’s nonverbal reply was obscure, his face almost vulnerable. “So long ago.… And now my sister will be held up as an example for generations yet to be,” he finally murmured. “If blame can be assigned, you have paid your debt twice over.”