Firewalk (25 page)

“Well, your eyes say you already knew what I have to tell you,” he said. “You’re indeed with child, although it’s too soon to say whether it’s a son or daughter.” He chuckled. “I should announce it to the High Lord and his advisers, but you’d never forgive me if you couldn’t surprise Randon, and
he’d
never forgive me if he couldn’t surprise Terralt. So I’ll keep my peace—for just a little while,” he added sternly. “This news is too marvelous to keep secret.”

“If you will only wait until Randon and I have a chance to dine together at midday,” Kayli said humbly.

Stevann only nodded, and Kayli saw for the first time how weary the mage looked. There were great dark rings under his eyes, and his table was stacked with scrolls and books.

“I believe I have fared better these last days than you,” she said gently. “Was it your magic that ended the storm?”

Stevann smiled tiredly.

“No, we owe that to a weather mage named Gerowan, Gated all the way from Keplin’s Downe. No, I’m afraid it’s Lady Ynea who’s been occupying my time, and your midwife’s, too, in case you’ve missed her presence.”

“Terralt said you had confined Ynea to bed,” Kayli remembered. “Has her condition worsened?”

“I haven’t confined her to her bed,” Stevann corrected, shaking his head. “The plain fact is that she’s too weak to leave it, goes white when she stands up. Endra has her on a hideous concoction of raisins and beef liver that seems to help—builds up her blood, or so Endra says—but I think it’s too late to do her much good. I wish Terralt had listened to me years ago when I said she should never bear another child.”

“Surely something can be done for her,” Kayli protested.

Stevann shrugged.

“I suggested to Terralt that we bring in other healers to consult. When High Lord Terendal employed me, he wanted a sort of jack-of-all-trades mage who could mix up a potion for his aching joints, forecast the fall harvest, and cast preservation spells on the hams. But that also means that I’m not a specialized healer, and my knowledge of childbearing is limited. Usually midwives handle that hereabouts. But Terralt won’t hear of consulting anyone else, and I doubt anyone would come anyway. Ynea’s case is too chancy, and nobody wants to risk Terralt’s anger if she—if all doesn’t go well.”

Pride again. Kayli clenched her hands, struggling to keep silent. But what could she say or do? At least Terralt let Endra tend his wife, although Kayli suspected that he permitted that only so he could gloat about discovering Kayli’s ruse.

But even her concern for Ynea could not dampen Kayli’s happiness. She took her leave of Stevann and hurried back to her quarters to prepare for Randon’s arrival. Thus when he appeared a little before noon, he found Kayli elegantly dressed and coiffed, the covered dishes of their dinner laid ready on the table. He raised his eyebrows and smiled.

“Well, you look beautiful,” he said. “But what’s the occasion? I’d have thought you’d rather get out of the room.”

“Brother Stevann has told me I may eat what I please,” Kayli said, smiling. “Is that not cause to celebrate?”

“Well, that’s true,” Randon admitted, sitting down. “All right, let’s enjoy your first solid meal in days, although for me it’s celebration enough that you’re here to eat it.”

He laughed when Kayli reached for her third venison-and-mushroom pasty.

“Making up for lost time? If I hadn’t believed you fully healed, I’d know it now,” he said, grinning. “Anybody with an appetite like that must be healthy.”

Kayli smiled back at him.

“And Brother Stevann tells me my appetite will only grow,” she said. “Over the next ten cycles of the moon.”

“Mmm.” Randon sipped his wine; then his eyes widened and he sputtered, spilling wine down the front of his tunic.

“Ten moon cycles?” he repeated, very carefully. “Do you mean to say—”

“I mean to say that yesterday, on the hearth furs, I conceived your child,” Kayli said, reaching across the table to clasp his fingers. “Brother Stevann has confirmed it But I wanted to tell you myself.”

Caution warred with amazement in Randon’s eyes.

“But Stevann said it wouldn’t be possible for some time, maybe months,” Randon said slowly. “Because of the poison.”

Kayli flushed, but there was no evading his question now.

“Yesterday at dawn, I performed a potent ritual,” she said quietly. “I used the Flame to purify myself and ready my body for the conception of a child. The ritual could not
make
me conceive, but it did place me at the peak of my fertility. I knew you would forbid practicing such potent magic, so I said nothing of it.”

Randon’s eyes searched her face.

“Was it dangerous?” he asked slowly.

Kayli took a deep breath.

“For one new to such magic, it was dangerous,” she admitted. “I could have been consumed by the Flame, body and spirit alike.” She did not tell Randon just how close she had come to such a fate. Nor did she tell him how seductive, how exquisite she had found the touch of the Flame. Somehow it embarrassed her, as if she had committed an infidelity.

Randon was silent for a moment, then he sighed.

“I want to say I wish you hadn’t tried it,” he said. “But I’d be half lying. I know why you took such a risk, and in your position I might have done the same. So I’ll thank you instead of lecturing you and say no more about it.”

“Thank you for understanding,” Kayli said, relieved. “I assure you, High Priestess Brisi, my mentor, will be far less charitable when she learns what I did.”

“Well, it’s hard to scold when I’m so happy.” Randon stepped around the table, gave her a fierce hug, then dropped to his knees to press his ear to her belly.

Kayli laughed.

“You will not feel anything now, or for many weeks to come,” she said, amused. “Your child is a tiny spark of life only just kindled.”

“Well, this little spark is going to light a big fire in Agrond,” Randon said, patting her belly contentedly. “I suppose Stevann’s already told the ministers?”

“I told him he could not deprive you of that pleasure,” Kayli said, smiling. “Just as I must have the pleasure of telling you.”

“Hmmm. Too late to call them back now, I suppose,” Randon said regretfully. “They’ll all have gone home for dinner. But I’ll ask them to supper, and Terralt, too, and of course Stevann. We’ll make a grand occasion of it.”

He fairly ran out of the room, leaving Kayli chuckling beside their abandoned dinner; it was not long, however, before he returned.

“I’ve got messengers and servants scampering around like frightened rats,” he said with a chuckle. “But for once nobody knows what’s going on but us.”

“I have not even told Endra,” Kayli said, a little surprised herself. “She has been spending most of her time with Ynea.” She told Randon what Stevann had said, and his brow furrowed with concern.

“I had no idea it was so bad,” he said. “I’ll try to persuade Terralt to let Stevann bring in other healers.” He hesitated. “Are you sure you won’t have troubles like that?”

“Endra says I should bear with no difficulty,” Kayli assured him. “I am not small and frail like Ynea, nor am I too young, nor will I bear my children so closely as to sap all the strength from my body.”

Randon looked even more worried.

“What, you mean that now you’ve conceived, you’re going to ban me from your bed for the next three years?”

“Of course not,” Kayli reassured him. “But there are teas and powders to inhibit conception; the Orders in Bregond have used them for centuries. Surely your own healers have them; did you think all your whores barren from birth?”

Randon grinned a little abashedly.

“Do you know, I never thought about it,” he said. “I suppose it’s unlikely that so many healthy women all happened to be barren while a frail thing like Ynea is so fertile.”

He shook his head.

“And Ynea has all my sympathy. But right now I’d rather think about you. And me.” He pulled Kayli warmly to him. “Want to celebrate?”

Kayli slid her arms around Randon’s neck, brushing her lips lightly over his.

“Yes,” she said simply.

After pleasure, remembering Terralt’s comments, Kayli insisted on a bath. Then she resignedly chose one of her simpler gowns (there was no hope of getting back into her formal gown with only Randon to help her), musing rather bitterly how her own attitudes had changed since she left Bregond. In the Order she would never have fretted over the formalities of cosmetics and dress.

“Not that” Randon cupped her shoulders from behind and laid a kiss at the juncture of her shoulder and her neck. “Wear that outfit you wore when you arrived that first night”

“My riding clothes?” Kayli protested, laughing. “Why?”

“Because they’re more
you
than anything else,” he told her. “And consequently you look more beautiful in them than in anything else. You’re going to be their High Lady, and you’ve worked hard adjusting to us. Let them start adjusting to
you.”

“ ‘Them’?” Kayli chided gently.

“All right all right.” He surrendered. “Us.”

Kayli gazed into his eyes, and saw an openness there that pleased her. For the first time since she had arrived in Agrond, she thought,
Yes. This is right.

“Very well,” she said, and the expression in Randon’s eyes said that he understood she was agreeing to something more than the choice of her clothes. Some essential gulf between them had been bridged in that instant. As Kayli folded her gown away and donned her riding clothes instead, she realized that Randon had understood something she had not—that the familiarity of her clothing made her feel more confident and comfortable. By the time she laced her boots, her movements had taken on their old efficiency and firmness, and she no longer felt like a performer on a stage. She braided her hair in a single plait, regretting that there was no time for the thirty-nine thin braids to which she was entitled. Well, that would wait; nobody at dinner would be impressed by their symbolism anyway.

Thus when she took Randon’s arm to walk down to the dining hall, her step was lighter and freer than it had been since she had arrived in Agrond. And if a few eyes went wide when they stepped into the dining hall, if muttered conversations came to an abrupt halt, what did that matter?

“Good evening, lords, ladies, Terralt, and Stevann,” Randon said rather grandly, giving them all a brief bow. “Tonight we’re dining together to celebrate the recovery of my wife, Kayli, your High Lady—and the mother of my child.”

Silence. It was a crucial moment, and Kayli’s eyes darted to each of the advisers, noting their reactions. Lord Kereg and Lady Aville schooled their faces to impassivity immediately. Lord Jaxon did not bother to stifle his broad grin, nor Lady Tarkas her thin-lipped skepticism. Lord Disian seemed mildly annoyed. At last Kayli glanced at Terralt, expecting to see anger or at least dismay in his reaction. To her surprise, he gazed directly back at her with a sort of resigned amusement. As their eyes met, Terralt gave her a wry smile and bowed his head briefly in acknowledgment.

The brief moment of shocked silence passed quickly, followed almost immediately by an uproar, the advisers clustering around Randon or firing rapid questions at Stevann. For a moment Kayli felt almost forgotten. Then Terralt rapped the hilt of his dagger sharply against the wooden table.

“Lords, ladies!” he said sternly. “This is, I believe, a joyous occasion which requires due celebration. And I’ll make the first toast.” He raised his goblet. “To High Lord Randon and High Lady Kayli—congratulations on the lady’s swift recovery, and on their joyful news.”

Randon led Kayli around to their places at the table, but when she started to lift her goblet, he touched her wrist, halting her. He glanced over at Stevann, who gave the barest hint of a nod. Randon took his hand away, smiling at Kayli, and raised his own glass.

There were questions, as Kayli had known there would be, and her supper was more an inquisition than a celebration, but she had expected that, too. She kept quiet and let Randon and Stevann explain while she concentrated on swallowing her second solid meal in a week.

“With respect, High Lord”—Lord Kereg hesitated—“and High Lady, a public wedding should be held as soon as possible. The banns should be posted immediately, and some sort of festival planned as well.”

“You’re right about that.” Randon was silent for a moment “We’ll have the wedding day after tomorrow. Forget the usual formalities; Gate the messengers to the outlying cities and towns if you must, and Gate back any nobles you think will be mortally offended if they can’t attend.”

Randon’s announcement surprised Kayli as it apparently did the others, and for a moment she was too confused to follow the hot outbursts that followed.

“High Lord, you can’t possibly be serious,” Lord Kereg protested. “A wedding of this magnitude must be conducted according to the proper protocols. I must insist—”

“No,
I
must insist,” Randon said firmly. “Lord Kereg, put yourself for the moment in the shoes of High Lord Elaasar. Since he sent his daughter to marry me, she’s been attacked by Sarkondish raiders and poisoned by our own people, both while we were supposedly protecting her. The announcement of her pregnancy is going to cause even greater conflict. So long as she’s pregnant but not yet confirmed High Lady, she’s still a target. So the wedding will take place at noon—”

“At dawn,” Kayli said gently.

Randon glanced at her, then smiled.

“At dawn day after tomorrow,” he said. “With feasting and frolicking to follow. Then Brother Santee can return to Bregond with the news that High Lord Elaasar’s daughter has been properly confirmed High Lady of Agrond.”

“How can we possibly prepare for a festival in two days?”

Lady Tarkas asked patiently. “Mages can Gate in the nobility, true, but they can’t conjure up a feast, musicians—”

“Nonsense,” Randon said. “Plenty of performers are already in the city for the midsummer festival in a few weeks. They’ll be glad of the extra work. As for the feast, send messengers to the bakers and butchers in town. Hire them to prepare food and bring it to the feast. Right now it’s important to let the people get used to the idea that Kayli’s here to stay, and the alliance is here to stay, too.” He raised his hand. “No more argument. Now let’s eat, please. This was supposed to be a celebration.”