Dragons and Destiny (24 page)

“Its quite
significant looking,” observed Elliot.

“Yes, sailors
use it as a reference point. It marks the beginning of one of the
safe channels.”

They met other
travellers. Being the last month of summer the merchant houses were
moving goods before the rains. They passed pack trains and the
occasional solitary traveller who would call out a cheerful
greeting as they passed. Elliot marvelled again at the difference
in the people. In Murdoch travellers ignored each other to the
point of incivility.

James rode
beside Elliot, chattering away about various topics and commenting
on the other travellers (usually after they were out of earshot but
not always).

Philip and
Robain rode behind.

“I’m
impressed,” Philip was saying.

“About what?”
Robain roused himself from his contemplation about meeting Hilla’s
parents with an effort.

“Your
country.”

“I’m from the
islands,” said Robain, “but I’ve always felt, since I arrived here
that this was home. There’s a curious acceptance.”

“I’ve felt it
too,” said Philip, “Murdoch is unsettling even when you’re born and
bred there. I don’t envy ‘Walter’ his task ahead. I would not care
to be a king.”

“Uneasy lies
the head …” began Robain.

“… that wears
the crown. We’ve got that play at home too. It’s an old one. My
father said it arrived with our ancestors but
that
part of
our history is seldom mentioned. No one wants to remember where our
ancestors came from. Not the done thing.”

Robain laughed.
“It’s part of our general history syllabus but we won’t hold it
against you. Six hundred years is a long time and we are no longer
bitter enemies however much we dislike certain aspects of your
society. Slavery for instance.”

“Unfortunate
but true,” said Philip. “My family don’t own any slaves, our land
in one of the northern duchies, Brentwood and there are very few
slaves there. Same goes for the four northerly duchies, Brentwood,
Gardiner, Duchesne and Graham.”

“I didn’t know
that,” admitted Robain. “I thought slavery was endemic.”

“It’s the land
itself,” Philip tried to explain. “At home in Brentwood it’s more
like here, small farms, tenant farmers, mixed agriculture and
forestry. Estates tend to be small and there are many towns and
villages. The further south you go it changes, large estates and
the ricca and cotton fields, hotter, drier, irrigation systems,
especially in Cocteau and van Buren. That’s where the slaves are
and in Sahara too, desert, dry as a bone, hell to travel through.
That’s where the mines are located and the slaves that work
them.”

“That’s where
my mother and sisters will be,” said Robain in a voice devoid of
emotion.

Philip started.
“Slaves? They are slaves? How can that be?”

Robain told him
about the pirate raid when he had been fourteen. “I tried to trace
them, I know the name of the galley, the
Relentless
, she
didn’t go to any of the other islands; she went straight to
Murdoch.”

“Murdoch, not
to the Western or Eastern Isles? They’d have been sent downriver in
the slave barges to the markets at Fort,” said Philip, deep
compassion in his voice. “The markets were closed down in Brentwood
and Gardiner in my grandfather’s day when the emancipation movement
began to take hold. Neither Duchesne nor Graham ever had one. I’m
very sorry to hear about this, I had no idea.”

“I don’t
mention it,” admitted Robain, “to my shame. I took a vow that day
to find them but I never did. There were my brothers to look
after.”

“I understand.
I can’t promise but when I get home I’ll see what I can do. There
are records I can look up and if all else fails I’ll speak to the
Crown-Prince. If I know him at all he’ll make it a royal command
that they be traced. Don’t build your hopes. They may still not be
alive.”

“I realise that
and thanks Philip, hope however slim, is something I can cling on
to. I’d like my mother and sisters to be there when Hilla and I get
married.”

“First you’ve
got to meet your future in-laws,” Philip teased.

“I’m all of a
jitter,” confided Robain. “Let’s catch up with the boys shall we?
They’re getting a bit ahead.”

It was a twist
of fate. Zilla had decided to go for a ride that afternoon. Now
that Rilla had left Lightfoot with her she had found a hitherto
unknown pleasure for riding. If he was not ridden on a regular
basis, he was apt to be fresh and difficult to control.

The gelding had
become reconciled to his new mistress. Zilla always took her duties
seriously and after promising Rilla she would look after Lightfoot,
look after him she did. He didn’t get the wild and fast rides Rilla
had favoured but he got plenty of exercise and had found, after a
few initial ‘try-it-ons’ that Zilla was a capable rider. Her touch
was light, her seat good and she forbore from using her heels
overmuch, just as Rilla had done.

On the whole,
Lightfoot was content. He trotted along the dirt track on a light
but firm rein. When James and Elliot topped the rise, they spied
them, a slim, erect figure riding a fine-boned pony.

“That’s a nice
little pony you’ve got here,” the irrepressible James called out to
her and was rewarded with a wave. “Which way to the Little Rover
Inn?”

The girl drew
rein. She had bright blonde hair tied back in a pony tail and was
wearing loose-fitting trousers and tunic.

She was
insufficiently like Hilla for them to see that she was the youngest
triplet but Elliot felt a faint stirring of recognition. There was
something about the tilt of her nose and the shape of her mouth
that reminded him of a person he had met recently.

“We’re looking
for rooms for the night.”

“It’s just down
that way, in the hollow,” Zilla replied. “Actually, I’m just
finishing my ride. I can take you there if you want.”

“Delighted My
Lady,” Elliot answered. “I have the pleasure of speaking to?”

Zilla giggled
at being addressed as a lady. “My name is Zilla,” she informed him,
“Zilla Talansdochter, my Father is the innkeeper.”

“Has he rooms
available?” asked James.

Elliot broke
in, “you’re Hilla’s sister. Your face rang a bell, even before you
told us your name.”

Zilla’s face
broke out into a smile, “you know Hilla? You’ve come from
Settlement? That’s wonderful. How is she? Do you know her
well?”

“Yes, yes,
well, no,” Elliot answered.

Zilla laughed.
“Sorry. It’s been a while since I’ve heard from her.”

“There’s a
parcel and a letter for you in my pack,” said Elliot. “Robain put
it in.”

“Robain’s here?
Leftenant Hallam?” exclaimed Zilla.

“He’s
accompanying us on our travels,” explained Elliot, “and he’s a
Captain now.”

“Travels?”
queried Zilla, Robain, parcel and news from Hilla momentarily
forgotten.

“We’re from
Murdoch,” interrupted James. “I’m Kellen Cocteau and the individual
you are plying with questions is my friend Kellen Merriman, both at
your service.”

“If you’re
going to be staying at the
Little Rover
then it is me who is
at your service,” said Zilla with some humour. “There’s four of
you,” she added as she spied Robain and Philip top the rise, “the
other gentleman?”

“Baron Ross,
our tutor,” James replied.

“Tutor? He
doesn’t look much like an academic.”

“He’s not
exactly,” answered Elliot.

“I see,” said
Zilla but it was clear that she didn’t and was just being polite.
“If you’ll come with me?” She turned Lightfoot and led the way down
the hill. “How long will you be staying?”

“The one night
I think,” answered James, “unless of course Walter’s horse is as
lame as Baron Ross thinks.”

“If you tell
our stableman he’ll get the vet from the village to take a look at
him, he’s good; my sister Rilla always said so.”

“You’re the
youngest triplet,” said James.

“Yes, I’m the
youngest,” replied Zilla.

“And the
prettiest,” announced Elliot.

Zilla blushed a
deep rosy red.

The next
morning it was raining.

“Winter is
almost upon us,” observed Robain at breakfast. “We’ll get far more
rain from now on.”

“We should stay
here another day,” said Philip, “Nibbles needs a day’s rest anyway
and it won’t do the others any harm.”

“Suits me,”
said James.

Lazybones,”
chaffed Elliot.

“Just looking
after myself,” James replied with mock offence. He rose from the
table, “so back to bed for a while. Growing boys need a lot of
rest. Coming?”

“No,” answered
Elliot, “I think I’ll go out and explore.”

“Don’t go far,”
Philip warned. “Take your sword, remember what happened at
Settlement.”

“I might go as
far as the stables. I’ll be careful.”

Philip looked
concerned, “I’ll be down directly myself.”

“He’ll be
okay,” vouchsafed Robain to Elliot’s surprise. The Captain was
usually as concerned about Elliot’s safety as Philip. “Go on lad;
just keep within the confines of the inn grounds.”

Elliot explored
the inn with interest, unconsciously keeping an eye out for Zilla.
Periodically he met various inn-servants who always greeted him
with courtesy and asked if he needed anything. Talan, Zanda and Zak
he also met and the occasional guest. Eventually he plucked up the
courage to ask Zak the probable whereabouts of his sister.

“I think she’s
in the stables,” Zak said, “with Lightfoot.”

“Rilla’s
pony?”

“Hers now.”

“Do you think
she’d mind if I spoke with her? I met Hilla at Settlement and can
give her news.”

The excuse
sounded lame to Elliot but Zak didn’t seem to notice.

“To see
her
?” Zak sounded a little surprised, “don’t suppose so.
It’s a free world. She often goes down there when it’s raining.
With both Rilla and Hilla away I think she’s lonely.”

“Must be hard
for her.”

“She’s a
triplet. I know a bit about what she must be feeling. I’m a twin
myself. I missed Zala when she left to get married but it hit Zilla
hard when Hilla and Rilla went. Go speak to her by all means;
she’ll be glad of the company.

“Thanks,”
Elliot said and after a quick dash up to the room he shared with
James (he was sound asleep) to get his duffle jacket he was
outside, splashing through the puddles, the stables his goal.

He found Zilla
in Lightfoot’s loosebox. She was talking to him in a soft voice.
The pony seemed to be listening to what she had to say.

“Zilla?”

She turned and
for Elliot it was if time stood still. Her hair was tumbled round
her head, like, he couldn’t describe it, her face one of gentle
inquiry. In the muted light from the small window above she looked
like a dream figure.

Elliot
suppressed a sudden urge to kiss her. This was no royal palace with
kitchen and serving wenches there for the taking. They stood facing
each other. The air between them was electric in its intensity.
Both felt it.

Zilla had been
daydreaming. Lightfoot was a most appreciative listener and he
never answered back.

“Robain is
nearly good enough for her,” she had whispered in Lightfoot’s ear
just before Elliot had called her name. She had sat up last night
in her lonely room and read Hilla’s letter. Was it only a few short
months ago since the three of them had laughed and giggled together
as they had prepared for bed? The letter had been, as usual,
crammed with news, mostly about Robain and it also said that he
would be visiting. It also suggested that as the party might also
be visiting Vada she should take the opportunity to write direct to
Rilla. That letter was in her apron pocket waiting for a moment
when she could give it to Robain unseen. Talan still hadn’t
forgiven Rilla for what he was still calling her desertion.

“Hello,” Zilla
said, her heart fluttering.

Elliot was not
in any better state.

“Did you want
something?”

“To see you,”
Elliot blurted and wished he’d managed to hold his tongue. Zilla
looked startled, confused and embarrassed.

“Your brother
said I would find you here.” There, that was better, his voice
sounded more normal. “He told me that you might like some company,
perhaps to ask more about Hilla. She was my dinner partner one
evening not long ago.”

“That would be
nice,” assented Zilla, a little colour pinking her naturally pale
cheeks, “I miss her.”

“So I
understand. So ask away. I’ve only met her twice but the second
time was short, she’s only a bit like you, you know, if I didn’t
know who you were really in relation.”
The Gods, what rubbish am
I uttering?
“I’d really prefer to talk about you.”
Now what
made me say that?

He blundered
on, “I might be seeing your sister Rilla if you had any messages
for her?” That excuse sounded feeble too.

Zilla seemed
amused, “I’m not very interesting. Hilla is the adventurous one,
Rilla too now I suppose. I just stay here and help my parents.”

“Tell me about
it,” he encouraged and when she shook her head, added, “please, I’d
like to know.”

The two of them
sat on a hay bale in one of the vacant stalls and Zilla began to
talk. She described what she did each day and as she did the real
Zilla (the one only her triplet sisters had ever seen before) began
to emerge.

Fascinated,
Elliot listened and as the bells passed fell more and more under
her thrall. This was no wench to take to his bed and then discard.
She might serve in an inn but she was worthy of his respect.

Unconsciously,
he found himself comparing her to what he knew about Isobel and
Zilla was coming out on top, every time. Of course, he hadn’t had
the chance to talk to Isobel so perhaps it wasn’t fair to compare
them but Elliot couldn’t help himself. His attraction to Zilla was
growing with alarming speed.