Firewalk (35 page)

Meanwhile plans for the usual midsummer festival in Tarkesh proceeded apace. The festival would take place, as customary in Agrond, on the day and night of the new moon, ten days after the meeting at the border. Fortunately, in Bregond, midsummer was celebrated at the full of the moon instead. That would leave Randon and Kayli time to return to Tarkesh, even at the pace of a large caravan, in time for Agrond’s festival.

“It’ll be the first time I’ve ever celebrated midsummer twice in one year,” Randon told Kayli, chuckling. “But tell me, do you think I could have outfits like yours made by then?”

He was commenting, of course, on the Bregondish riding clothes which Kayli had taken to wearing whenever she was not at an official function. She’d had several such outfits made, although of Agrondish fabrics. Even at formal occasions she wore her Bregondish-style gowns. If Randon was offended at this small act of defiance, he never said so.

When he made his request, however, Kayli shook her head.

“I will have Bregondish riding clothes made for you if you wish,” she said gently, “but I would advise against wearing them when meeting my father. He would deem it presumptuous at best, a mockery at worst. You are not a Bregond, and pretending to be one will not impress him.”

Sometimes Kayli wondered, too, what impression
she
would make on her father and mother and whatever priests or priestesses might accompany them. She had disgraced her teachings, indulged in the most undisciplined and selfish behavior, disobeyed her High Priestess—of course they didn’t know this, but
she
knew, and she wondered if they could see it in her eyes.

Every few days Kayli would make the long walk down to the forge. She would look at the bed of coals laid ready, her books, her tools; she would draw her
thari
and finger the sharp edge of the blade. Then she would put her
thari
away and walk back upstairs again, with the sour taste of cowardice in her mouth. A hundred times she pulled out her speaking crystal, only to put it away again. What could she say to Brisi or even to Kairi, her own sister? That she, an Initiate of the Temple of Inner Flame, had grown afraid of her own magic? That she no longer dared so much as set a candle alight by her own power, that she fled from the hearth fire out of fear that her caressing awareness of the flame would dissolve what little control she had left? And what could they say in return?

Only a sevenday before her planned departure with Randon to the border, Kayli woke and slid out of bed, walking over to the basin as usual to wash her face and hands. This morning, however, she took only a step or two before sudden nausea seized her, and she barely made it to the washbasin before she vomited wretchedly into it. Unfortunately the sound woke Randon, and then nothing would do but that he carry Kayli back to bed and summon Endra and Stevann to attend her.

Stevann politely stifled his amusement at Randon’s concern; Endra, however, made no effort to hide her laughter.

“Best keep the basin by your bed, lady, for you may spew every morning for weeks.” The midwife chuckled, grinning sideways at Randon. “It’s only the babe, High Lord, playing hob with the lady’s vitals.”

“But should she travel now?” Randon asked anxiously. “It’ll be a long trip, and uncomfortable.”

This time it was Stevann who chuckled.

“There’s no need to compare Kayli to Ynea,” he said kindly. “Kayli’s healthy and strong, and the journey won’t be all that rough, either.”

“In the horse clans, ladies with child ride till their birth spasms begin,” Endra added. “I myself don’t encourage such a thing, but there’ll be no reining in my lady until her belly becomes a misery to her. Don’t worry, High Lord, I’ll tend the lady as carefully as if she was my own daughter. So don’t start troubling yourself now, else you’ll have a worrisome few months ahead of you both.”

But if Randon had his way, Kayli would have lain in bed, cosseted like Ynea. He ordered all their meals brought to their quarters, and if she so much as reached for a goblet, he would dash to place it in her hand. At first Kayli found this amusing, then irritating, and finally intolerable; at last she fled Randon’s company whenever she could, slipping out to the yard to exercise the horses with Seba, chatting with Endra and her maids, or merely brooding in the forge. But she did
not
go near the barracks where the freed slaves lived, nor the wing of the castle where Terralt had resumed his residence with his children.

On the night before she left, however, Kayli could not resist the temptation to see Kalendra once more before beginning her journey. She told herself she would only visit the baby briefly and go, but Kalendra was awake and cooing, her rags fresh and her stomach full, and Kayli could not keep from holding the tiny new life, admiring the miniature fingernails and the whorls of one pink ear.

“She’s beautiful, all right.” To Kayli’s dismay, Terralt stood in the doorway, leaning against the door frame.

“I beg your pardon,” Kayli said uncomfortably. “I should have asked your permission—”

“What, to hold my daughter?” Terralt chuckled. “What manner of fool would deny you? As long as you don’t steal her entirely, you’re welcome. More than welcome.” He gave her a lingering glance that brought a flush to her cheeks. “You look good with a baby in your arms.”

“Well, soon enough I will have one of my own.” She laid Kalendra back in her cradle, using the opportunity to put it between Terralt and herself. “I only pray that I will bear children as fine and healthy as yours.”

Terralt reached over the cradle and laid his hand over Kayli’s; a surge of flame raced up her arm and straight to her loins.

“I’m sure they’ll be as beautiful as their mother,” he said

Kayli snatched her hand away too quickly for politeness, but thankfully Terralt did not pursue her around the cradle.

“I must go,” she murmured. “Randon must be looking for me.”

A shadow of irritation passed swiftly across Terralt’s face, followed by a sort of shame.

“Yes, you’d best go,” he said, his expression closed once more. “And good journey to you both.”

Kayli retreated down the hall, only to collide with her husband. Randon stopped, gazing at her rather doubtfully.

“There you are!” he said. “What in the world are you doing here?”

“I was visiting Kalendra,” Kayli said, aware that she was still flushed and, to her disgust, her hands were shaking. “It will be many days before I see her again.”

Randon glanced down the way she had come, and his expression darkened. Kayli heard a door close and knew without looking that Terralt had stepped out into the hall; surely he was standing there with that mocking expression she so hated, daring Randon to think what he would.

“Go on back and finish packing,” Randon said, his voice cool now. “I need to give Terralt some final instructions before we leave.”

Kayli almost ran back to her room, burying her confusion in activity as she supervised her maids packing her trunks. The supervision was absolutely necessary; since Ynea’s maids had begun serving her, she’d found to her dismay that more servants meant more work, not less. The six Bregondish maids resented the newcomers and their lack of acquaintance with Bregondish dress, hairstyles, and customs; the ten Agrondish maids, who had been longer in the castle and were now in the majority anyway, fancied themselves the more knowledgeable and experienced and forever attempted to “civilize” the others. The two groups could agree on nothing, it seemed, and Kayli was aghast at the amount of time she spent mediating squabbles between them. At last in despair she’d run to Endra, and once again the sturdy midwife had proven equal to the challenge. Now the girls sorted and packed the clothing, exchanging nothing more barbed than sullen glances, although once Kayli caught one of the Agrondish girls trying to substitute lace petticoats for the breech like Bregondish smallclothes.

“Bregondish ladies ride astride their horses, and our gowns are cut to permit this, for even on formal occasions we often ride out to hunt,” Kayli said as patiently as she could to the horrified maid. “Petticoats might be fine for court, but my thighs would soon be chafed raw in the saddle, and it would be horribly immodest, too, were I thrown from my horse.”

“Which of the girls will you want to take with you?” Endra asked abruptly, to Kayli’s dismay. She’d hoped to discuss the matter with Endra in private, for while the idea of taking any of the dainty Agrondish maids was preposterous, they’d certainly protest at being left behind.

“Well, Randon would never forgive me if I left you behind,” Kayli said at last “And I will take Seba, too, to tend the horses and assist you. But it will be a rough journey and an uncomfortable one. Food on the road will likely be poor, and I know from my own journey to Tarkesh that there are no inns on the way. So as I thought I would take only two maids, I will let them choose for themselves who will go and who will stay.” She glanced at the maids, then added, “Of course, they must be able to ride horseback, as the road is too rough for carriages and the wagons must be lightened periodically after such flooding as Agrond has had lately.”

The maids exchanged glances, and to Kayli’s relief and amusement, the Agrondish girls were more than happy to let Anida and Devra make the journey.

By the time Randon returned, the packing was complete, the trunks were carried downstairs, and a good supper awaited them. Endra glanced at Randon’s brooding expression and hurriedly shooed all the girls from the room, following them out.

Randon did not so much as glance at the supper laid out on the table, but walked directly to Kayli, gazing narrowly into her eyes.

“Is there anything,” he said, “you’d like to tell me?”

Kayli set her hands on her hips, breathing deeply to calm herself.

“Regarding what, my lord?”

“Terralt.” Randon’s eyes searched hers. “And you.”

“Then yes, there is,” Kayli said deliberately. “And it is this: For what you are thinking, you are not only a fool, but a villain as well. And that is
all
I have to tell you.”

Before Randon could reply, she strode past him and out of the room, slamming the door behind her with unnecessary force. For a time she was too furious to think, and her anger had carried her up the stairs to the roof battlements before she knew where she was going. Only two guards walked patrol on the roof, and when they saw their High Lady’s expression, like Endra, they chose flight as the safer course. Kayli picked a good vantage point and stared out over Tarkesh, saying nothing, but she ground her teeth till her jaws ached and clenched her hands until her nails bit into her palms.

How dared Randon suspect her of infidelity when he himself had sired at least one bastard child on his brother’s wife! How dare he think such a thing when she had left her home and ambitions behind to marry him and endangered her life—no, her very soul—to bear him the child he needed? Any offense he had ever offered her paled beside this calumny.

Yet why then did Kayli feel guilt, even through her anger? She had done nothing wrong. Nothing. Yet there was that fire when Terralt touched her. And there was the kiss. Kayli had done nothing to provoke it, of that she was certain—but she had kept silent instead of telling Randon. And her silence was a lie of sorts.

Footsteps behind her. Kayli sighed and was silent; she recognized Randon’s tread, and regardless of whatever guilt she might feel, the Flame would burn her to ash before she was the one to apologize. Whatever wrong she
had
done—if, indeed, any wrong
had
been done—was nothing beside Randon’s implicit accusation.

Randon leaned against the battlements a little distance from Kayli, and for a long time he said nothing, only staring out at Tarkesh just as she did.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last, and his voice was weary, very weary, and tinged with shame as well. “At the same time, you have to understand something. We’re not an ordinary husband and wife. If I have one doubt, my council has six doubts, and the city of Tarkesh has thousands.”

Kayli recited a calming ritual in her mind before she spoke.

“If the citizens of Tarkesh or our advisers have a concern about my fidelity, that is one matter,” she said. “But you sleep at my side every night and then believe I would betray you. You entrust your half-brother with your throne and yet believe he would lie with your wife. Is trust nothing but a game, a test to you? Well, I will not play this game, Randon. I will not take this test. Believe what you will, and when our child is born, perhaps the color of its hair or its eyes will reassure you.”

“All right.” Randon sighed. “All right. I suppose I earned that. But I was born a High Lord’s son, Kayli, and raised at court. Games are a way of life, and trust is hard to come by. I’m still learning.”

“At least you try,” Kayli said, sighing. “I have not given my temper such rein since I was a child.” She shook her head. “Strange. When I left the Order, I thought it would be the duties of a High Lady that would tax me. I had never thought it would be so strange, so difficult, to be a wife.”

Randon chuckled.

“Do you know, I’ve had similar thoughts,” he said. “But to be honest, I wonder if we find it so difficult only because we’ve had so little opportunity to practice. Perhaps with time it’ll get easier.”

Kayli nodded, but inwardly she thought that Randon was wrong. High Priestess Brisi had always said that outward change, no matter how sweeping, could only begin from within. And nothing would be resolved tonight, here on the roof of the castle.

“Let’s go in,” Randon said at last, rather awkwardly, when Kayli remained silent. “Our supper’s no doubt cold by now, but it’s the last good kitchen-prepared meal we’ll have for some days.” A little hesitantly, he offered his arm; after a slight hesitation of her own, Kayli took it.

To Kayli’s amusement, supper was not cold, but gone; someone, probably Endra, had had it taken back downstairs. But almost as soon as Randon touched the bell cord, a maid appeared with a fresh tray and a flask of wine. Cook had surpassed himself, and somehow the sweet wine and the dainty meal cheered Kayli immensely. Cook was saying, in his subtle way, that they would be missed, and Kayli was deeply grateful for that kindness.