Darkburn Book 4: The Haunt of Ternss by Tayin Machrie - HTML preview

Chapter 15

 

 

Piril looked aghast. “The Lady Gaelera! Where is she? I mean – is she hurt?”

“Least of our worries,” said Leor moodily. He had seen the Lady Gaelera now and then, from a distance: a stiffly over-dressed, unsmiling woman who acted older than her years. For all she was the Post-Regent’s daughter, she was not of interest to him. Her presence here did not concern him nearly so much as did the knowledge he had so recently acquired. Adon! His twin! Identical to him – and worse, conjoined to him! The revelation loomed in his mind like an inner manifestation of that huge, dark, overwhelming cloud.

A cloud that Leor had created, or had allowed his power to create. So he was responsible for any consequences, to himself or anybody else. He tried to clear his head of Adon – no, it was impossible – but none the less he needed to pay attention. A Kelvhan lady’s cart had fallen in a ditch. He tried to recollect his manners.

“I trust the lady has no injury?” he asked.

“It seems not,” answered Bramal. “I suppose she must have been shaken up when the cart went over, but you’d never guess. She gave Theol orders to pull her out as queenly as you like. So he told us we’d better obey. Wouldn’t look good to abandon her, no matter what she was doing here.”

“What was she doing here?” asked Yaret.

The Rider shook his head. “She hasn’t given any explanation. Theol asked but got no answer. I know the Kelvhans like their spies, but they wouldn’t send a High Lady all the way out here to spy on us, now would they?”

“It seems unlikely,” said Ikelder. “I’d better go and pay my respects. Where is she?”

“In the Lady Meya’s second carriage. The only one she thinks is fit for someone of her standing.” Piril made a slight, twitchy movement as Bramal went on. “Will you not give us a hand here first? Or more than a hand?” He was looking at Leor.

“Well, Leor,” said Ikelder, turning to him, “what can you do?”

Leor felt worried. Had he not done harm enough already? He knew that he could easily lift the carriage – for it was not deeply buried, like the iron cart that held the darkburn, which he’d lifted from the northern battlefield. But that feat had not helped anybody in the long run. Did magic ever help anybody in the long run?

Yaret was watching him. “Better do it, Leor,” she said. “It only speeds things up a little. It can’t really change anything.”

“The use of magic always changes things,” said Leor with conviction. “Like the use of any power. It has consequences.” He recalled those bloody rags that once were sheep.

Nevertheless he was conscious that, now that they had seen him here, everybody would expect him to use wizardry to help. The men beside the cart had already paused in their attempts to haul it out and stepped back in anticipation.

So Leor dismounted from Bryddesda and walked slowly over. As he approached he flexed his power with caution, feeling it stir within him, like an echo of the flexing of the Semmuru’s great glittering wings.

O Semmuru, he thought, I wish that the waters of Arac had never given me this magic. I wish that you had never healed me and my twin, never bestowed upon us such long life and ungovernable power.

He knew that he lied.

It seemed to happen easily this time. Leor stretched out his arm, but only for form’s sake, or perhaps to give the witnesses a warning; for before it was extended, he was already conscious of the force that flowed from him at the first instant of his bidding. It made his body tingle. Where did it come from? Up from the earth? Down from the sky? There was no knowing. It was simply there.

Whatever its source, he had to concentrate on focussing it, on pinpointing what he wanted it to do: which was to lift the carriage gently, without damaging it, and to convey it to a flatter piece of ground.

All very simple, after all. But as he performed the task – or rather, watched it be performed, with a sense of wonder – he heard a general intake of breath, and someone even clapped. Leor felt no inclination to bow. All he felt was awe; and fear.

“Nice work,” Ikelder said. “It looks all right. Those Kelvhan carriages are strongly made. Bramal? You and Cavir check it over, while I go and give the Lady Gaelera the good news. Leor, come with me.” He looked at the others. “You too, Yaret; I think another lady’s presence is required.”

“I’m hardly that,” said Yaret.

“But you know Gaelera, don’t you? I expect you do as well, Piril, if in a different capacity. Would you care to come and greet her, or would you rather not?”

“I don’t know if she would recognise me,” said Piril. “Servants’ faces are not memorable. If she does, she may not be best pleased. But there is Jebil too… Yes, I will come.”

As they walked over, Theol greeted them with relief. “Good work, Leor,” he said. “Ikelder, glad to see you. Gaelera might listen to a captain. She won’t heed my advice.”

“What advice have you given her?”

“That we should escort her back to her own army. The only problem being that we don’t know exactly where the Kelvhans are. But she refuses. You try: she’s in that carriage of Lady Meya’s.”

The carriage stood a little apart from the others. As the four of them approached, its door opened and Gaelera stepped out, looking just as stiff and over-dressed as Leor remembered; although the embroidered dress was soiled with mud. It made it seem as if the gold and scarlet silken flowers were dying.

“My Lady,” said Ikelder with a bow to Gaelera, who stood silently regarding them, “we are pleased to tell you that your carriage has now been set upright, and is being checked for any damage. I trust that you yourself have suffered no injury beyond inconvenience?” His tone was formal and courteous.

Although he’s an ungainly man, thought Leor ruefully – just as ungainly as I am myself – Ikelder seems to have learnt more diplomatic manners in his short life than I have in my long one. Why is that? I think I have always regarded myself as someone set apart. Manners were not necessary.

However, he now recalled them sufficiently to bow, and after Ikelder had described how his wizardry had raised the carriage, he said, “My Lady, I’m most happy to have been of service to you.”

“I am most happy also,” said Gaelera, although nobody would have guessed it from her face. A closed book, Leor thought; or rather, a book always open at the same blank page. Or a page covered in some indistinguishable writing, in an alphabet he did not know.

“I trust you have been well-looked after,” said Yaret, who seemed unusually tense.

“I have been looked after. The maidservant Jebil has been attempting to clean my dress,” Gaelera said with calm disinterest. “Not altogether successfully, as you can see.” She spread out her hands in front of the soiled skirts without actually touching the elaborately decorated fabric.

“I can finish that task for you, my lady,” said Piril eagerly.

Gaelera looked at her for several seconds before she answered. “You are another maidservant of the castle, are you not?”

“I was,” said Piril.

“No doubt,” Gaelera said. “However, Jebil has been quite useful in her way. I may adopt her as my servant whilst we travel.”

“I am afraid,” said Yaret, “that is not possible, my Lady, as Jebil is in bond to serve the Lady Meya.”

“Indeed? How singular,” Gaelera said, unruffled. “Then she can serve us both together.”

Leor had the strong feeling that he was missing something. Surely such talk of maidservants, interesting though it might be to the ladies, was of no immediate relevance.

“My lady,” he put in, “be assured that we shall serve you in any way we can, to see your safe return to Kelvha’s train and to your father.” For he assumed that Gaelera’s carriage had become lost beneath the cloud. “No doubt the Kelvhan army is not far away.”

“Oh, about twenty miles by my reckoning,” said Gaelera. She remained standing in that strange posture, with her hands held a little out from her skirts, as carefully posed and unmoving as a wooden doll.

“Twenty miles?” said Leor, puzzled. “How did your driver manage to diverge so far from his route?”

“I told him to,” she said.

“You…”

“I had a mind to join the Riders of the Vonn. Although my father, I believe, intends to meet up with the Lord Huldarion’s army eventually, I could not wait that long. Impatience drove me. I desired to join the Vonn without delay; and to see my good friend Maeneb. She invited me.”

Leor became aware that his mouth had fallen slightly open and he closed it quickly. Ikelder seemed momentarily at a loss. It was Yaret who filled the sudden speculative gap.

“My lady,” she said, “have you eaten? We can arrange for food to be brought from the provision carts. Who else is here with you apart from Jebil? You have a groom and driver, I presume?”

“One man does for both,” Gaelera said. “Woldo, Jebil.” She did not raise her voice, but immediately the awning parted and two people emerged from within: the maid Jebil, who looked even more pale and ill than when Leor had glimpsed her last, and a grinning old man with gnarled fingers, an equally gnarled nose, and several missing teeth.

“This is the driver, my groom Woldo,” Gaelera said. “There is little point in addressing him directly. He is profoundly deaf. He will gratefully eat whatever food may be provided. So will Jebil, will you not, Jebil?”

“Ma’am.” The maid’s reply was barely audible; her shoulders were hunched miserably and her face averted.

“Then go, the pair of you, and eat. You, the other maid: Piril is your name, I think? You may bring me savoury pastries if you have them, no honeyed ones, a little cold salt meat, some figs or preserved apricots, provided they are fully ripe. I am not fussy. I shall wait here.”

“I shall accompany you while you wait, my lady,” said Ikelder gallantly.

“As you wish.” She seemed unmoved. Ikelder motioned to Leor with his head.

“We’ll go and seek supplies,” said Yaret, and she bowed, so that Leor remembered to bow too. They turned away, the maids and groom in tow. The two maids clung together, looking altogether more shocked than seemed called for, in Leor’s opinion, since Gaelera had been perfectly civil, and had not complained of her situation nearly as much as she might.

Meanwhile Yaret spoke to the groom, Woldo, in a loud voice, to which he responded with a gap-toothed smile.

“He’s deaf,” Leor reminded her. She gave him a meaningful look which he did not understand. “What?” he said. “It’s a bit of a surprise to find her here, but I suppose Nerogun’s daughter can do what she likes. She must have followed us on a whim.”

“Leor. Come.” Yaret strode off swiftly and he hurried to keep up, the groom and two girls following. “What do you suggest we do?” she asked him in an undertone.

“Well… Unless we can persuade Gaelera to be escorted back to the Kelvhans, I suppose we’ll have to take her with us. It’s inconvenient,” said Leor with a shrug, “and I don’t suppose Huldarion will be entirely happy; but I don’t see what alternative we have. We certainly can’t leave her alone here, in the middle of nowhere.”

“No, I imagine she is relying upon that,” said Yaret quietly.

“What did you say? I told you, he can’t hear.” She gave him a rap on the elbow. “Oh,” said Leor in sudden belated realisation.

He looked back at Woldo. The man responded with a wide, ragged grin. Possibly he could hear perfectly well – and had orders to report back to Gaelera anything he heard.

Rapidly Leor went over what he had just said: nothing she could take offence at, except possibly the remark about Huldarion not being happy. Would that get reported?

As they walked he cursed his own obtuseness. The maids were saying nothing; they had more sense than he did. Now he held his tongue even when they reached the provision cart and he was questioned by a Rider about what food he wanted. He answered with a shrug.

Yaret selected pastries, figs, and salted lamb; placed them into Piril’s waiting hands, and with a reassuring pat on the arm sent her on her way back to Gaelera. She handed over more salt meat and half a loaf to the waiting groom, who grinned again and nodded.

“And you?” asked the provisioner.

“We have our own supplies,” she said, although Leor would happily have accepted a pastry or two. They left Woldo sitting on a carriage shaft to tear enthusiastically at his bread with his few teeth, and walked back towards their horses to retrieve their packs. Once out of earshot, Yaret spoke.

“Well, Jebil?”

“I don’t know,” said Jebil, her voice low and miserable. “She didn’t say.”

“She seems almost glad,” mused Yaret.

“Yes.”

“She remembered Piril.”

“Yes. You’re right. So she must know.”

“Know what?” asked Leor. Yaret shook her head at him. Then she asked Jebil, “Do you think Maeneb could really have invited her to join the Vonn? It seems unlikely.”

“Gaelera could have made her give an invitation,” said Jebil drearily. “It doesn’t really matter if it happened or not. She does what she wants.”

“I wonder what she wants with us,” said Yaret.

Did it matter? thought Leor. Gaelera was nosy and inquisitive, no doubt, like many women; and had sufficient power to exercise her curiosity.

Certainly it appeared that Gaelera would have her way, whatever her purpose was. For once they had returned to her, she announced in stately tones which seemed to leave no room for argument that she would go with the train of carts and join the Vonn.

“For now I have two maids to dance attendance on me,” she said, with the surprising flicker of a smile. “My father cannot argue on that count. But you, master wizard and Captain Ikelder, will kindly ride north-east to find the Kelvhan army, and there inform my father the Post-Regent of my intention.”

Ikelder and Leor looked at each other. Ikelder bowed. Leor said,

“My Lady Gaelera, perhaps it would be wiser if you–”

“It would undoubtedly be wiser for you, my master wizard, not to question my decision,” said Gaelera.

Although she spoke without visible anger, or indeed without any expression at all, Leor felt himself shrivelling. Her loftiness seemed to tell him that he was no mighty wizard, no special being at all, just one ordinary man endowed by chance with long life and burdened with a power he had never learnt to use effectively – far less to understand. Feeling humbled, he bowed and walked away beside Ikelder.

“Huldarion won’t care for this,” Ikelder said once they were out of earshot, “but I believe we have no choice. We’d better find her father. Our horses are still fresh enough.”

“Let’s hope the Kelvhans are no more than twenty miles away,” responded Leor glumly, “and that we don’t spend a week wandering around this wilderness trying to find them.”

Ikelder glanced at him. “You must have travelled through these parts before?”

“Yes. But not for a century or two. It was quite different then: it was wooded, it had orchards, fruit groves; trees laden with almonds and apricots, as I remember. Also a bitter oily fruit that was much prized.”

“By whom? The people who lived in those roundhouses?”

Leor shook his head. “They were already abandoned. The people I knew built wooden houses – that was in the days when there were trees.”

“Maybe they depleted their own woodlands,” suggested Ikelder.

“Possibly,” said Leor shortly. He remembered those people well: for they were the predecessors of the stonemen. But he did not wish to speak of stonemen to Ikelder, especially in conjunction with trees, for the memory of the skeln trees that he had found for them was a sharp needle of reproach. Although they’d been a harmless people in those days, they had changed since for the worse; just as these lands had changed.

And did the modern, dangerous variety of stonemen lurk in those now barren hills? The thought troubled Leor as he and Ikelder set off north-east. Could this mission be in truth some unlikely secret ambush set up by Adon?

Reason quickly reasserted itself. His consciousness was full of Adon at the moment, but he tried hard to dismiss thoughts of his twin. Indeed, the very word twin was hateful to him. He scanned the landscape that they cantered through, trying to concentrate on that alone.

Ikelder did not stop to talk. He was a skilled horseman on a fast horse: Bryddesda needed to lengthen his stride to keep up, but did not seem to mind the effort as much as Leor did. They galloped through a narrow pass between the scree-striped peaks. On its far side, at last, was human life: a scattering of tiny villages came into view. Built of muddy sun-dried brick, they were surrounded by brown sheep and some long-necked, sulky-looking animals to which Leor could not put a name.

“I see they keep corarda. A few were imported from the southlands years ago; it’s interesting to see they thrive. Good fur but bad-tempered,” commented Ikelder, so that Leor felt ashamed. How was it that this Rider who was less than thirty knew so much more than Leor did at over twenty times his age? And when they passed beneath an untidy grove of the bitter-fruit tree that Leor had remembered, he was disgruntled that no name for it came to his mind. He must have known it once. Or had he? How was it he had lived so long and learned so little?

“Ah, there they are,” Ikelder said, and he pointed to the long, long line of carts and horses creeping slowly from the north. So much more numerous than the Vonn, thought Leor with a small lurch of misgiving.

As they galloped closer, a squad of guards swerved out of the Kelvhan line to ride towards them. Ikelder slowed and raised an empty hand in greeting.

“Captain Ikelder of the Vonn, and the Wizard Leor, chief counsellor to the Lord Huldarion,” he said, with an assurance that made the horsemen dip their heads respectfully. “We pay our respects to High Prince Faldron, long may he reign; and we have an urgent message for the Arch-Lord Nerogun.”

“Come this way, sir.”

They were taken first to Faldron, who rode at the head of the train in a gleaming outfit that Leor realised was not golden chain-mail armour as it at first appeared, but a cleverly sewn fabric imitation. All the same it must have weighed many pounds in metallic thread, he judged; and for what – other than to impress his underlings? Of course, in Kelvha that was an essential duty of the monarch.

Those accompanying the prince – the Arch-Lord Marshal Shargun and various other dignitaries – were almost as richly ornamented. But not quite. And one grizzled commander wore no gold thread at all.

“Your Highness,” said Ikelder, bowing. “My Lord Marshal. Commander Jeveran. Our salutations to you.”

“Well, master wizard,” said Faldron to Leor, ignoring Ikelder entirely. Leor was not sure how he felt about that. But he drew back his shoulders and tried to look as majestically knowledgeable as a master wizard should. “How fares it with your army?” the prince continued. “Have you changed your mind about your strange choice of route, and decided to come across and join us?” He seemed to be in high good humour. He glanced around with a smile, and several of his men laughed dutifully.

“At present, no, Sire,” said Leor. “We are delighted to see you so well and active”– here he cursed himself, for he made it sound as if he had expected to find an invalid. He hurried on. “Our chief business here, however, is with the Lord Nerogun. Is he close by?”

Faldron raised an eyebrow. “Nerogun? He has not informed me of any business he may have with you.”

“He does not know it yet,” said Leor.

“How so?”

Leor did not know how much he should divulge to the Prince, and he dared not look at Ikelder for guidance. But Faldron was the master of the Post-Regent in name if not in practice. So he said, “It concerns his daughter, the Lady Gaelera.”

“Gaelera? What has she to do with anything?”

“She was riding in her carriage with your army, sire, and in the fog she became separated from your train. Some of our Riders happened upon her when, um.” Leor stopped at the verge of indiscretion, before he could describe how she had ended up in a ditch.

“Riding with us? I had no idea. What an extraordinary thing to do,” said Faldron. “If the ladies of the Castle wish to watch the entertainment of a battle I believe they generally follow the train some way behind.”

“And not until the battle’s all but won,” said Commander Jeveran gravely.

But Shargun let out a sharp cackle of laughter, his beard wagging. “Well, she’s pulled the hood over her father’s eyes and no mistake! Gaelera, eh? I don’t think Nerogun knew that she was here.”

“He should keep her under better control,” said Faldron.

“He certainly should,” said Shargun with some glee. “Let me find him for you, master wizard. Come with me.”

Faldron gave a dismissive wave of assent; and Shargun, spurring his horse so viciously that it all but bolted, galloped down the long train, hooting, “Nerogun! Where are you, man? You’re wanted.”

Leor and Ikelder followed. There was no answer to the shouts until they reached the middle of the line – a section, Leor thought, that was thickly buffered from any possible attack. A well-sprung carriage trundled comfortably behind four glossy chestnut horses: and the heavily-jowled face of the Post-Regent Nerogun poked out from it to glower.

“What is it?”

“Time to wake up,” said Shargun with ill-concealed eagerness. “Some news for you.”

“My Lord Post-Regent, greetings,” said Ikelder, and saluted. Leor did likewise, very aware of the squad of soldiers that had followed him, and of Nerogun’s suspicious frown.

“Captain. This is an unexpected visit. Is there some trouble in the Vonnish line?” Nerogun asked. “Do you require our help?”

Shargun let out another cackle. “Just wait till you hear,” he said.

“Indeed, my Lord Post-Regent,” Ikelder answered formally, “after considering the news we bring, you may wish to send some of your men to accompany us. Our army is very shortly to be honoured by the gracious presence of the Lady Gaelera, whose carriage unfortunately became detached from the Kelvhan train in the dense fog-bank that fell upon those hills, and found itself temporarily lodged in a ditch. Luckily, the hindmost Riders in our train happened on the scene and undertook to set her carriage upright. I am glad to inform your lordship that the Lady Gaelera is unharmed, and remains as serene as her ladyship is ever. However, her conveyance back to your protection might be best managed by your own troops.”

Leor had glad that Ikelder was the one to undertake the explanation. He himself could not have managed it so smoothly; Ikelder must have been rehearsing as they rode.

But Nerogun appeared dumbfounded. So speechless was he that Ikelder, after a few seconds, continued to to talk until the Post-Regent could recover his composure. Meanwhile Shargun looked on with a grin.

“The Lady Gaelera was, of course, not alone,” Ikelder said, “being accompanied by her driver. She has expressed her wish to continue to travel with the Vonnish army, until such time as she returns to you, and is resolute in setting out with us to join the main body of the Riders. Such a gracious addition to our party is an honour indeed, and I am sure the Lady Meya and our other gentlewomen will welcome her with all due courtesies. We have already appointed two maidservants to wait upon her, until you send for her.” He bowed his head, awaiting Nerogun’s reply.

Still the disconcerted Post-Regent did not answer. Lord Shargun let out a sharp, brief bark of laughter.

“Didn’t know she was there, did, you, eh, Nerogun? My word! She kept herself well hidden, didn’t she! The things women will get up to, if you let ’em. Mad as monkeys. Always curious, always wanting to pry.” His grey beard wagged in a grimace of amusement.

Leor tried not to show his distaste for the Arch-Lord. An inner voice reminded him that he himself had lately expressed a similar thought about women’s curiosity; but at least he had kept it in his head. Coming from Shargun it sounded outrageously unjust.

Nerogun seemed to gather his wits at last. Reshaping his frown into a smile, he answered,

“Indeed, my daughter’s inquisitive nature has led her a little astray on this occasion. I am glad the Vonn were able to come to her assistance. And, of course, that she’s unhurt.” It occurred to Leor that he did not sound especially glad of the last fact. “Her driver is at fault,” continued Nerogun, recovering his usual manner, “and I shall see to it that the man is duly punished.”

“Although the Lady Gaelera was wishful to visit the Vonnish army,” said Ikelder, “and we can naturally accompany her back to you at her command, you may of course, my Lord, prefer to send your own detachment to us.”

At this Nerogun looked from side to side. He does not know how to answer, thought Leor: what if he sends a detachment to bring her back, and she refuses?

“Leave her where she is,” advised Shargun with a snigger. “Do you think Gaelera will adopt the Vonnish ladies’ habit of wearing breeches, hey? The Vonn don’t seem to mind the encumbrance of women in the train.”

Nerogun, ignoring the Arch-Lord Marshal, responded with slow dignity.

“A detachment will be sent for her. You travel by the Red Roads?”

“That is the plan, my lord,” Ikelder answered. “As you know, we are aiming for the Place of Terns.”

“A strange choice of destination. I hope Huldarion knows what he is doing. I shall allot a company to follow you and the Lady Gaelera. But our main army need not change its course.”

“I should hope not,” said Shargun. By the faint narrowing of Nerogun’s eyes, Leor suspected that the Post-Regent would like to fling his fellow Arch-Lord bodily from his horse if he were able.

“In the meantime, I am grateful for your hospitality towards my daughter,” said Nerogun, from an almost closed mouth.

“We shall endeavour to fulfil her every wish,” Ikelder said.

“For stars’ sake, don’t do that,” cried Shargun with another abrupt cackle. “Be no end of it. My word, Nerogun, I’m glad I never wed the wench!”

Nerogun’s face froze. He nodded stiffly to Leor and Ikelder in a signal of dismissal. As they wheeled their horses round to leave, he swung towards Shargun with a growing snarl of fury. But Shargun had already turned away to trot back up the line.

Leor rode behind Ikelder past the long ranks of watching troops, who looked most impressive in their decorative gear. He felt very aware of Bryddesda’s ugliness and lack of adornment.

“They might have offered us refreshment,” he muttered.

“Wait,” Ikelder said. The two men cantered on in silence until the Kelvhan line was two hundred yards behind them.

Only then did Ikelder turn to Leor with a rueful smile. “Never talk about anyone while they’re still close enough to lip-read. That’s something Huldarion taught me. Do you think Nerogun really didn’t know that Gaelera was travelling with his army?”

“He certainly hadn’t realised she was missing,” said Leor.

“I’m guessing nobody knew that she was there at all, apart perhaps from a driver or two that she must have paid off. She kept herself well hidden, I dare say.”

“But why?” asked Leor in bafflement.

Ikelder shrugged. “Because if her father knew, he wouldn’t have allowed her.”

“And she does what she wants,” said Leor, echoing Piril’s words. Then he thought about Nerogun’s stunned reaction. Maybe he cared more deeply for his daughter’s safety than was evident.

But it was odd. Nerogun had not immediately demanded that Gaelera be returned. Instead, the Post-Regent’s heavy face had shown a number of emotions. Gladness at his only daughter’s safety had not been one of them. Rather, they had been a mixture of understandable confusion; shock; dismay…

… and, strangely, fear.