Firewalk (30 page)

Randon sighed, but Kayli fancied there was a little relief in the sigh.

“As little as I like to admit it, you’re right,” he said. “All right, then, if that’s what you want, we’ll say no more about it.” Then he gave her an entreating grin. “But may I please move myself and my belongings back into what were once my own rooms? It’s a hard thing, barring a groom from his bride’s bed on his wedding night.”

“No harder than for the bride to spend her night in that lonely bed,” Kayli said, smiling despite herself. The night before she’d been glad enough to be alone with her thoughts; tonight, however, she would be glad of companionship to keep those same thoughts at bay.

Supper was quiet and awkward, the sparse conversation carefully limited. Kayli thought to herself that in fact she had known Randon for only a short time; it was hard to mend a quarrel with someone still so much a stranger, and now, like Randon, she had secrets to keep. After some consideration, however, she decided that she should tell him of her promise to Ynea. Randon’s expression grew grimmer and grimmer as she spoke.

“Do you think she’s right?” he asked, his voice leaden. “Do you think she’s going to die?”

“I have not directly asked Stevann or Endra,” Kayli said slowly, covering his hand with her own. She had come to love Ynea in the short time she had known her, and Randon had known her since she had married Terralt. “But if Endra told her that her chances of survival are poor, I must believe it. If she had not borne so young or so close together, or perhaps if she had been tended by great heaters—”

“We’ll bring the healers,” Randon said quickly. “Now that Terralt’s not here, it will be easy.”

“Then bring them, by all means,” Kayli said with a sigh. “But I think there is little they can do now but give her comfort and ease. Still, even that would be a blessing. And all I can do for her is to promise kindness to her children.” She glanced at Randon. “I hope I did not presume too much.”

“No, of course not,” Randon said remotely, gazing into the fire. “We’ll see that they’re well cared for and happy. I would have anyway, at least as far as Terralt will let—No, you have to be wrong,” he said more firmly. “There has to be something the healers can do. Why, I’ve heard in the west they have mages who can raise the dead.”

Kayli shuddered at the thought of such desecration, but she said nothing. Privately she doubted there was any healer powerful enough to save Ynea, not so late in her pregnancy, but there was no harm in letting Randon believe what he would. Besides, what did she know? Perhaps there was magic mightier than she had ever heard.

“Then you must bring those healers quickly,” she said, nodding. “But you might comfort Ynea most by visiting her from time to time. I am sure your company would please her greatly.”

Randon stared into the fire moodily, and Kayli could almost feel his guilt. He could have defied Terralt as Kayli herself had done; he could have brought in a healer surreptitiously to visit Ynea as Kayli had sent Endra. But for whatever reason he had thought good—whether because he doubted his ability to keep the secret from Terralt, or whether he believed Terralt less likely to forgive his own brother than a stranger for interfering—he had not done so, and he would not soon forgive himself for it. Now Kayli regretted her words in the courtyard even more bitterly. Terralt had at least warranted a rebuke, if not such a public one, but Randon was merely the victim of her ill temper.

“Your thought to send troops to secure the border, that was a good one,” Kayli said, hoping to distract him.

“It wasn’t my idea, it was Terralt’s,” Randon said ruefully. “He said if we were going to have this alliance, we might as well do it properly. He said we should slowly stock an encampment at the border, but I took it a step further and sent the troops with the caravan. Terralt also suggested that we might want a permanent garrison at the border to watch for Sarkondish raiders. Mind you, I imagine he’s thinking as much of Bregondish warriors creeping over our borders as Sarkondish ones, but the idea’s still a good one. A permanent fortress would make a safe stopping point, too, for messengers and caravans traveling between Agrond and Bregond. Primarily, though, I just wanted to show your father that we were doing something about the problem immediately.” He shook his head. “If two attempts on his daughter’s life aren’t enough for him to declare the alliance null and mount a war against us, I don’t know what is.”

“My father’s word is written in stone,” Kayli told him. “He values me, yes, but he would not place my well-being above the welfare of our country” She knew that only too well. “He will be delighted to learn that we have conceived a child.” In fact he would likely be outraged by the strange Agrondish custom of the wedding and confirmation after the conception. But there was no need to trouble Randon with that information; there was little else he could have done.

Randon turned and glanced at her.

“Kayli, what happens when your parents die?” he asked suddenly. “To the alliance, I mean.”

“It depends on which daughter they choose as their Heir,” Kayli told him. “Mother and Father will choose a daughter and her husband whom they believe will best rule Bregond in the manner they wish.”

“Might he choose you?” Randon asked her gravely.

“Perhaps,” Kayli said slowly. “It would be a daring move, for then our two countries would become one, under you and me as High Lord and Lady, and after us, our child. But I do not know that my father would risk such a choice. To ally with Agrond, that is one thing; to become one people with it is another. It might mean a great future for our people, but many would see it as a betrayal, as a loss of our sovereignty, our very identity.” In fact, Randon’s question troubled her. Did he hope to rule Bregond as well as Agrond? Such ambition seemed more characteristic of Terralt than of him, and Kayli had never thought that her marriage might not only cement an alliance, but subject Bregond to the rule of another country.

“Perhaps it is best that such great changes happen slowly,” Kayli said gently. “A great herd moving across the plains slowly and steadily is a comforting sight, but when they all race uncontrolled, the danger is great.”

Randon sighed.

“You’re right,” he said. “Since you’ve come I’ve marveled at how different our peoples are in their ways, when we actually live so close together. I suppose I thought most of the people in the world were pretty much alike. Why, even to the far west in Allanmere—”

“You have been to Allanmere, where water wells up from the earth into every home, and where elves live side by side with men?” Kayli asked, awed. In Bregond, the great city of Allanmere was more myth than truth, touched only through the often conflicting stories of merchants.

“Yes, I was there once,” Randon said, grinning at the wonder in Kayli’s expression. “I sailed down the Dezarin with some merchants, then back up the Brightwater. It’s a marvelous city, all right—larger than Tarkesh probably by half again. The water doesn’t bubble up into every home except in the rich areas, though there are plenty of public fountains—and the fountains only spout water, not fine wine, and the streets aren’t paved with silver, and peasants don’t drink from ruby cups. But it’s true the elves there do live side by side with men. Not always happily or well, but some of them own homes and businesses right in the city. You can sit down in a tavern and share a bottle of wine with one—although you may not end up getting much of the wine. But I always thought that if Allanmere could keep the peace between two such different peoples within the same city, there’s no reason we can’t do it when Agrond and Bregond have so few opportunities to bother each other.”

“No sparks are drawn when the flint keeps separate from the steel,” Kayli said, quoting Brisi, and Randon had to laugh.

“Well, that’s a good thought, since we’re trying to prevent a fire that will burn both countries to ash,” Randon admitted.

Gazing into his troubled eyes, Kayli felt a sudden warmth in her heart. It was impossible to resent one who cared so very deeply for his people—and now, by extension, for her own.

“What are you thinking, with such an expression?” Randon asked her with a smile.

“I was thinking of another sort of fire,” Kayli said, smiling back. “And how much I would like to kindle it. Unless you wish to be the High Lord all night.”

Randon’s eyes sparkled, and some of the worry left them.

“I think,” he said, “the High Lord has retired for the evening.”

In the morning, Kayli and Randon woke early to the sound of a sharp, impatient knock on their door.

“Come in,” Randon called, but instead of a maid with their breakfast, it was Terralt who strode in, his face set and tense.

“Better get up, High Lord of Agrond,” Terralt said sarcastically. “Your people are rioting at your gates.”

“Rioting!” Randon bolted upright, “What’s happened?”

“You, as usual,” Terralt growled. “Bright Ones, Randon, you couldn’t take a good idea and leave it alone, could you? You just had to do it your way, and now look what’s happened.”

“What are you talking about?” Randon asked impatiently, sliding out of bed and grabbing his robe. Kayli stayed where she was, under the covers. Terralt’s eyes flickered to her almost involuntarily, and she pulled the covers a little higher.

“The guards,” Terralt said. “I told you to send troops to the border, not parade them through the city with that Bregondish caravan. There are rumors everywhere—that you’re sending our troops to defend Bregondish lands from raiders, that the troops aren’t there for the raiders at all, but to prevent a planned Bregondish attack. Worst of all, word’s gotten out that you’ve invited Bregond to station troops on
our
border. The people are in a panic, and what did you expect?”

“Well, what did
you
expect?” Randon retorted. “I couldn’t mass a garrison of troops at the border without asking High Lord Elaasar to join the effort; otherwise he’d have thought
we
were preparing to invade. And by the time I could have smuggled the troops out of the city quietly, in small groups, they’d have been no use to the caravan. The Sarkondish raids have increased since Kayli arrived, or hadn’t you heard?”

“I heard,” Terralt said irritably. “And if you’d mustered the force slowly and quietly, as I said, you could have done something productive about it without frightening your own people. Now you’ve got hundreds of terrified peasants clamoring at your gates. Go out there and deal with them.”

“Bright Ones,” Randon muttered. He disappeared out the door, presumably going to his dressing room to pull on some clothes before he confronted Tarkesh’s irate population.

Terralt stood where he was for a moment, still gazing darkly at Kayli. At last he turned and followed Randon out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Kayli was already half-dressed by the time her maids arrived to help her. As soon as she was clothed, she ran down the hallways after Randon; at the door, however, Stevann stopped her.

“Randon asked me to keep you inside,” the mage apologized. “I don’t think it’s very safe out there right now.”

Kayli peered out the door. The courtyard was empty but for guards, most of whom had clustered near the courtyard gates. An ugly crowd had gathered outside the wall, and there was a good deal of shouting and cursing that carried all the way to the castle. She could hardly believe that many of these same people had gathered here so peacefully only two days before to celebrate her wedding.

“Where is Randon?” she asked anxiously. “I do not see him.”

“He’s up at the gate, where no doubt some assassin’s dagger or some peasant’s rock will find him,” Terralt said, joining Kayli at the door. “I told him to send a messenger out, but there’s no reasoning with him. Better stay back. If they catch sight of you right now, it’ll only make them angrier. The guards have all they can do keeping those peasants from climbing the wall or battering at the gates now.”

Now Kayli could pick out Randon’s rich red-brown hair shining in the morning sunlight. Apparently he was trying to reason with the crowd; she could see his head bobbing as if he spoke, and his arms waved. But the roar of the mob continued unabated, and she saw with alarm that true to Terralt’s word, there were indeed missiles flying—rocks, or perhaps clods of dirt or offal. Kayli stepped involuntarily forward, and Terralt grabbed her arm, halting her.

The touch of his hand on her arm seared through her, but this time Kayli refused to succumb to embarrassment or confusion, and she rounded on Terralt squarely.

“Do something to help him,” she demanded. “Or I shall.” When Terralt still hesitated, she added icily, “He is my
husband
’.”

Terralt jerked his hand from her arm as if burned, muttered an oath, and strode angrily out the door. When he reached Guard Captain Beran, the two men conversed for a moment, then disappeared around the corner of the castle.

Meanwhile, at the gate, there was a sudden break in the angry shouting, and for a moment there was a hush, quickly replaced by a rather confused murmur. By the time Captain Beran led a large company of troops around the wall to break up the mob, most of the peasants scattered quietly. Kayli’s heart did not slow, however, until she saw Randon walking back to the castle, still protectively surrounded by a dozen guards.

“Are you all right?” she asked as soon as he was through the door. “I saw them throwing stones.”

“Well, it was a nasty crowd, there’s no denying it,” Randon admitted, glancing over his shoulder.

“What was it you told them?” Kayli asked. “Something you said calmed them.”

“I don’t think it calmed them,” Randon said, sighing. “Just gave them something to think about and decide whether they like it or not. I told them you’d conceived my heir.”

“But they knew that already, did they not?” Kayli asked, surprised. “The delay of the wedding—”

“I’m sure they’d heard rumors,” Randon said, nodding. “But as far as they knew, the wedding had been delayed by your own poor health—your illness when you first arrived, then the poisoning. There was no official confirmation. Well, now they know I’ll have an heir, which means the both of us are here to stay, and it’ll take them some time, I hope, to decide what they think of that. A child commits you more firmly to Agrond; I hope that eases some of their fears.”