Firewalk (12 page)

Kayli smiled, but inwardly she found Randon’s vision unlikely. Terralt was too ambitious, too inflexible in his thinking to be content with a subordinate’s role. As Randon had implied, likely Terralt had served at his father’s side only in the hope that the High Lord would one day name him Heir. How onerous such service must have been to the proud lord!

“Well, after that, I don’t think I could go back to our rooms and play at being newlyweds again, could you?” Randon said ruefully. “What if we change our clothes instead, and you can show me the wonderful horses you brought, and choose a new hawk for you, and tomorrow we’ll ride in the country. And when we’re done in the stables and the mews, I’ll show you the forge.”

“That would be most pleasant,” Kayli said with relief. She was indeed far too agitated now to return to idleness, and she very much wanted to finish dressing. When she considered her wardrobe, she realized that she had nothing fit for stable wear except the riding clothes she’d worn on the journey to Agrond. Was such clothing offensive by Agrondish standards? Well, she thought at last, better to find out now while there was nobody but Randon to see.

She need not have worried.

“What a marvelous outfit,” Randon said when he saw her. “Perfect for hunting. Terralt told me about the leather leggings, but you’re not wearing them now, are you?”

Kayli pulled her jaffs out of the chest and held them up for Randon to see.

“They are not necessary here,” she said. “They are only for protection from the high grass.”

“Well, you look marvelous. I wonder if Ynea—” Randon sighed. “No. She’s never been well enough to ride.”

“Childbearing seemed to disagree with her,” Kayli said, glancing at Randon as they walked through the corridors. “Endra is a very skilled midwife, trained in one of the healing Orders. I had thought to offer her services to the Lady Ynea.”

“Mmm.” Randon was silent for a moment as they walked. “Best say nothing to Terralt, or he’ll forbid it. Stevann suggested bringing in a midwife after Ynea nearly died bearing her first child. My mother died bearing me, you know.”

“No, I did not know.” Kayli was silent. Because most novices in the healing Orders not gifted enough to continue in the Orders became midwives, it was rare that any Bregondish childbearing woman or her infant died for lack of skilled care. Kayli knew that mages were less common in Agrond than Bregond, and that Agrondish mages did not specialize in one area of magic and so concentrate their talents, but surely there were midwives of some sort, be it only village wisewomen. What excuse could there be for a nobleman to deny his wife such care? After a moment’s worry that she might offend some Agrondish custom, she voiced her thoughts to Randon.

“Most noble households have healers like Stevann, not midwives,” Randon told her. “And as you say, our mages don’t specialize in healing. My mother had both a midwife and a healer present at my birth, and she died anyway. Father had both the healer and the midwife banished, and it was years before he hired Stevann. Terralt has no faith in midwives, and little enough in mages at all. At least he lets Stevann attend Ynea.”

They were at the front entry now. Randon nodded briefly to the two guards flanking the heavy wooden door, and they opened it. Kayli was not too lost in her thoughts to be grateful that no guards followed Randon and herself outside.

The bricked courtyard felt strange under the soles of her boots, but the fresh air and the wind and sun on her face was wonderful. Even the smell from the stables was almost pleasant in its familiarity. Kayli was pleased to see that despite the unavoidable stink of manure, the stable was clean, the horses well-groomed and healthy. She was concerned, however, to see the small boxes Agrondish horses were kept in. To her confusion, Randon led her through the stables and out the other side.

“Your string have given our grooms a little difficulty,” Randon admitted. “As long as the weather’s been good, we’ve kept them in the outdoor pen.”

That sounded reassuring, but Kayli was less pleased when she saw the wood-fenced enclosure. It was large enough, but the ground was wet and soiled. Her horses, too, had not been groomed as well as those in the stables—or perhaps they had simply been rolling in the muck.

“As I said, the grooms have had a little trouble with them,” Randon said apologetically. “They’re not used to horses with so much spirit.”

Kayli whistled and Maja trotted over to the fence, the rest of the string following.

“They are spirited, but not mean,” Kayli said slowly. “One of my maids can assist your grooms until my parents can send a groom. But this wet ground will ruin the horses’ hooves and legs. They are accustomed to drier footing.”

Randon nodded.

“I’ll have it taken care of,” he said. “That’s your mare, isn’t it?”

“Her name is Maja.” The mare snorted in pleasure as Randon’s fingers unerringly found her favorite scratching spot behind her ears.

Seeing that Randon was confident with Maja, Kayli coaxed the mare around to the gate so she could bring her out for him to examine. Despite the reputed intimidation of the grooms, Randon handled Maja confidently, admiring her deep, broad chest and muscular hindquarters. Agrondish horses seemed tall and weak and knobby to her; surely Maja looked squat and round to Randon, but he said only, “How powerful she is. I imagine she could run forever on open ground,” shaking his head admiringly as Kayli returned Maja to the pen.

Randon agreed with Kayli’s suggestion that Carada, a swift but patient mare, would serve best as his own mount. Judging from Randon’s bride gift and Terralt’s remarks, Kayli had anticipated some common ground between herself and Randon in hunting and riding, and she was glad to have a topic on which they could converse easily and comfortably, their discussion carrying no more import than simple chat. Although Kayli usually hunted with her bow, she knew enough of falconry to talk knowledgeably with Randon when he took her to the mews, although she insisted that he choose her new hawk.

“It was your bride-gift, after all,” she excused herself. “I would prefer to fly a hawk that you chose for me.”

Any further casual chatter fled Kayli’s mind, however, when Randon showed her the palace forge deep in the cellars.

“My great-great-grandfather used to have dungeons here,” he said. “That was when Tarkesh was so small that the few cells here could actually hold all the criminals. When the new dungeons were built in the city, Great-Grandfather hired a master smith—he had a passion for fine swords—and had the forges built to the smith’s order. There are clever conduits at the walls with levers to open and close them, to let the smoke out. Of course, we don’t use the place anymore now; Father thought it was wasteful for smiths to be sitting around the castle idle most of the time. What do you think?”

Kayli gazed around her with awe. The forge had been designed by a master smith indeed. Why, the great inner forge at the Order was no finer than this—and imagine designing a forge inside the castle cellars, with no windows, but still being rid of the smoke! There was a small forge built into the wall, likely for the making of swords, as Randon had said, and that would be of no use to Kayli, but there was also a good old-fashioned open firepit for larger meltings. The stones of the floor, walls, and ceiling were, of course, grimed with a heavy coating of soot, and that, coupled the room’s size, meant that Kayli would spend a great deal of time cleaning it properly before consecrating it, but if she had been given her every wish, she could have asked for nothing better than what she saw.

“You needn’t say a word.” Randon laughed, startling her out of her meditation. “I’m answered by your expression. I’ll hire some sturdy lads from the city to scrub the place down and arrange things to your liking. Meantime we’d best go back before Terralt finds a way to have us barred from my own home.”

There was, of course, no such difficulty, but a maid was lurking just inside the door, wondering whether the lord and lady would take their dinner in their rooms or the dining hall. Randon glanced at Kayli for confirmation, then told the maid they’d dine in the hall today.

To Kayli’s relief, Terralt was not there, nor was the Lady Ynea, and no places had been set for them. Randon told her that Ynea seldom felt strong enough to leave her rooms, and Terralt was sorting through some of their father’s papers.

“I really should help him,” Randon said hesitantly. “If you’d pardon my absence, that is.”

“Of course, you must not neglect your duties on my account,” Kayli said immediately. “Can I help you?”

“I don’t see how you could,” he told her. “It’s mostly a matter of sorting out old documents which can be discarded, those to be filed in the archives, and those that contain current business to be reviewed. I’d leave the job to Terralt entirely—it’s miserably hard for me to read Father’s writing—but I don’t think it’s wise to let him make too many decisions without me. Again, if you don’t object.”

“Of course not.” Indeed, Kayli felt a sort of guilty relief; she was accustomed to solitude, and in the time since she’d left the Order, she’d had precious little of it. A few hours of privacy would let her explore the effects of her Awakening, glance through Brisi’s grimoire, and plan her course of study. Most of the preliminary work she could practice at the hearth fire, until the forge was ready.

As they ate, Kayli noticed a large portrait of a man and woman hanging over the fireplace. The woman was lovely, tall and fair-haired, and the man bore a striking resemblance to Randon, although he was noticeably older.

“Is that your father and mother?” Kayli asked, indicating the painting.

“My father, yes,” Randon told her. “But that’s Delana with him, Terralt’s mother, Father’s mistress before he married my mother. After my mother died, Father had that portrait hung. He loved Delana very much. I imagine he’d have wed her, but he was Heir and Delana was only a coppersmith’s daughter.” He glanced at Kayli, then looked away again. “She took her own life when my father married my mother. I imagine that’s one of the reasons Terralt never cared much for me.”

Kayli flushed with embarrassment, wishing she had not asked about the portrait. How unkind of High Lord Terendal to hang the portrait there in open view in the dining hall. Poor Randon would probably never have it removed.

When they had finished eating and Randon returned to his work, Kayli found that the maids had taken advantage of her and Randon’s absence to tidy their chambers. The hearth fur had been replaced, and she wondered with a mixture of amusement and embarrassment whether her maiden’s blood had been displayed to Randon’s advisers as proof of their coupling. Agrond seemed to favor such immodest customs.

Kayli leafed through Brisi’s grimoire with some satisfaction. Awakening marked more than merely the rousing of her magical talent; it marked her initiation into the true practice of magic, the transition into a completely different course of study. In her years at the temple, the rituals Kayli had learned were simply a means of developing and focusing concentration or training self-discipline necessary to master her magical energies when they were activated.

The ritual of Initiation, too, was only a formality, a way to mark the passage from the latently talented novitiate to active scholarship. Initiates learned to consciously manipulate the Flame itself, putting to use the control already learned over the power of the Flame as it grew and developed.

Already Kayli could manifest the Flame in its simplest form and direct it to some extent. As an experiment, she brought the small flame forth again. With a little practice she could make it larger or smaller, make it dance over her fingertips, pour it from one cupped hand to the other like water, but as soon as she tried to direct it elsewhere—onto the tabletop or into a clay dish—the fire quickly died. With further practice that would change; Initiates were expected to light candles and lamps, and later to kindle the forge. Brisi could make anything burn, even water or stone. So obviously there was a way to free the Flame from the confines of her own flesh.

Kayli studied as the shadows from the window lengthened, delighted when patient concentration let her light a candle to read by, and in her fascination might well have worked all night if Randon had not walked in, sighing and rubbing his eyes.

“Well, there’s a good deal more to be done,” he said unhappily. “But it’ll wait for another day.” He glanced at Kayli. “You look as tired as I feel. Have you been studying all afternoon and evening?”

“Yes.” Had it been so long? Apparently so; the sky was completely dark at the window.

“We’re a pair.” Randon chuckled. “You at your books and me at mine right through supper, and only the day after our marriage. Well, never mind; hopefully there’ll be many quiet days to come. Meanwhile I’ve ordered up supper, enough for us both. I didn’t know if you’d eaten.”

Kayli only smiled, laying the grimoire aside. How comfortingly like her days in the Order it had been—to become so utterly absorbed in her studies that hours had passed unnoticed. How many times had Priestess Vayavara sternly ordered her and the other Dedicates away from their books or their meditations to eat or sleep or do their chores?

“You’re so silent,” Randon said, frowning slightly. “Do you want to be left alone?”

“Oh, no, no,” Kayli said hurriedly. In truth she’d have liked nothing better than a few hours more alone with her studies, but she was a wife and a ruler now. Her studies would have to wait for whatever time she could spare.

“Forgive me,” she said, pinching out the candle she’d lit so proudly. “I had merely become absorbed in my work. I am glad we can sup together, even if it is late.”

Although Randon glanced wistfully at the grimoire, Kayli avoided the subject of her studies. She might invite him to watch some of the rituals if he was curious, but best he accept now that he could not share this part of her life. Instead she drew him into a discussion of the earlier meeting with the council, reminding Randon that she knew nothing at all of these people who held so much influence in Agrond’s government.

“There’s not much to tell,” Randon said, shrugging. “Most of the ministers have held their posts since I was very young. Lord Kereg and Lady Tarkas, though, were appointed more recently. Nothing suspicious about the appointments themselves—Lord Kereg joined the council when Lady Ecenia simply grew too old and frail to hold her post, and Lady Tarkas replaced Lady Besanne when Lady Besanne’s husband was crippled in a fall and needed his wife’s full attention—but both Lord Kereg and Lady Tarkas spent a lot of time with Terralt at court before their appointments, and I don’t doubt that Terralt had a hand in their selection. Of course, I don’t mean to say they’re corrupt,” he added hastily. “Like all Father’s ministers, they took an oath of loyalty to the High Lord and to Agrond under truth spell.”