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

Chapter 16

“No clues,” murmured Yaret. “She’s all but mute. On the way back here I did try several times to talk with her – but it was no use. No explanation as to why she drove out with the Kelvhan army. Nor why she decided to come and join the Vonn. Though I must say, she looked quite complacent.”

Maeneb groaned and covered her face with her hand. “Could you not just take her straight back to the Kelvhans and her father?”

“We offered. She declined. This act of hers was planned. Gaelera didn’t get lost underneath the cloudbank; she was too far off course for that. The question is: why? Maeneb,” said Yaret gently, “you might be the one best placed to know the answer.”

Maeneb withdrew her hand from her face. It felt odd even to clasp her own skin in that way, so averse was she to human touch. Ought she to know the answer? She didn’t – yet she had an insidious, worrying feeling that Gaelera’s arrival had something to do with her.

“She said that you’d invited her,” Yaret continued. “I’m guessing that you didn’t.”

“Stars, no! Of course I didn’t!” exclaimed Maeneb, appalled. “Do you think she’s telling Huldarion that now?”

They both looked over to where Huldarion and Meya were in conversation with the Lady Gaelera. The other two were doing the talking, while Gaelera held her head on one side and occasionally deigned to give the briefest answer.

She forced their hand, thought Maeneb: the Vonn had to offer her a warm welcome. But she sensed faint annoyance in Huldarion, whose appearance was even stiffer than usual; while Meya, for all her polite attitude, transmitted to Maeneb’s senses a definite aura of alarm.

And she herself would be obliged to greet Gaelera shortly. How should she do it? What should she say? For Gaelera, odd as she was, had offered her some form of friendship, and it would have to be acknowledged.

Indeed, Gaelera shared her most oppressive secret. She was the only person in the world who knew the facts about the murder of the young lord Daravun, who had assailed Maeneb in the Kelvhan market and had been knifed for his discourtesy. Maeneb shuddered when she remembered how she had confessed the killing to Gaelera. But she had not known where else to seek help.

And Gaelera had helped. She must have done something, because the fuss around the murder had very soon died down. This despite the fact that the dead man, Gaelera had calmly told her, was a relative of her father Nerogun... An unfortunate choice of victim.

But regardless of who his family might be, the murdered man himself had gradually become significant to Maeneb. He had been nobody to her; yet in the last few days he’d taken on a vividness beyond reality. Several times she thought she’d glimpsed him in the train, although none of the Riders looked anything like that elegantly dressed young lordling with his arrogant, entitled air.

None the less, the red-gold beard, the careful yellow curls, seemed to glint in every unexpected spot: in the sun gleaming on the carriage-shafts, or on the glitter of a sword-hilt, or a windblown strand of hair. The dead man was her secret, yet strangely ever-present. And not her secret only, but Gaelera’s.

“She knows about Janeya,” Yaret said quietly.

“What? Oh, stars. Of course she does. No wonder Lady Meya’s so horrified.”

“Is she? It doesn’t show. But I think Gaelera must intend to keep that knowledge to herself,” said Yaret reflectively, “or she would have said something already.”

“She’ll be thinking about how she can use it,” said Maeneb darkly. She thought: Just like she’ll be considering how to use her knowledge of Daravun’s death by fruit knife. Weighing up the possibilities of blackmail. Gaelera is a collector of secrets. But to what end?

“Here she comes,” said Yaret.

Maeneb steeled herself as Gaelera approached. How inappropriate her dress is, she thought, how rich, inflexible and starched, no less than the woman caged inside it: how blank her expression.

Although… was that a hint of a smile as she walked up to Maeneb? If a smile of the mouth only. Maeneb could detect no corresponding emotion in Gaelera’s mind. And then, most disconcertingly, the other woman put out her hand.

Maeneb had to respond. She did not clasp Gaelera’s fingers but merely brushed them with her own. Luckily Gaelera seemed satisfied with that minimal mode of greeting.

“My Lady Maeneb,” she said with slow deliberation, “it is a pleasure to see you. Greater I believe than it is for the Lady Meya to see me.”

“I am sure… that the Lady Meya is delighted to see you.” It was odd to meet Gaelera in these wild surroundings: for in Maeneb’s mind she was always sitting on her window-seat within her castle tower, more walls looking in behind her through the diamond-latticed glass, her sewing in her hand. Her cupboards full of her embroidered life, their doors firmly shut.

“And I am sure that she is not. No matter. Here I am.” And she smoothed down her skirts without touching them, in a gesture that had become familiar to Maeneb.

“I’ll leave you to it,” said Yaret, and she escaped. Gaelera’s cool gaze followed her.

“A strange woman,” she remarked. “A foreigner to me in more ways than one. I do not understand her.”

“Why should you?” asked Maeneb.

“Why, indeed. Let me consider.” Gaelera put her head a little on one side. An affected gesture, thought Maeneb. “Such understanding might make me a better person.” After surveying Maeneb for an expectant moment, she smiled again, faintly. “I am glad you did not say I am already a good person. Indeed, you know that I am not.”

“Do I? It all depends on how you define good,” said Maeneb, somewhat aghast at this over-frank conversation, and at her own boldness in replying.

“To be sure. I am good in that I am effective, in my own way. And though you are not pleased to see me now, I hope that you may be, in time to come.”

“Why?” said Maeneb, belligerently. Too bold, too bold, she thought. Calm down.

“Ah, well… Someone ought to feel pleased to see me,” said Gaelera, “and it might as well be you. My little parlour-maid in the castle; I believe that she was generally pleased to see me. Certainly she was sad to see me leave. Possibly that was fear of being left alone. But in spite of her entreaties I would not bring her with me. She would not have known what to do outside those city walls. And in any case I have acquired a maid: in fact, I now have two.”

Maeneb swallowed. “Piril…?” The girl was a dozen yards away, scrubbing down the awning of Gaelera’s muddy cart.

“And Jebil. They both know the ways of the castle. Although it was something of a surprise to find them here, after short reflection I decided the surprise was not so great. And they will be of use. Please call Piril here for me, for I myself have no loud voice. I do not shout.”

“Piril!” called Maeneb, aware of how loud, how harsh, her own shout was. At once the girl put down her brush and bucket and walked over to bob in a gesture that was half bow, half curtsey. “Don’t do that,” said Maeneb curtly, annoyed not at the half-bow’s clumsiness, but because such a gesture was not required by her at all, even if it was expected by Gaelera.

“Ma’am,” said Piril. She was fearful, Maeneb knew, although she hid it fairly well.

“Is Jebil still indisposed?” Gaelera asked her.

“Yes, ma’am. She does not travel easily.” Piril did not lower her eyes beneath Gaelera’s gaze; but neither did she quite look her in the face.

“Let her remain in the Lady Meya’s carriage, then, for now. I have discussed her case with the Lady Meya, who agrees with me that the girl should stay out of the way. It will save embarrassment all round – if the girl is sick, that is.” As Gaelera spoke Maeneb sensed some faint emotion in her: satisfaction, maybe. It was hard to tell. Gaelera generally cloaked her feelings so successfully that Maeneb was unused to sensing any emotion of hers at all. So it must be strong indeed to be detectable.

“Ma’am,” said Piril woodenly.

“Your attendance on me will be sufficient for my daily needs. And at night you may sleep within my carriage. You worked in the castle for many years, did you not?”

“Ten years, ma’am.”

“And for how many of those ten were you the Lady Janeya’s maid?”

“Three years,” said Piril, her voice very low. Gaelera is playing with her, Maeneb thought, like a cat with a mouse.

Yet the aura of faint satisfaction seemed to have dissolved; and Gaelera did not pursue the subject of Janeya any further. “You understand the cleaning of fine clothes?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am. I worked in the laundries when I first arrived at Kelvha Castle.”

“And your brother was, I understand, employed within the castle stables.”

At this, Piril did look at her fully, with a wary and unhappy face. “Yes, my lady.”

“I say was advisedly. A tragic end for one so young,” announced Gaelera, now with no detectable emotion. “Do you know why he attempted to assassinate my father, the Lord Nerogun?”

Piril swallowed.

“My lady,” said Maeneb in protest. She felt that this was an entirely unsuitable conversation, yet did not know how to stop it. Gaelera ignored her.

“I am not aware… that he really meant to do so, ma’am,” said Piril eventually.

Gaelera nodded, gazing somewhere past Piril. “It had all the appearance of an assassination attempt, if a poor one,” she said meditatively. “It is true, however, that it was not your brother’s own idea. Shortly before he undertook it, he received a letter.”

“Ma’am?”

“The letter bore my father’s seal. That is not to say, of course, that my father must have sent it. Seals can be replicated. Although such replication would be extremely dangerous if discovered.” Gaelera withdrew her gaze from whatever distant view had held it, and went on more briskly. “I have my own means of acquiring information, you understand.”

Piril’s mouth opened and closed. She did not speak.

Maeneb, wholly unnerved at this turn in the talk, managed to put in a diversion. “My lady, we shall soon be moving off again. I understand the Lord Huldarion hopes the army can progress a few miles further before nightfall. Therefore allow me to help you up into your carriage.”

“How gallant of you,” said Gaelera. “However, I require no help in that respect. It is possible that I will require a little company later, if I may call on you for that.” It did not sound like a request, but a command.

“Piril,” said Maeneb, “you may go and…” She racked her brains. “Go and attend to Jebil. Or Lady Meya. I am sure she will have tasks for you.”

“But come back here before we leave,” Gaelera bid her. Piril bobbed again and hastily departed.

I am treating Piril as a servant, Maeneb thought, no less than Gaelera does. I need to stop. I must not let Gaelera and her Kelvhan manners influence me.

None the less, when the army eventually set off, and Maeneb, on horseback, watched the foremost carts crawl away – so painfully slow, it seemed, that it would be ten minutes before the movement reached her and allowed her the relief of riding on – she felt obliged to stay in her place alongside Gaelera. Her horse Shoda stamped restlessly beside the carriage, where Gaelera sat at the front, behind her ancient driver.

“You may entertain me,” Gaelera said. Maeneb did not answer. She had no idea what sort of thing might entertain Gaelera. In suggesting such a notion, Gaelera was surely already entertaining herself. With relief she saw Woldo shake the reins; the carriage-horses picked up their hooves, and she was finally able to ride forward.

“I would drive my own carriage, for I am fully capable,” Gaelera said to her, over the trundling of the wheels, “but this way I can watch the landscape, not the road.”

Maeneb made no reply.

“You may ask me,” said Gaelera, “if I have seen much of the world.”

Still Maeneb said nothing. She vowed inwardly that she would not be bidden in that way.

Gaelera cocked her head at her. “Ask,” she said.

“I beg your pardon. My lady, have you seen much of the world?”

“Very little,” said Gaelera. Another pause. “You may ask me if I like what I have seen.”

“My lady, do you like what – oh, for stars’ sake,” said Maeneb, “just tell me what you want to. If you please, I mean. I am no good at this sort of polite conversing. I never know what I should say.” Again she was amazed at her own bluntness.

But Gaelera did not seem to mind. She nodded thoughtfully. “I am the same. Those ruins once were peasants’ houses, I presume?”

“Those low round walls? I presume so too,” said Maeneb.

“What a strange, uncomfortable life they must have led,” Gaelera mused.

“I don’t think so,” said Maeneb. “Better than tents.”

“And yet your tents appeared quite large and airy.”

Maeneb frowned. “When have you seen our tents?” For they had all been packed before Gaelera had arrived.

“Outside Kelvha City.”

“Hmph.” For a moment Maeneb had feared Gaelera had been spying on Olbeth’s farm. Although there was no earthly reason why she should… Yet Gaelera was, she felt, an assiduous gatherer of useful facts.

Divert her, then. With useless facts that were no secrets.

“We exiled members of the Vonn have lived mainly in those tents for the last dozen years,” she said, “in various places; although some have also made their homes in Outer Kelvha, in farms and villages, the better to work or raise their families.”

“But it was not, presumably, your ancestors who once lived in these round houses.”

“The Vonn? Of course not.”

“But you do not know who did.”

Was that a note of contempt in Gaelera’s voice? Stung to answer, Maeneb retorted, “I know that stonemen, or an early version of them, used to live in the place where we are going, along the Red Roads. That’s why Huldarion chose this route: to see if the area still holds a stoneman settlement, at the Place of Terns. If so, we may find roads leading to the stonemen’s other centres.”

“I have never seen a stoneman,” said Gaelera thoughtfully.

“You should hope you never do.”

“On the contrary, I hope I do. You will prevent me from being slain.”

Was she joking? “If the stoneman army decide to attack us, it will take more than me to stop you being slain,” said Maeneb curtly.

“Are they likely to attack us?”

“No.”

“Then the observation is superfluous.”

Maeneb rolled her eyes at the horizon and grimly urged her horse onward. Thankfully, Gaelera seemed to have exhausted her need for entertaining talk; instead she stared around at her surroundings. Once she called to Piril, who sat within the carriage, to bring her out a pastry, and then again to take away the plate. Her driver sat grinning wordlessly throughout the journey.

After an hour the army halted for the evening, having progressed another five or six miles. Maeneb gazed back the way that they had come, hoping for some glimpse of a Kelvhan regiment galloping up to rescue her from Gaelera’s presence.

None there, of course. That was too much to hope for. She saw only Leor and Ikelder, cantering swiftly to catch up with the army. The two rode over to Huldarion and his counsellors: she watched them speak, and saw Ikelder shake his head.

What did that mean? Evidently that no Kelvhans were being sent for Gaelera – for tonight at least. She turned and saw that Gaelera was looking the same way.

“Perhaps your father will dispatch his troops to fetch you back tomorrow,” she suggested.

“If he does, I shall not go,” Gaelera answered calmly. She turned to speak into the interior of her carriage. “Piril? You may set out my supper, and make up my bed. No, wait. Where do you sleep, Maeneb?”

“I generally sleep in a tent with several of the other women,” she answered warily.

“I have a mind to experience a tent. Tonight I shall join you.”

Maeneb shrank from the idea. “The others will have to agree,” she warned.

“Then you can make sure that they do.”

How can I deny her, thought Maeneb wretchedly, when she is practically Kelvhan royalty? With reluctance she walked over and said as much to Delgeb, who shrugged.

“If a night inside a tent is what she wants, she’s welcome. So long as she doesn’t expect any luxury, and doesn’t mind the snoring. One night will probably be plenty for her.”

If Delgeb did not protest, the other women were unlikely to. Nonetheless Maeneb sounded them all out in the hope of winning a refusal. Hilbré, however, merely said, “I suppose Huldarion would tell us to humour her,” and Durba nodded her agreement. Parba and Bredla did not complain either; so there was only Yaret left to ask.

Maeneb had to hunt for her. It was already dusk by the time she found Yaret and Rothir just outside the camp, standing side by side as they gazed up at the darkening sky. Was this a romantic tryst? She approached the couple cautiously. But it turned out that they were merely comparing notes on stars; so no romance there after all.

“That group of four we call the window,” Yaret was saying.

“That rectangle of bright stars? But that’s the Shield, and around it is the Shieldholder,” said Rothir. “I thought those terms were universal.”

“Well, we know that name also. And the dragon and the cauldron. But they are Standard names, not Bandiran. So the dragon we call the River.”

“A small river,” commented Rothir.

“Well, everything in Obandiro is small. Our biggest river is the Dondel brook. Such a sad thin moon there is this evening! I hope it shines a little brighter on Veron.”

“The moon shines the same everywhere,” said Maeneb as she came up to them. “Yaret, you don’t want Gaelera to join us in our tent tonight, do you? It will become very crushed.”

Yaret looked at her. “She has asked to, I presume.”

“But only if everyone agrees.”

“If everyone else agrees, then I agree,” said Yaret. She was smiling. “It can do no harm.”

“Except to our sleep,” muttered Maeneb.

But Yaret had already turned to gaze up at the sky again, saying to Rothir, “The River in your parlance is, I know, the whole long sweep of stars that we call the White Roads.”

“White Roads above, Red Roads below,” said Rothir. “It has a pleasing symmetry.”

“Which would you rather travel?” asked Yaret.

Maeneb did not wait to hear Rothir’s answer. Somewhat disgusted with such fanciful talk, she returned to Gaelera and unwillingly informed her that her Ladyship would be most welcome to join the women for one night.

So there were eight of them in Maeneb’s tent. Maeneb could not help wondering if Gaelera would actually remove her decorative robes to sleep – the heavy fabric seemed so much a part of her.

But she appeared at the entrance wrapped in a dressing gown; embroidered, it was true, with lilies and long grasses; but not so densely as to prevent her sleeping in it. She lay on her back on a spare bedroll with her eyes closed, as if she were practising to be a corpse. At least she didn’t ask to be talked to.

However, Maeneb found some difficulty in going to sleep herself. The wind sneaked underneath the canvas walls to tease her. The lantern with its single candle swayed and wavered, its uncertain gleam disturbing her even through her closed eyelids. She could not shut her mind off from the other minds around her as she usually contrived to do at night. Instead she lay awake, listening to the various grades of sleeping-sounds – Delgeb snored the loudest – and wondered at Gaelera’s presence here with the Vonn. It had to have a motive. But what could it be?

Beyond the tent, the further sounds disturbed her: a man coughing, a horse whinnying; and she was aware of many minds still turning as their owners turned inside their bedrolls, trying to find some point of comfort in their situation, as fretful as the flickering lantern.

She reached out further, for Olbeth or Veron, wondering how they fared. She had been aware of Veron’s torment for the early part of this ride; but he was now too far away for her to sense him, or else the minds close to her blocked him out. She could easily detect the colour of Parthenal’s restlessness, two tents away. However, of Gaelera’s mind, only odd wisps of sensation came to her and none of them meant anything. Just dreams.

But someone several tents away, Maeneb became suddenly aware, was having a bad dream. Very bad. Although she could hear nothing, she felt the discomfort: rising rapidly to acute fear, pain, terror–

And then nothing. No awakening. Just a total blank.