Hawkmistress! (55 page)

“I could not sleep-” Romilly protested.

“At least, then, rest a little,” Carolin commanded, and Romilly bent her bead.

“As you will.”

Jandria took her to the tent of the Swordswomen, then, and found her food and fresh clothing.

“And washing-water and a comb,” Romilly begged, so Jandria brought her hot water from the army’s mess fires, and Romilly washed, combed out her tangled hair - Jandria, who helped her, finally had to cut it very short - and climbed gratefully into the clean soft underlinen and fresh tunic and breeches. She had no boots except the countrywoman’s, but she put clean stockings on her feet under them. What a relief it was, to be clean, dressed, to eat cooked food, to be human… .

“And now you must rest,” Jandria said, “Carolin commanded it. I promise you, I will have you called at the midnight hour.”

Romilly lay down beside Jandria on the blanket roll. The light of the waning moon came into the tent, and Romilly thought, with a great sadness, of Ranald lying beside her when last the moons were full. Now he was dead, and it seemed so bitter, so useless. She had not loved him, but he had been kind to her, and she had first accepted him as a man, and she knew she would remember him and mourn for him a little, forever. Jandria lay silent at her side, but she knew that Jandria, too, mourned; not only because of Orain’s peril, but for Lyondri Hastur who had once been to her what Ranald was to Romilly herself, the first to rouse womanhood and desire. And she could not even think of him with the sweet sadness of the dead; he had gone further from her, become a monster - she put her arms around Jandria, and felt the woman shaking with grief.

There has been so much sorrow, all useless. In my pride, I too have brought grief on those who have done me no harm. I will do my uttermost to save Orain from the fate they have measured for him; it looks hopeless, but not all porridge cooked is eaten. But whichever way it goes, if I am alive at dawn I shall send word to Father and Luciella that I live and they must not grieve for me.

Jandria’s sorrow is worse than mine. Orain, if he dies, I will mourn, because he was my friend and because he died nobly for Carolin, whom he loves. But who could mourn, or have any feeling except relief, if Lyondri can do no more evil?

She held Jandria’s sobbing body in her arms, and at last felt her drop away into sleep.

She had slept for an hour or two, when Jandria shook her shoulder softly.

“Get up, Romilly. It is time.”

Romilly splashed her face with cold water, and ate a little more bread, but she refused wine. For this she must be perfectly alert. Carolin was waiting for her in his tent, his face composed and grim. He said, “I hardly need tell you that if you free Orain - or save him any more suffering, even if you must put your own dagger through his heart - you may name your own reward, even if you wish to marry one of my own sons.”

She smiled at the thought; why should she wish to do that? She said, speaking as if he were the Dom Carlo she had first known, “Uncle, I will do what I can for Orain because he was kind to me beyond all duty when he thought me only a runaway hawkmaster’s apprentice. Do you not think a Swordswoman and a MacAran will risk herself as well for honor as from greed?”

“I know it,” Carolin said gently, “but I will reward you for my own pleasure, too, Romilly.”

She turned to Jandria. “The boots will make too much noise. Find me a pair of soft sandals, if you will.” When Jandria had brought a pair of her own - they were too big, but Romilly bound them tightly on her feet - she tied her hair into a dark cloth, so that no stray gleam would give her away, and smeared her face with dirt so that it would not shine in a watchman’s lantern. Now she could go noiselessly into the city, and she feared no sentry-bird nor dog. At this hour, certainly, all but a few men would be sleeping.

Alderic said in a tone that brooked no denial, “I will go with you to the side gate.”

She nodded. He too had a touch of this laran. She held his hand, silently, as they stole on their soft shoes away from Carolin’s tent, making a wide circle away from the gates. Somewhere a dog barked; probably, she thought, sending out a questing tendril of awareness, at a mouse in the streets; but she silenced him anyway, sending out thoughts of peace and drowsiness…

“The gate will creak if you try to open it, even if you can quiet the sentry-birds,” whispered Alderic, and without a word, made a stirrup of his hand as if he helped her to mount a tall horse; she caught at the top of the small side-gate and climbed to the top, looking down on the sleeping city by moonlight.

She sent out her thoughts to the sentry-birds, sending out peace, quiet, silence … she could see them on the walls now, great ugly shapes with their handlers, like statues against the sky. A disturbance and they would scream, awakening all of Rakhal’s armies….

Peace, Peace, silence … through their eyes she looked down at the moon-flooded streets, which lay dark, with only, now and again, a single lighted window … one after another she reached out to investigate them. Ordinary laran was clouded, but reaching into the minds of animals, she could feel silence … behind one lighted window, a woman struggled to give birth to a child and a midwife knelt, holding her hands and whispering encouragement. A mother sat beside a sick child, singing in a voice hoarse with worry and weariness. A man wounded somewhere in the war tossed with the fever in the stump on his leg….

A dog snarled from a side street, and Romilly knew it would burst into a frenzy of barking … she reached out, silenced it, felt its bewilderment, where had the disturbing one gone… ? She crept silently past.

Now she was far from the walls, the sentry-birds silent. Would they have thought to guard the rest of the city against laran? Or had it stretched the few leronyn at Rakhal’s command, to guard the gates, so that they were open inside the city?

Carefully, ready to retreat at a moment’s touch, she reached out … Orain had little laran, she knew, but he was not head-blind and she could feel him somewhere; he lay wakeful with the pain of his injuries … she must not let him feel her presence; he might be monitored by Rakhal’s or Lyondri’s sorcerers. Yet she moved, softly, nearer to him, block by block of the ancient city, and as she stole quietly through, no dog barked, no mouse in the walls squeaked aloud. Silence, silence, peace on the city. Horses drowsed in their stables, cats left off chasing mice and dozed before hearths, restless babies quieted under the powerful spell; from one end to the other of the ancient city of Hali, no living soul felt anything but peace and silence. Even the woman in labor fell into a peaceful sleep, and the midwife dozed at her side.

Peace, calm, silence….

Outside a silent house near the opposite wall - she had traversed the whole city in her entranced spell - Romilly became aware of the two minds she had touched before. Orain; Orain lay within, somnolent under the sleep-spell that she had put on all things, but through it she could feel pain, fear, despair, a hope that perhaps he could somehow manage to die. Carefully, carefully, she thrust out a tendril of thought….

Keep silence, do not move or stir lest someone be alerted when you wake… .

The door creaked, but so still was all within that the sleeping man outside Orain’s door did not stir. Beyond him, in an inner room, she sensed the stony wall of Lyondri Hastings thoughts - he too was deeply troubled. The dreadful thing is that Lyondri is not a cruel man by nature. He will not even watch the torturer who does his beastly work. He does this only for power!

His thoughts seemed to quest out, seeking an intruder… Romilly quickly submerged her own mind in that of a cat, sleeping across the hearth, and after a moment Lyondri Hastur slept… the watchman drowsed…

Even if 1 kill him too swiftly for him to cry out - Romilly’s hands tightened on the dagger in her belt, his death-cry even in thought - will waken Lyondri! But perhaps he would stop at killing Orain with his own hands….

She must. There was no help for it. Then she realized that the watchmen was more deeply asleep than she, with her soothing consciousness extended throughout the whole city, could have managed; and felt another mind touch hers. Then there was a soft movement behind her, and she whirled, alert, dagger in hand-

“Don’t kill me, Romilly,” Caryl whispered. He was wearing a white child’s night-gown, and his fair hair was tousled as if he had come from his bed. He reached out and gripped her in a great hug … but not for one moment did the spell relax….

“Oh, Romilly, Romilly - I pleaded with my father, but he would not hear me - I cannot bear it, what they are doing to Orain - it - it hurts me too - have you come to take him away?” His whisper was all but inaudible. If Lyondri Hastur stirred in his sleep, and touched his son’s mind, he would think him gripped in nightmare.

And Lyondri Hastur did this where his son could know of it, feel it.

“He said it would harden me to the necessity of being cruel sometimes, when the good of the realm demands it,” Caryl whispered, almost inaudibly, “I am - I am sickened - I did not think my father could do this-” and he struggled to hold back tears, knowing that would waken his father too …

Romilly nodded. She said, “Help me quiet the dogs as I go…”

But she could not take Orain sleeping. Silently, she stole past the sleeping watchman.

The torturer. He is worse than any brute; his mind is an animal’s mind, otherwise I could not so easily enspell him….

“Orain-” she whispered, and her hand went out to grip his mouth silent against an involuntary cry. Remember you are dreaming this. …

Orain knew instantly what she meant; if Lyondri wakened or his slumber lightened, he would think he wandered in dreams… . Softly, moving as noiselessly as Romilly herself, he drew himself to his feet. One of them was bleeding through a rough bandage. She had not seen the cut-off finger. But she fought to suppress her horror, to keep the sleep-spell strong, as he moved softly across the room, forced his feet, wincing, into his boots.

“I would not leave that man alive-” he whispered, glancing with implacable hate at his jailer, but he sensed, so close they were in rapport, Romilly’s reason for not killing him, and contributed a single wry thought:

When Lyondri wakes and finds me escaped while he slept, what he will do to the man will be worse than your dagger through his heart; for mercy I should kill the man! But 1 am not kind enough for that.

The smell of the air told Romilly that dawn was nearing; she would soon have to contend with dogs waking all over the city, with the sentry-birds on the wall rousing, and if they did not waken at the proper time, that too would alert their handlers; they must be free of the city before then. She took Orain’s shoulder. His hand, too, was wrapped in rough bandages, and there was a patch over the cut-off ear which had bled through. But he was not seriously harmed, and came silently after her. Now they were outside the house, and she came aware that Caryl was following them on noiseless feet, in his nightgown.

“Go back!” She whispered, and shook the boy’s shoulder. “I cannot be responsible!”

“I will not return!” His voice was stubborn and set “He is no longer my father; I would be worse than he is, to stay with him.” She saw that great silent tears were rolling down his face, but he insisted, “I can help you quiet the guards.”

She nodded and signalled him to steady Orain, who was limping. Now she must quiet pain, keep the tumult of his thoughts and emotions under her own, and … yes, she must let the birds wake normally, with ordinary cries, elsewhere in the city, while keeping those near here safely entranced until they had somehow made their escape.

They had reached the side gate. Caryl set a hand on the latch and the lock gave way and swung open. There was a horrendous creaking from the broken lock, a sound of tortured metal and wood that rent the sky; everywhere, it seemed, there was an uproar from the walls, but they dropped all caution and ran, ran hurriedly through the camp and the forming army, ran toward Carolin’s tents … and then Carolin caught Orain in his arms, weeping aloud in relief and joy, and Romilly turned and hugged Caryl tight.

“We’re safe, we’re safe - oh, Caryl, we could never have done it without you.”

Carolin turned a little and opened his arms to clasp Romilly and Caryl in the same hug that encircled his friend.

“Listen,” Orain said, “The racket - they know I am gone.”

“Yet our army is here to guard you,” said Carolin quietly. “They shall not touch you again, my brother, if our lives answer for it. But now, I think, they will have to surrender; I will not burn my people’s city over their heads, but I will spare any man who makes his submission and swears loyalty to me. I think Rakhal and Lyondri will find few partisans this morning.” He felt Orain flinch as the embrace touched the bandage over his ear.

“My brother, let me have your wounds tended.”

He brought him into the tent, and Maura and Jandria hastened to attend Orain. While the hacked fingers and ear were bandaged, Carolin sat blinking back tears in the lamplight

“How can we reward you, Romilly?”

“There is no need of reward,” she said. Now it was over, she was shaking, and glad to feel Alderic’s arm supporting her, holding a wine-cup to her lips. “It is enough that now my lord Orain knows-” she did not know what she was going to say until she heard herself saying it, “that even though I am only a girl, I have no less courage or worth than any boy!”