The Plains of Kallanash (21 page)

He wasn’t aware of moving at all, but she was held tight in his arms suddenly, and they were kissing with all the passion of that night she had surprised him in his room. When they broke free, they were both panting.

She giggled then. “I’m more ready than I’d thought.”

He laughed too, and kissed her again. “Shall we go to bed?”

“Mmm.”

“Yours or mine?” he said.

“May I come to you?”

“Of course.”

It wasn’t quite the night of unrestrained passion he had dreamed of; there were too many memories for both of them, too many awkward moments, and afterwards, curled in his arms, she cried a little and then went to her own room. But it was a start.

After that she came to him quite regularly, not every night when he was home but often enough. He never went to her; somehow he never felt able to do that. It was his punishment, perhaps, for taking Jonnor away from her. He deserved to suffer.

So each night he waited in hope, and sometimes he waited in vain, aching for her in the dark, and sometimes he had the joy of an hour with her in his arms. Then she would leave. That distressed him more than anything else, that she wouldn’t stay with him. No matter how passionate their loving was, she always left him alone and empty.

Then one morning he woke to find her beside him.

“You came back,” he said, stroking her hair. “You came back to me. Thank you!”

He held her in his arms and, as much to his surprise as hers, wept softly.

“I was lonely without you,” she said simply. “And my room reminds me of him. I’ll have to change the furnishings again.”

After that, she came to him every night and stayed with him, and he began to feel that things were coming right at last. His love in his arms, the skirmishes to keep him busy and the new pair chosen.

Before too long there was a definite hope for the future, for Mia was pregnant. It felt as if the turbulence of the past year was finally behind them.

It was not entirely true, though. The deaths of Tella and Jonnor had left loose threads which niggled at the back of his mind. The figures in the funeral tower were not easy to explain, but were perhaps connected with the mysterious tunnels. Then there was Tella’s note to Mia, which suggested she foresaw her own death. And had the Slaves had a hand in Jonnor’s death?

“Have you told Mia about that?” Gantor said one day as they sat in his library. “That the Slaves might have finished Jonnor off?”

“No, and I don’t intend to. Gods, she doesn’t need that to complicate things. Besides
– we don’t know for sure. Let’s leave her memories unsullied by suspicions about the Slaves. She believes in everything they say, implicitly. I don’t want to deprive her of that.”

“Even though you don’t believe it yourself?”

“I don’t know what I believe,” Hurst said seriously. “In the Gods? Perhaps. But the Slaves and the Voices and the Servants? I’m not sure I trust them.”

“I’m sure I don’t,” Gantor said. “I ought to be horrified at the idea that they might have poisoned Jonnor, but I find it all too plausible. And here’s another thought for you. If the Slaves administer the poison that causes the mark of the Gods, what about Tella? Was she killed by Slaves too?”

~~~

Bernast and Henissa went home to choose their Companions and returned for the discovery month, when they still slept in the guest hall but otherwise spent their days with Hurst and Mia, doing everything that they did. Bernast and his Companions trained each afternoon and went on skirmishes with Hurst, while Henissa and hers helped with Karning business and got to know the children. In the evenings, they ate meat together in the high tower.

The objective was to find out if they were all compatible, and if so to settle the arrangement that would apply. With a new marriage, the parents would be there too, to make sure everything was properly done. For a new pair added to an existing marriage, however, Hurst and Mia were left to make their own decisions. Of course, there were really no decisions to make, for Hurst and Mia would be together, and Bernast and Henissa would be together and upstairs right from the start. Hurst was not going to ask anyone to suffer as he had for years. They were in love, that much was clear. Almost from the moment they met, the two had been drawn to each other, and their joy was infectious.

At the end of the discovery month, there was a ceremony in the temple and Bernast and Henissa became the second husband and second wife, receiving a new tattoo on the back of each left hand, to match the one on the right which marked them as Highers. The first evening, Hurst and Mia diplomatically made to leave after meat, to give the two time alone together, but Henissa laughed and called them back.

“No need to go,” she said. “We didn’t actually wait all this time, you know.”

Hurst had wondered quite how it would be, having two couples upstairs. He had found it so painful lying in the dark alone listening to Jonnor with Mia, but it was a different matter hearing the sounds of love when Mia was right there in his arms. He found he could bear it very well. What with sex and the skirmishes and the prospect of a baby, Hurst was very content with life. He would almost dare to describe himself as happy.

And so the summer wore away, and in time he stopped thinking about Tella and Jonnor altogether. That was all in the past, and he preferred to live in the happier present.

Mia was hearing petitions when she first felt the baby move.

Outside the great hall, the rain poured down, and inside the stone floor was spattered with muddy puddles. Rush mats had been laid at the entrance, but still everyone dripped and shivered. The petitioners on benches around the walls awaiting their hearing looked miserable, her Companions looked bored, the lawyers looked – well, the lawyers looked as they always did, stern and disapproving. The motionless guards were as inscrutable as ever. Mia herself was cold. She was always cold in the great hall, even in summer. Even Henissa was fidgeting and it was only her second petitions day.

And then, there was the tiniest little fluttering inside her, quickly over but unmistakeable. She tried very hard not to smile, for the petition being read to her was a serious one, not a matter for mirth, and the petitioners might be offended. Nevertheless, it lifted her spirits so that the morning flew by.

Mia spent the afternoon stillness alone that day. Hurst and Bernast were away at the lines, and Henissa asked if she might spend the hour with one of her Companions, who was recovering from a bad spirit. They had all four of them been afflicted with bad spirits, but then the transition from the hot northern border to the damp misery of the south-east was a difficult one, as Mia herself knew all too well.

She never minded being alone. She rarely went to bed in the afternoons. She would sit with her feet up on one of the sofas, reading a book or lost in happy thoughts of the baby growing inside her. She had never thought of herself as unfulfilled before, but pregnancy brought her a deep satisfaction. Being a mother was a great deal more to her than a duty.

Not like poor Tella. She had always hated being pregnant, hated giving birth, hated the dreadful messy aftermath of blood and leaking milk. She was always relieved when the statutory three months were over and she could hand the baby over to a wet-nurse and start riding again. Mia found herself thinking a great deal about Tella lately. It was partly being pregnant, she supposed. Finally she had something in common with her sister.

Partly, too, it was because she was trying not to think about Jonnor, who had died in her arms in the mud and rain, at the end of that traumatic outbreak of violence in the marriage. She couldn’t bear to remember it.

It was not grief that overwhelmed her, that was the worst of it. Rather it was her lack of grief that bothered her most. She had cried, of course. She had been devastated when he died. She had wondered how she could possibly find any pleasure in her life afterwards.

But somehow she had. Almost, it seemed, his death had been a relief. She had realised, in those first few days afterwards, that what she felt most was a sense of release. It was as if she had been holding her breath and now the pressure, the tension
, had gone.

And the fear. She hardly dared admit it to herself, but she had been a little afraid of him. He had traumatised her and used her and hit her, and even though he had been more considerate latterly, there was always that corner of her mind that wondered if it might happen again.

So she tried not to think about Jonnor, and Hurst helped in that respect. When she was with him, she could forget all the troubles of the past year.

Oddly, she found that he too was avoiding thoughts of Jonnor. Once or twice he had started to say something, some story about a skirmish, perhaps, or something from the training grounds, and then the words would tail off and after a pause he would change the subject.

One day she said to him, “You know, you can talk about him if you want. You don’t have to step around the subject.”

They were sitting over the greater crowns board during a stillness, and he paused, crown in hand, to look at her. “I don’t want to upset you,” he said.

“It doesn’t bother me, not any more. I like to talk about him, actually. If we never mention him, it’s almost as if he didn’t exist.”

“Are you sure? It’s not so long since…”

“Since he died. I know.” She was calm, she found. “I
was
upset at the time, naturally, but I’ve come to terms with it now. He’s gone, he and Tella have both gone, they’re with the Gods in the Life Beyond Death.”

He was silent, so she continued, “Do you know what comforts me most? They were both chosen by the Gods, they didn’t just die through random accident, the Gods chose them for some special purpose.”

She leaned forward. “And they were not alone. We were both with Jonnor when he was taken, and whatever happened to Tella, one of Those who Serve the Gods would have been with her to comfort her, to make sure she wasn’t afraid. You could see they both died by the Gods’ grace – look how peaceful they were in death. They didn’t look dead at all, it was just as if they were asleep. The Gods kept them perfect, just as they were in life.”

However reconciled she was to the deaths of Tella and Jonnor, Mia was still troubled by unanswered questions. To be sure, some mysteries had been resolved. She felt sure now that Tella had taken her own life to avoid a catastrophic inquiry by the Voices into her behaviour, and perhaps that was the best outcome. No good could come of asking who had sired little Jinnia, the man with white
-blond hair and a name beginning with an ‘I’. That was one mystery best left unanswered.

But there was still the question of the people seen in the funeral tower, and the tunnels beneath them. If the Companions had been saved, where had they gone? And most of all, why? She could hardly believe they could really be alive. Yet now that the idea had wormed its way into her mind, she found herself unable to forget it.

Mia was determined to set these matters to rest. With a baby on the way, she wanted to put such unanswerable questions behind her once and for all. She would take them to one who had the power to reassure her, and then perhaps she could forget about them. So she went to see the Karninghold Slave.

She told him what she had seen in the funeral tower after Tella’s death, and she told him all she had learned, which was not much, about the tunnels. He listened gravely to it all, but said nothing, simply allowing her to talk.

When she had finally run out of words, he said, “You did quite right to bring all this to me, Most High. This has been troubling you for some time, it is better to unburden yourself. And Most High Hurst had the same impression?”

“Impression? He saw people in the tower too. Are you saying we were both mistaken?”

“There is an effect – an illusion, if you like –that can arise at certain times. It is purely a congruence of the sun combined with the mystical lights in the tower, it is not real, Most High. It creates shadows that look to the untrained eye exactly like people, but of course it is not so. It cannot be so, as I’m sure you will realise when you consider the matter in the correct light. For at the time you saw thi
s
–
illusion, there were no living people in the tower.”

“Oh. We saw something, then, but it was not real?”

“That is so.”

“Of course. And the tunnels?”

“There are no tunnels of that type. Your scholar friends are quite deluded in thinking there might be. Perhaps they are confused about the drainage pipes? I’m afraid they have rather misled you, Most High.”

Mia was not quite as satisfied with this explanation as she would have hoped.

Of course she trusted the Slave implicitly, for was he not charged with revealing the will of the Gods? He would hardly lie. And yet his expertise was in spiritual matters. How was it that he knew enough of building practices to say so definitively that there were no tunnels? Tunnels were affairs of men, not Gods.

Drantior had been quite adamant that they existed
– or had, at one time – and his research was into historical buildings and techniques. Then there were the pipes carrying the vapour to the funeral towers, which certainly had tunnels for maintenance. And despite the talk of illusions and tricks of the light, Mia knew that she had seen people moving about in the tower. It was most unsettling. If the Slave had simply shrugged and said he knew nothing about these matters, she would have let them drop, but his authoritative denial made her wonder even more.

So when he stopped her as she was leaving the temple one day, and asked if her mind had been fully set at rest now, she said, “No, I am more confused than ever, Most Humble. My scholar friends are quite sure there are
– or were – tunnels, and they suspected that the Godstowers are air vents for them. Yet you are sure there is no such thing. So I thought I might ride out to one of the Godstowers to have a look round – settle the matter once and for all, you know.”

The Slave paled. “Most High, I am shocked! I have given you your answer
– why do you question the Word of the Gods?”

“I don’t, Most Humble. But I don’t know why my friends would believe there to be tunnels if there are none. One of them has seen maps of them, long ago. Were those illusions, Most Humble?”

“They are
mistaken
, Most High.” He spoke rapidly and emphatically, all his usual urbane smoothness swept away. “They are
fallible
, like all humans. That is why the Gods came to us, to keep us from error by disseminating their Word explicitly, and I am their humble mouthpiece. You
must
not
do this, Most High!”

Mia was astonished and unsettled by his agitation. There was nothing more to be said, however, so she meekly bowed her head, touching her hand to her forehead.

“I obey the Word of the Gods in this, as in all things.”

The Slave smiled and nodded his approval at her, but his eyes glittered and she felt somehow that the matter was not closed.

She had not seriously thought of going to a Godstower herself, for it was well known that they had no doors, and she had no mind to scale walls or dig into foundations. She wondered if it might be an amusing project for Hurst when he next returned. He was due back in a few days, and she determined to discuss it with him and see if he had an explanation for the Slave’s odd behaviour.

A day or two later, she and Henissa had the morning free and decided to ride out. Henissa was a nervous rider still, and liked to have Mia’s company, and her pregnancy meant that Mia would not be able to ride much longer, so they had to take every opportunity. They were gathering in the stable yard, Mia and Henissa, two or three of the Companions, and a group of guards, when the Karninghold Slave came rushing across and drew Mia to one side.

“I have good news, Most High!” he whispered in an urgent tone. “The matter that so concerns you – I have found someone who can enlighten you.”

“Oh
– about the tunnels?”

“Shh! Keep your voice low, Most High, for you must understand that all this is
– most secret. But it has been decided – to let you know something of it. If you go now, you will learn about it.”

“Now? Where is this person?”

“North of here, about half an hour’s ride, there is a small village and beyond that an open field where sheep graze. On the edge of the field, just in the woods there, is a dead oak tree. Do you know it?”

“Yes, yes I do. I will tell the others we are going north, then.”

“No, no, Most High, you must go alone!”

“Alone? I may take some guards with me, surely?”

“No, no! Completely alone! It is very secret, no one else may know, that is very important.”

Mia was surprised, and for an instant she hesitated, wondering whether perhaps it might be better to know nothing of such secret matters. There must be a reason for the secrecy, after all. But clearly the Slave had gone to some trouble to arrange this, to set her mind at rest, and it would be rude to refuse after she had asked for his help in the first place. So she smiled.

“Very well. Thank you. You are very kind.”

For a moment the Slave looked nonplussed, and there was a flash of something else
– was it pity? But then his urbane mask was restored and he bowed, and disappeared.

Mia explained to the others that something urgent had come up, and she had to deal with it at once. They accepted her account without question, which was natural since they had seen her talking to the Slave. They mounted up and clattered out of the yard, heading to the southern road and their usual route for exercising the horses.

The stable-hand holding her own horse stood watching her, his face impassive. He was one of the most senior, a grizzled man of late middle age, once a Skirmisher and now reduced to sweeping horse droppings and holding bridles for flighty Karningholders who changed their plans at the last minute. She smiled at him and stroked the horse’s nose.

“He looks well, Hemmond. You take good care of him.”

“Thank you, Most High. Shall I send for an escort for you?”

“No, I’m not going far. I shall go alone.”

He looked shocked. “Alone, Most High? Is that wise? What if you should have a problem? And just at present—?” He looked down at her stomach, the slight swell visible even under her riding coat.

“I’ll be on the road, Hemmond, and I’ll keep to a very gentle pace. I’ll be back by noon.”

She mounted up, and Hemmond stood aside, but she could see the disapproval in his face.