Lord of Avalon (9 page)

They rode on, the sun beginning to fall low on the horizon.
Just after sunset, when the light diffused through the darkening forest, making
Rydah fear for wild beasts, Darikani stopped.

“We’re just north of the farm,” he spoke in low tones.
“Soldiers have searched the farmhouse already and haven’t found the Acolyte.
But as we approach, we have to be very careful for there might be more patrols.
If they spot us now, they’ll know something is up.”

Rydah followed along behind the man as he rode through the
trees. He wondered how Darikani could see in the gloom, but apparently he had
been this way many times. They came to the edge of the forest and looked out
across a field of
paplet
, a grain used in bread-making. Ahead, Rydah
could see a small farmhouse and a few outbuildings. Candlelight flickered from
the windows.

“Stay here, Damon. I will ride up and make sure it’s safe.”

Rydah, fearful of being left alone at the edge of the dark
woods, almost spoke up, then bit his tongue. This wasn’t what he had expected
when he decided to help his brother! Intrigue, disguises, murderous patrols—he
was in way over his head.

He watched, trembling, as the Craftsman disappeared into the
darkness ahead of him. His horse snorted, startling him. Rydah wanted to spur
him forward, just to get away from the trees, where he imagined long arms of
vicious creatures reaching out to him.

He waited five
lapars
, then dismounted and walked a
short ways ahead, into the field, just to give him a little space from the
trees. He stood there, going over in his mind some of the documents he’d edited
for Bandar. They had always been uplifting words, full of hope and love—that
the high priest could condone murder seemed impossible. Bandar would be as
shocked as Rydah had been to find out what his guards were doing. Perhaps he
should be told…

Horse hooves alerted him of a rider’s approach. He held
still, fearful it was a passing patrol. Soon, Darikani rode up out of the gloom
and dismounted.

“It’s safe, m’lord, but we must hurry. The Acolyte doesn’t
want to stay any longer. He plans to confront his father.”

Rydah mounted up and they rode toward the lights. A man came
out to take their horses. They went in without knocking on the door.

Inside the small one-room hut were four people. A hunched
woman that Rydah took to be Memma’s illegitimate sister, Athela, and a short
overweight man wearing the tunic of the Merchant class stood near the old
fieldstone fireplace. But his eyes did not stay long on them. Acolyte Lepdar,
wearing the magnificent cloak of the highest order of Damon, stood in the
center of the room, tall and proud. His long wavy hair was tied back, as was
the custom when riding. The Acolyte looked tired. Rydah wished he’d brought his
Damon cloak with him. He worried he might be considered unworthy to be in the
Acolyte’s presence.

Sitting at the table was his step-niece, Symal, looking
small. “Lord Rydah!” she exclaimed, putting a hand over her mouth.

Rydah hadn’t seen her in two
rynes
, but she looked
much the same: dark hair, beautiful face, wide-set eyes that men could lose
themselves in. Only now, she had filled out into the full bloom of womanhood.

“Damon?” The Acolyte said, suspicious, taking in his garb.

“Yes, m’lord,” Rydah said, bowing. “I am Lord Rydah, son of
Fyrad, brother of Farda, at your service. Forgive my humble appearance.”

Acolyte Lepdar relaxed slightly. “No need to apologize. I’m
sorry you’ve come all this way. I solved no problems by running from my father.
I’ve decided to return and tell him I will not marry Princess Wenelle. My heart
belongs to your niece, Symal.”

Rydah glanced at his niece and noticed she had been crying.

“I’ve come at my brother’s request to see if we can’t figure
out some way to avoid trouble for everyone,” he said, picking his words
carefully. “I fear that Symal might fall out of favor with your father.”

If being thrown in prison and possibly beheaded is
“falling out of favor,” then yes,
he thought
.

The Acolyte shook his head. “I will let nothing befall
Symal. She is safe from reprisals.”

Rydah thought of the Harpton’s farmhouse, not far from here.
Was she really safe from Bandar’s anger? Or Kendam’s?

“Sire, before you make your decision, could you tell me what
it is that your father demands?”

Rydah knew most of the story, but perhaps there was
something he was missing, some tidbit of information that might help him come
up with a solution.

The Acolyte sighed, then nodded. “Sit down, Damon.” He sat
next to Symal, and took her hand. “I’ll tell you what my father is trying to
achieve by forcing me to marry that bluta.” Rydah tried not to smile at the
Acolyte’s characterization of Princess Wenelle.

“As you may know, Blethryn vies with High Lord Narzdal of
the Caspan region for the mining riches of Couldar, which lies between our two
priestdoms. We’re negotiating with them, but talks are going slow. Meanwhile,
our spies tell us Narzdal is plotting behind the scenes to obtain an advantage.

“Narzdal’s army isn’t as large as my father’s, so he would
dare not attack us on his own. But Narzdal’s cousin is none other than Wenelle’s
father, High Lord Syran, who controls the Garspar region to the north. So far,
Syran has resisted his cousin’s entreaties that they combine armies. While
Narzdal tells him it would only be to help in the negotiations, Syran fears it
could lead to an all-out war.”

Rydah’s mind raced as he absorbed the intrigue behind the
thrones.

“Syran has no desire to take on my father,” Lepdar
continued. “In order not to offend Narzdal, he secretly contacted my father
through intermediaries. Together they arranged the marriage between his
daughter and me. Once the wedding takes place, Syran can truthfully tell his
cousin that he could not go against his son-in-law’s family and upset his
daughter.”

The Acolyte paused to stroke Symal’s cheek. “Their plan is
brilliant—except for one thing. No one asked
me
what I thought of
marrying Wenelle. I’ve only met her once and I can’t imagine being married to
her. She is a simpering, giggling, shallow woman, certainly not worthy to share
my portion of the priestdom, small though it may be.”

The Acolyte turned back to Rydah. “When they presented their
plan to me, I had been trying to figure out how to ask my father for permission
to marry the daughter of a Craftsman, a delicate matter, to be sure.” He smiled
ruefully. “I thought I could eventually convince him of my true love for
Symal.” He nodded to Rydah. “And that her step-father used to be a Damon would
work in her favor.

“I admit I panicked when my father told me I had to marry
the princess for the good of the priestdom. I knew my brother had done that,
but somehow I thought that I would be allowed to marry whomever I chose, since
I was not heir. I remember stammering out a tepid response, then I fled at the
earliest opportunity. I evaded the palace guards and rode straight to your
brother’s house to speak to Symal.

“I didn’t realize what a stir my disappearance would cause.
No sooner had I reached Symal, I heard that guards were out in force, looking
for me. They gave me no time! I took Symal and ran.” He looked embarrassed.
“Not a very Noble action, to be sure. I just didn’t know what else to do.”

Rydah kept quiet, his mind racing. He didn’t see any way
out.

“I’ve come to realize I have to face my father and tell him
I’ve found the girl I want to marry.” He took Symal’s hand. “I should’ve done
this as soon as they told me about the arranged marriage. I’m sorry you’ve come
all this way for nothing. In the morning, I will ride out alone to find a
guardsman and tell him Symal and I need escort back to Blethryn.”

Rydah could see the trap tightening around Symal. “Your
father is very angry,” he said. “He’s worried about you. He might take out his
anger on Symal.”

“No, no. He wouldn’t. I wouldn’t allow it! Trust me, Symal
will be safe.”

“Do you think your father will allow the agreement with
Syran to disappear? To let Syran join forces with Narzdal? To go to war over
Couldar?” Rydah watched the Acolyte’s face for clues.

“I don’t know,” Lepdar said. “They’ll just have to think of
another way.”

Rydah again thought of the Harpton farm. Was the Acolyte’s
father capable of such iron resolve? Would he risk alienating his own son in
order to secure the agreement with Syran?

Rydah’s mind raced. In his mind’s eye, he could see the
pained expression of his slave, who sacrificed herself to give him time to
solve this problem. He had no idea what to do.

“Lord Rydah.” Rydah’s head snapped up.

“Yes, my Acolyte.”

“Why have you come? I know you are Farda’s brother, but what
do you think you can you do?”

“I’m not sure, my Acolyte. My brother thought that as a
Damon, as he once was, I might offer some assistance.”

“Can you?” He seemed genuinely interested. Or maybe just
desperate.

“I’m not sure, sire. I need time to sort it all out.”

He sighed. “Time, unfortunately, is something that is in
short supply.” He rose. “I’m sorry you’ve wasted your long journey.” He turned
to the smaller man. “Natrus, we’ll be leaving in the morning. I’ll make sure no
harm comes to you for harboring me and Symal.”

Rydah panicked. That he could come all this way and
disappoint everyone seemed impossible to accept. “Sire!” he blurted.

The Acolyte stopped. “Yes?”

Something came to him, something he didn’t quite understand.
He remembered a question Jenya had asked. “Princess Wenelle,” he said. “What
does she think of the arranged marriage?”

Lepdar paused. “It’s funny,” he said. “But the bluta has a
man she loves as well! She was no more interested in me than I was in her! Can
you imagine? That she could prefer one of her slow-witted Farzan men over the
High Acolyte of Blethryn?”

Rydah suddenly staggered with the threads of an idea.
Something he read once came back to him. It was a wisp, a chimera. He wasn’t
sure of the details, far from it, but it was a start.

“Acolyte Lepdar,” he begged. “Please…let me implore you.
There may be something that can be done. But I need to do some research. I must
return to Blethryn. I apologize for not thinking of it sooner. Please, can you
stay here for two more suns until I can return?”

The Acolyte’s face darkened. “No. I will not hide from my
father like some wayward boy. The High Acolyte of Blethryn does not scurry from
the light.” He turned to Symal. Seeing the tears forming in her eyes, he
stopped, then reached out to touch her face. Rydah could tell he truly loved
her.

“I am concerned about Symal, of course,” he admitted. He
turned back to Rydah. “Tell me what you can of this research.” He folded his
arms across his chest, as if daring Rydah to convince him.

Rydah blanched. He had no good answer. “High Acolyte Lepdar,
in good conscience I cannot. I deeply apologize. Anything I say might be in
error. I recall reading something in some priestly documents that might help
you. The memories are just too vague right now. Can you wait until I return?”

He sighed. “I’m not sure. I’ve been hiding for many suns
now, and I’m embarrassed. My brother would never have hidden from his fate.” He
brushed away one of Symal’s tears. “For Symal’s sake, I will wait one more sun.
But whatever you come up with, it better be worth the pride and honor that I’m
losing by hiding another sun.”

One sun! Rydah wasn’t sure he could accomplish what he
needed in one sun. He had to ride home, research his files, and return—all
without being spotted by guards. And what of Jenya? He’d have to leave her with
the doctor—she would be in no position to travel. Still, he didn’t feel he had
much choice.

“Very well, my Acolyte. I must leave immediately.” He turned
to Darikani. “I don’t have time to return for my carriage. I must ride back to
Blethryn. Could you collect my carriage and keep my horse safe until I return?”

Darikani, who had been standing in the shadows, watching
quietly as the Damons talked, nodded. “Yes, sire. Leave it to me.”

“Good. I shall return on the morrow.” With that, he turned
and left, his mind a turmoil.

Lord Rydah rode through the night, grateful the darkness
protected him from patrols. He had no idea how he might return in the sunlight
undetected.

The horse carried him at a gallop for three leagues, then
Rydah had to let him rest. They trotted along for a few more leagues, as the
lord tried to remember the document he sought. Could he find it in time? Did it
even exist, or did he remember it incorrectly?

Dawn approached as he entered Blethryn. He urged the horse
on until he reined up outside his house. Dismounting quickly, he tied the horse
to a post and went inside, hoping no one noticed his Craftsman cloak. Along the
wall next to his desk were old documents he had edited. Quickly he began to
thumb through them, searching.

He lost track of time. Papers soon surrounded him, littering
the floor. He had rummaged through half the bookcase before he found what he
had been looking for. He sat, oblivious of his surroundings, as he read and
reread the document.

He heard the horse snorting outside and realized he needed
to give him water before he attempted to ride him back to Balgari. Rydah rose
and found a shallow basin, then dipped it into the fountain in back. Rydah was
startled to see the sun high in the sky. Rand! He must get back!

He came out onto the porch and placed the basin for the
animal. He stood and watched it drink as his mind whirled with ideas. It just
might work, he decided, especially if the plan came from the mouth of Acolyte
Lepdar.

A shout distracted him. He looked up to see the town crier
approaching, making his announcements. Crowds gathered.

“Acolyte Lepdar found!” the boy yelled. “Hiding with a
Craftsman’s daughter! Acolyte being returned to castle!”

Rand’s awful luck! I was so close!

Rydah jumped forward, then stopped. He didn’t know what to
do, where to go. The chances of him getting near the Acolyte again were slim,
he realized. Third-tier Damons just weren’t invited to the palace, especially
during such difficult times.

And what of Symal?

* * * * *

High Lord Bandar paced. “Where is he now?” he demanded. His
full head of white hair was edged with sweat.

The captain of the guard, Malfiseus, bowed for the third
time. “He’s just a few leagues away. He should be here within a
hura
or
two.”

“And what of the girl?”

“She’s been taken on ahead, as you ordered. She will be here
much sooner. The Acolyte put up a terrible fight about it. He’s sworn to have
the heads of the guards who carried out your orders, m’lord.”

Bandar waved his hand. “Not to worry. The guards do what I
tell them to do.” He pointed at Malfiseus. “Have the girl brought to me as soon
as she arrives.”

Malfiseus bowed a final time and escaped.

Bandar turned to Kendam and sighed. “Aren’t you glad you
have no children, my priest? They bring you nothing but heartache.”

Kendam nodded. He was a squat man, less than six
capeks.
His hair had long since thinned, so he wore a dark wig to give the appearance
of full Damon hair. It rankled him, though he never mentioned it. He leaned in
to the High Lord and whispered, “Never fear, m’lord. We will make sure the slut
doesn’t interfere with your plans. She’ll be sorry she every turned the head of
the Acolyte. I have riders speeding to Farzan right now with the message that
the wedding will take place as scheduled.”

“Good. What should we do with her?”

“Leave that to me, m’lord. The less you know of it, the
better.”

* * * * *

Rydah rode hard east once again. His eyelids were heavy,
sleep tugged at him. He’d been up for more than a full sun, yet he rode on,
spurring the tired horse. He had to reach Jenya. He didn’t know why exactly.
Yes, he wanted to know how she was doing, but there was something else. A need
to share his idea with her. He might be able to save the Acolyte and Symal if
he could just figure out how to break through the layers of sycophants and bureaucrats
around the High Lord.

Balgari came into view in the late afternoon. The guards
were absent—they had cleared out as soon as the Acolyte had been found. He
reined the exhausted horse up at the stables and ducked inside. No doubt
Darikani had seen to it that his horse was fed and watered. His carriage sat
right outside. He retrieved his Damon cloak from the tack room and put it on.

He unsaddled the horse and made sure it had food and water,
then took the carriage horse outside and fastened him in place. Doing chores
usually reserved for a Laborer made him feel useful, which was comforting, as
so far, he’d been worth nothing to Symal and Farda.

Climbing aboard, he snapped the reins and pointed the horse
toward Mantaro. It took him another long
hura
to reach the tiny town. He
reined up outside the doctor’s office and went inside.

“Nerat?” Silence greeted him.

Alarmed, he strode into the back room and found Jenya
sleeping on the cot. Rydah’s heart leaped at seeing her safe and sound. He
dropped to one knee at her side and touched her arm.

She came awake instantly and turned. When she saw him, she
gave a small cry and started to open her arms, then stopped. Rydah surprised
even himself when he forgot his station and hugged her instead. They froze in
mid-embrace and separated awkwardly.

“M’lord. I’m happy to see you’ve returned safely from your
adventure,” she said formally.

“Yes. Sorry it took so long. I had to ride to Blethryn to
find something.”

“Blethryn! M’lord! You’ve only been gone a sun!”

“I know, it couldn’t be helped. Are you all right?”

“Oh, yes, master. The doctor has taken good care of me. I
believe I’m ready to travel whenever you want to go.”

“Good,” he said. “Did you hear about the Acolyte?”

She nodded. “Yes, the doctor told me. I’m sorry, sire. I had
hoped you’d be able to help your poor niece.”

“I may still be able to—unless it’s already too late. The
Acolyte is back at the castle by now and they’ll never let a lowly third-tier
Damon inside to see him.”

Jenya studied her master’s face, which seemed lined with
worry. She wanted to reach out and touch his cheek, to assure him that she
still believed in him.

Suddenly, she sat up. “Sire! I think I know of a way to get
into the castle.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Yes?” Inwardly, he wondered what a
mere slave might come up with.

“You could offer to breed me to the High Priest! Isn’t that
a custom on occasion?”

“Well, yes, but I hardly think Bandar would have time…” he
trailed off. He suddenly saw where she was going with this idea.

“Sure, he’d be too busy—that’s why it might work!” Her face
was flushed with excitement. “Maybe we could get past the guards that way and
then find the Acolyte.”

Rydah tried to keep the surprise from his expression. That a
slave could come up with such a devious—and risky—plan! But it made a lot of
sense. Many lower-tier lords would be honored to raise the offspring of Bandar
or Kendam or one of the other leaders. While they had no official standing,
word had a way of getting around. Rydah knew of several young men and women who
had moved up from third tier to second because they had been high-born
offspring.

Still, he resisted it. What if Bandar actually agreed to it?
Could he allow her first-born to be another lord’s child? “No! I forbid it!
I’ve been waiting too many
rynes
for you!” Even as he protested, he
could think of no other way. Time was running out for Symal.

Jenya didn’t say anything. She let him come to the same
realization she had. They had to act now, the morrow might be too late.

Rydah bit his lower lip. “I’m not sure, slave. It’s risky.
We could end up on the gallows. Besides, you are injured.”

“I’m much better now, master.”

He grunted. “Let me see you.”

She rolled her legs out of bed and stood up. Rydah noticed
she still wore a bandage, though it was smaller than before.

“It was only a scrape.” She reached down and began unwinding
the bandage. Rydah waited, expecting to see the bloody red mark that he
remembered. When she pulled away the last of the cloth, he could see her wound
had scabbed over nicely.

They heard the door open. “Oh, my lord! I’m sorry! I had to
run out to help a patient!” Nerat bustled in, bag of medicine in hand.

“No harm, Lord Nerat,” Rydah said. “I’ve been admiring what
a great job you’ve done with my slave.”

He beamed. “Thank you, sire. Just a few herbs and teas. Your
slave has remarkable recovery powers.”

“I take it she can be released?”

“Oh, yes, m’lord. Whenever you want.”

Rydah pressed a few coins on the doctor and took some herbs
to make teas for her in exchange. In a few more
lapars
, he was helping
Jenya into the carriage. He noticed she still limped a bit. He didn’t bother to
chain her. “Come, we must hurry. I hope you’re all right to ride.”

“Yes, master.”

He snapped the reins and the horse leaped ahead, pulling the
cart after it.