Firewalk (5 page)

“I thank you, Endra, but Maja and I are only just becoming friends again.” Kayli laughed. “She’s borne me patiently all day; now the least I can do is tend her myself.” In truth it
was
pleasant to stretch her legs as she walked the mare, and the tasks of wiping dry the tack and brushing the horse were a sweet reminder of her chores at the temple. Working with her hands under the setting sun, in the sweet-smelling, clean breeze of the plains gave her a sense of place in the order of things, and with a lighter heart Kayli joined Endra at the fire the midwife had built in front of her tent.

The aroma of roasting meat drifted over from the main fire, and Kayli sighed. She’d begun her fast the night before, less than a sevenday after she’d just finished the modified fast for her first firewalk. Already her stomach was achingly empty after her day’s ride. Endra had put a piece of the plains deer to boil over their fire with herbs; the pot liquor was all Kayli could eat until her Awakening—if, indeed, she reminded herself, her Awakening ever took place.

That thought alone was enough to kill her appetite, and Kayli, ignoring Endra and the maids, slid quietly into her hide tent. Kayli untied her jaffs and laid them aside, then unbuckled the straps tightening the tops of her high boots to hold in the bottoms of her trousers, and laid her boots and stockings aside as well, sighing with relief as she pulled off her scarf and shook her braids free. Now she could stop pretending to be Kayli the noble lady, and simply be Kayli the Dedicate again.

But was she? The temple lay far behind her and there was no promise now that an Awakening awaited her. Now the noble lady was as real, at least, as the Dedicate. Who was it standing here in her bare feet and riding clothes, freed of all masks? Was it either, or both, or some other Kayli who had not existed for the thirteen years since she’d first set foot in the Temple of Inner Flame?

“My lady?” Terralt called from just outside her tent flap. “I would speak with you. May I come in?”

Once more Kayli swallowed her irritation. Come in indeed, as if any honorable maiden of noble birth would entertain a man in her tent alone!

“You may
not,”
she said sternly. “I will come out.” She strode out just as she was, barefoot and with her thirty-nine thin black braids hanging over her shoulders and back.

Terralt raised one eyebrow and nodded with mocking admiration as his eyes swept insolently over Kayli. He held a platter containing a steaming leg of meat.

“Your pardon, my lady.” He grinned. “I see that I’ve disturbed you. But the guards are complaining endlessly of their cut legs and I remembered my lady’s kind offer earlier today. Also my guards’ fire is no place for your gentle ladies, so I thought I’d bring some of the meat here.”

“A kindly gesture, and one for which we are most grateful,” Kayli said politely, averting her eyes from the food. One of the maids hurriedly took the platter and whisked it away. “Endra, Terralt’s guards need jaffs for the remainder of our journey through Bregond. As you and the maids are riding in the wagons, I offered to share ours. Will you gather what we have and see if the ties can be lengthened?”

“Aye, lady,” Endra said, nodding. “I’ll make a salve; too, else swordgrass cuts will fester.” She started to turn away, then hesitated, glancing at Terralt. “If there’s nothing more, lady—”

“No, thank you, Endra,” Kayli said, nodding reassuringly. To her discomfort, Terralt followed her to the fire; the maids hastily retired, laying out cushions for Kayli and Terralt to sit on. Anida alone remained, settling down a discreet distance away.

Terralt speared a piece of meat on his dagger, raising his black eyebrows again as Kayli filled a cup with broth and sat down on one of the cushions.

“Thin soup?” He chuckled. “Are you fasting, or merely afraid that I’ve poisoned your meat?”

“If I thought that, I would scarcely let my maids eat of it,” Kayli said practically. “But I am indeed fasting, until my wedding day.”

“But that’s five days’ ride at the best speed the wagons can make,” Terralt said, surprised, for once without mockery. “You’ll be gaunt as a stick. Whatever I think of my brother, I’d not have Randon say I’ve abused his bride.”

“Then you can tell him you are no master of mine, and that I refused the food you offered,” Kayli said serenely. “I am well accustomed to fasting on occasion, sometimes for longer than this. I will not starve in five days, and even if I did,” she added mockingly, “would that not only further your own cause?”

“Indeed it wouldn’t,” Terralt snapped. “What support would any lord in Agrond give a man with no better honor than to starve a woman in his charge?”

Kayli was silent. She had made the remark to provoke a reaction, but it was not the one she had expected. Now she wondered again why Lord Randon had sent his brother on this journey. Was it to test Terralt’s loyalty? Or was it, perhaps, a test of Kayli herself? Whose game was being played here?

“So you said you had studied magic,” Terralt said presently. “What magic have you learned?”

Kayli heard the challenge in his voice and set down her cup. She closed her eyes and completed the brief meditation to clear her thoughts, then reached forward into the fire. She withdrew her hand, opening it to show Terralt the red coal on her palm, then tossed the lump back into the flames.

“Impressive,” Terralt admitted. “But what purpose does it serve?”

“No purpose,” Kayli said, shrugging. “It is but a test of sorts. Anyone could learn as much with the proper teaching, mage or not. But what must I prove?”

“I didn’t ask for idle curiosity,” Terralt said impatiently. “Soon we’ll be crossing border lands where Sarkondish raiders often strike, both in Agrond and Bregond. If any spies noted the messengers passing back and forth, or saw me and my guards on our way to Bregond, raiding parties may be preparing an ambush. A mage could be useful in a fight.”

“I am not a mage,” Kayli admitted. “Not yet. I left the temple before I had progressed so far in my training. Endra knows a few simple healing magics, though. She trained as a midwife in one of the healing orders, although her gift of magic was not sufficient for her Dedication.”

Terralt shrugged dismissively.

“Can you at least use that dagger at your hip?”

Kayli touched the sheath.

“This is a
thari,
a ceremonial dagger, not meant for battle,” she said. “My training at the temple left no time for schooling in the warrior’s art. But I am practiced with my bow, and my maids can fight with bow or sword if there is need.”

The words came hard; how disgraceful, to hide behind the swords of her maids when the Order had stressed self-reliance above all else. That was, of course, why only the truly gifted were Dedicated to the temple; the pace of study left no time for learning the equally demanding art of swordplay, or of mastering any other trade by which they might support themselves. Only Kayli’s aptitude for hunting and the Order’s need for game to supplement their small herd had allowed Kayli to maintain her skill with horse and bow.

Terralt only shook his head, as if disappointed.

“Your father offered troops to escort us to the border.” He sighed. “I should have accepted. But we would have been delayed while he mustered the men, supplies, and wagons, and a larger caravan would be all the more noticeable. I thought haste more important.”

Kayli shrugged and sipped her broth.

“As a precaution, I will have the horses I brought saddled,” she said. “All of my maids can ride, and if necessary we could abandon the wagons and make good speed.”

“Abandon the—” Terralt choked, coughed, and spat out his mouthful of meat. “Abandon the wagons! Your entire dowry and eight wagons of gifts and trade goods, abandon them!”

Kayli suppressed a flare of irritation. Let Terralt die defending gifts and trade goods if he liked. She and her maids would show better sense.

Terralt was still shaking his head.

“Likely there’s no real danger,” he said, but Kayli thought he said it more to convince himself than her. “Even if Sarkondish patrols noticed the activity at the border, there’s been no time for them to put together troops for a strike against so large a caravan. As long as we continue to make a good pace we should be safe enough.”

Kayli frowned, but kept her thoughts to herself. If Sarkondish patrols had noted the messengers riding back and forth between Agrond and Bregond over the last months, they would have
plenty
of time to mass troops near the borders in case the messengers heralded a military alliance. The days since Terralt and his caravan had crossed the border would be an ample interval to ready those troops for an ambush. And if Sarkond could take the High Lord of Bregond’s daughter captive—Kayli touched her
thari.
No. That, at least, they would never do.

A sudden thought chilled Kayli. Did Terralt covet the throne of Agrond desperately enough to strike a bargain with Sarkond, to coordinate an “ambush” which would eliminate the bride who would solidify Lord Randon’s claim, while still leaving his own hands apparently clean?

Or, a more insidious thought, could Randon himself be trusted? Why
had
he sent Terralt on this mission? Might he not have dealt with Sarkond himself? An ambush might rid him of his rival for the throne and, at the same time, the bride that his father’s bargain had bound him to. Freed of an alliance unpopular to the people of Agrond, he might gain additional support among the lords of his country, especially with the obstacle of his half-brother removed.

Kayli must have shivered, for Terralt leaned toward her, draping his cloak around her shoulders.

“My lady, you seem to be growing chilled,” he said with mock solicitousness. “Shall we move closer to the fire?”

“Thank you for your concern, but no,” Kayli said. “I am only tired. I trust you will pardon me if I retire now.”

“But of course.” Terralt took her hand and kissed it, his eyes mockingly warm. “Dream sweetly, my lady.”

This time Kayli was too preoccupied for annoyance; she bowed briefly in acknowledgment and hurried back into her tent. She drew her
thari
and contemplated the sparkling blade soberly. Since she’d left the Order she’d whetted it to an edge that could cut a breath in two. It was a sacred tool, consecrated to the Flame. Could she bring herself to use it to kill?

Endra poked her head in through the tent flap.

“Lady, Anida said the lord had gone,” she said. “Is there anything you need of me?”

Kayli nodded.

“Endra, I want you and each of the maids to prepare packs of the most important of our belongings, together with bows and daggers and swords if they have them, and food and water. Keep those packs at hand every moment, day and night.” She told Endra of her discussion with Terralt. “If there should be any danger, you and the maids must take horses and ride for home, or the border of Agrond, whichever is safer. They mustn’t hesitate; I will be fleeing as quickly as they, and I will need them by my side if we find ourselves without troops to protect us.”

“I’ll see to each pack myself, lady,” Endra promised. “But I say plainly, I’ll not ride one step unless it’s at your side, and I doubt the maids could say different without lying.”

Kayli sighed, but she had expected no different, not really. When Endra had gone, Kayli packed her own satchel, adding as an afterthought her jewelry and her purse. If she found herself far from home, those valuables would purchase food and protection.

When she’d made her preparations, Kayli lay down on her pallet. Despite her anxiety, she found herself drowsy—no wonder, with all the excitement of the last few days! The pallet on the firm ground, too, was comfortingly like her pallet at the Order, to which she was far more accustomed than she’d been to the soft bed at home. Even her hunger was no barrier; the Flame knew she’d fasted often enough at the Order.

Kayli was asleep so quickly, she barely noticed Endra entering the tent and laying her own pallet protectively across the opening.

Chapter Three

Kayli sighed, rubbing her eyes. Other parts of her body ached more, but she would not rub those in front of Terralt.

For three days now Terralt had set as hard a pace as the draft horses pulling the wagons could endure. Kayli was tired from the continual riding, weak from hunger and the purgative potions, and weary of the need, for constant vigilance against Sarkondish raiders, against treachery by Terralt. Now they were passing out of Bregondish lands into Agrond, and homesickness clutched at Kayli’s heart.

The tall, wholesome gold plains grasses slowly gave way to shorter, greener growth, the shrubs and brambles to bushes and occasional trees. Streams crossed their path repeatedly, forcing detours to find fords for the wagons. No rain had fallen yet, but clouds had been gathering all afternoon, and Kayli was wretchedly certain that a good drenching could not be far away.

Terralt had made it his practice to send some of the guards ahead as scouts to be sure no Sarkondish troops were lying in ambush. Where there was heavier growth—thick clumps of bushes and trees lining the streams, for example—the entire caravan had to halt while scouts combed the brush before Terralt would move on. Kayli was too tired to fret at the delays.

“Had enough, my lady?” Terralt grinned, pulling his horse to a stop beside her. “I think we all have. It’s a little early, but I’ll call a halt.”

Kayli could not manage to muster any embarrassment that Terralt had witnessed her weakness; she only slid from her horse and let Anida take Maja’s reins. Tonight she must play the pampered lady; her weariness left her no choice.

When the maids had erected her tent, Kayli collapsed onto her pallet, sighing with relief. She had fasted many times before, sometimes for far longer, but never so soon after another fast, never with so many cleansing potions, and never when she had to exert herself so strenuously. Hunger made her weak; the potions made her dizzy and nauseous, and the exertion left her unbearably tired. She had begun to wonder whether she might not be wise to ride in the wagon after all. Terralt would undoubtedly gloat, but did it really matter?