Binding Spell (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms) (3 page)

Around me the inn’s patrons erupted into laughter, and hot blood rushed to my cheeks. No doubt his lordship thought my situation very good sport, but I was not amused at all by their merriment. I knew I was far from beautiful at that moment — what woman would be, after being stolen from her bed in the middle of the night and dragged hundreds of miles on horseback? I could have cheerfully driven my knee into Kadar Arkalis’ groin and watched his laughs turn to groans. Instead, I only stood there, stony-faced.

Sirdahl, however, did not join in with the general merriment. He deposited the mugs on the tables of their respective recipients, and then turned to us and wiped his hands on the dark green linen apron he wore. “Whatever else, it appears to me that the young lady is in need of a proper meal.”

The table closest to us was unoccupied, and he pulled out a chair. “If you would, my lady.”

I sank down into it, grateful for this unexpected kindness from a stranger. I was also glad that the skirt of borrowed my gown was long enough to cover my bare and dirty feet.

To my relief, the rest of the inn’s patrons returned to their food and drink once they apparently realized its owner would take no part in baiting me. Kadar remained standing, although he dropped his hand to grasp the back of my chair. Why, I wasn’t sure. To affirm his continued ownership of my person?

“Sirdahl was one of my mother’s retainers,” he told me. “But he preferred to take his retirement here, for reasons no one has been able to explain.”

“Perhaps he felt continuing at court in your service would prove detrimental to his health,” I offered.

I didn’t mistake the twitch at the corner of Sirdahl’s lip that followed my comment, but he said nothing.

“She has quite the mouth, hasn’t she?” Kadar remarked. Then he shrugged. “Ah, well, at least my future should be far from dull. Some cider, and bacon and eggs.”

The older man nodded and moved off. After his departure, Kadar pulled out the chair next to mine and sat down. “You aren’t afraid to speak your mind, are you?”

I shifted in my chair so I more or less faced him. “Not usually. At any rate, I see no reason to hold my tongue. You’ve already threatened me with the worst — what else do I have to fear from you?”

“‘The worst’?” he repeated, and gave a short laugh. “That would be news to the noble daughters of my kingdom…and their parents. I’ve been dodging their matrimonial machinations for years.”

That didn’t surprise me at all. I guessed they would do much to secure such lofty status. At least Kadar was young and — if I forced myself to be objective about it — reasonably attractive. Many rulers often were neither.

The daughters of North Eredor were welcome to him, however. I could have no respect for a man who rode so roughshod over the rights of others. “Then far be it from me to deny them their prize. Would you not prefer a willing wife?”

He lifted his shoulders once more. “None of them offered the connections I desired. As to the rest…” A pause, while his gaze lingered on my mouth. “I wager you’ll not be unwilling for very long.”

“A wager you will lose,” I retorted, but I held my tongue after that, as Sirdahl approached, bearing a tray of food and drink.

“It is plain enough fare,” he said, setting a plate of bacon and eggs in front of me. “But I hope you will like it.”

I smiled up at him. “It smells wonderful.” And indeed it did, as hearty and toothsome as anything I might have gotten at home.

He put the other plate in front of Kadar, along with a pair of wooden mugs. “Let me know if you have need of anything else.”

Kadar nodded. “This should give us strength for the road. But have a loaf wrapped up for us as well. And a few canteens of small beer.”

“Of course,” Sirdahl replied, and then departed for the kitchen.

Those words troubled me. It sounded as if, after this much-welcomed stop, Kadar intended to ride straight on for the rest of the day. At this rate, I’d be barely able to walk by the time we reached Tarenmar. Had I ever been so weary in my life? I felt I could barely lift my fork.

But lift it I did. Sleep had been denied me, and so the food was doubly needed. I kept my gaze resolutely away from Kadar as I made short work of the eggs and bacon on my plate. Perhaps guessing my mood, he remained silent as well, save for demanding a second helping once he had cleaned his plate.

“You?” he asked at last, pointing toward the few remaining scraps of my breakfast.

“No.” Already the food had begun to bring on a sensation of lassitude. Over-indulging might lead me to fall asleep right then and there. Or worse, in Kadar’s arms, once we continued our ride.

He broke his last piece of bacon in half and consumed that as well. Just as Kadar pushed his plate away, Sirdahl re-emerged with a napkin-wrapped bundle in one hand and two leather canteens slung over his other arm.

“Many thanks,” Kadar said, and took the meager supplies.

The innkeeper hesitated and looked down at me. “Would you not rather spend the day here? Your lady seems wearied beyond endurance.”

“Ah, she’s tougher than she looks,” Kadar replied, and clapped me roughly on the shoulder. I sat up straighter in my chair and glared at him.

Sirdahl appeared less than convinced, but he said nothing else. It seemed to me that while he might have been able to take liberties others would not, thanks to his long acquaintance with his lord, even he knew when to take a step back.

“Come, my Lady Lark. The day is wasting.”

As there was nothing else I could do, I stood. “Thank you for breakfast,” I told Sirdahl.

He nodded, but his dark eyes were still troubled. “A safe ride to you both.”

“I have no worries on that account,” replied Kadar with a negligent wave of his hand.

And he led me back out to the horse tether, where Lamakh still waited for us. I noticed he had a half-eaten sweet bun of some kind in his hand, so at least he hadn’t gone completely without sustenance as he waited for us. All the same, I didn’t think much of the way Kadar treated his servants. Had Lamakh slept at all since the night he abducted me, save for that bit of enchanted sleep I’d conjured the evening before?

Then again, I didn’t know why I should care. These men were my enemies. Their well-being was nothing to me.

This time I didn’t wait for Lamakh to hoist me up into the saddle, but grasped the pommel and hauled myself back into Kadar’s lap. My dignity was already in tatters, but at least I could make some attempt at appearing as if I were partly in control of my destiny.

“So eager to be back in my arms?” he inquired.

“Oh, do leave me be,” I retorted, and shifted a bit so that I didn’t have his belt buckle digging into my hip.

I thought I heard the low rumble of laughter in his throat, but he said nothing as he turned the horse around and pointed us northward once more.

A
t some point
the combination of weariness and a full stomach got the better of me, and I did fall asleep. So I missed much of that journey, and had very little awareness of my surroundings until I felt the horse slow to a walk. Then I opened my eyes and raised my head from where it had been resting against Kadar’s arm.

“Back among the living, I see.”

I forbore from replying, mainly because I was mortified that I’d slept all that time, and also because my neck was telling me that I had managed to kink it in a most painful fashion.

He continued, “Your timing is good, at least. Look — we have come to my capital.”

By that time the sun was almost touching the western horizon, but it still cast enough light for me to see a low-lying city clustered around the edges of a dark lake with a stony shore. We had come to the final crest of a series of hills, and below us the road wound gently downward until it met up with another, larger route that cut east and west. To the north, beyond the city, I thought I saw the dim edges of more forest.

Nothing about the scene seemed at all welcoming, but that could have had much to do with my worries as to the fate which awaited me once we were in Kadar’s capital city. “It’s lovely,” I said, in sour tones that hinted I thought the exact opposite.

“No, it is not Marestal, with its white walls and seaport and warm winds,” he agreed, then sent a roguish smile in my direction when I glanced up at him in surprise. “Yes, I have been to the South. Yours is a fair land, but soft. We are made of sterner stuff here in the North.”

I did not reply. If he thought such speeches would appeal to me, he was sorely mistaken. While it had been an adventure to travel to Sirlende and to see the great castle in the duchy of Gahm, and the sprawling manor house my brother was to inherit, I realized I did prefer my white-washed city by the sea, with its flameflower vines and salt-scented air. Unfortunately, it did not appear that I would be returning there any time soon.

We began our descent. The light dimmed as we grew closer, so I could not see a great deal of detail by the time we entered the city proper. The buildings appeared to be mainly built of the native greyish granite, although some of the meaner dwellings on the city’s outskirts were whitewashed stucco. Hard-packed dirt formed the bulk of the streets. And I realized Tarenmar was quite small, actually, smaller even than my native city, which, according to my father, would itself be swallowed up ten times over by Sirlende’s capital of Iselfex.

Even so, it took our small party some time to pick its way through the streets to a walled castle that backed up to the southern edge of the lake. I thought it rather strange that no one seemed to note the passage of their lord, but perhaps he was not one to stand on ceremony and often traveled with little escort. Or possibly no one recognized him because now he traveled through the streets with no unnecessary pomp.

The city did not have the bustling energy of Marestal, my seaport home, but I still spied plenty of activity — farmers heading home after a long day at market, women laden with the fruits of a day’s shopping, the odd drover with a gaggle of sheep or goats, scribes in dark robes, and players in the wild multicolors of their profession. It all looked quite normal, and not unlike what I would have seen in the streets of my native city. At least it was a far cry from the dark and dangerous stronghold I had worried would greet me at journey’s end.

The guards at the castle entrance recognized Kadar, of course. He did not even have to call out a greeting; as soon as he approached on his dapple-grey, they hurried to open the huge barred iron door. He raised a hand, as if giving thanks for their alacrity, but he passed by without greeting.

We entered a courtyard crowded with more guards, the hurrying shapes of servants in dark livery, and other people whose occupations I could only guess at. An ostler came to take Kadar’s horse by its bridle, and I slipped out of the saddle, hoping that my quivering legs would hold me up long enough for me to get inside. Lamakh dismounted and began to lead his horse away — to the stables, I supposed. Apparently he was not to accompany us inside the castle proper.

I did not have to trust my shaky limbs for very long, as almost at once Kadar was at my side, his hand firmly on my elbow. “This way,” he murmured, and guided me toward a set of tall double doors that opened even as we approached.

“Welcome back, my lord,” said a tall individual who appeared a few paces in front of us. His gaze settled on me, but aside from an eyebrow lift that came and went so quickly I wasn’t sure I hadn’t imagined it, he showed no reaction.

“Althan,” Kadar acknowledged. “This is Lady Lark Sedassa, my affianced bride. See that she is well taken care of.” He turned to me and lifted one of my hands to his lips before I could think to pull it back. “Neglected business awaits, my sweet. I shall call on you as soon as I am able.”

And with that he released my hand, then strode off down the corridor, bellowing out what sounded like another of the odd
corraghar
names.

I stood where I was, looking after him, mouth slightly agape. So now that he had me safely trapped within his castle, I was of no immediate interest to him?

“My lady,” Althan said. He sounded resigned, as if he were all too used to the peculiarities of his master’s character. “If you would come with me?”

All I could do was nod and then follow as he led me down another hallway and up a narrow flight of steps. While it was certainly nowhere near Lord Senric’s castle in terms of opulence, I saw at once that Kadar’s keep was well built and furnished, with bright hangings on the walls and cleanly scrubbed stone floors. While I couldn’t claim to be exactly reassured, I did feel somewhat less low. Or perhaps that was merely relief at being out of Kadar’s presence for the moment.

My spirits lifted even more when Althan ushered me into a very comfortable suite of rooms, with Keshiaari carpets on the floor and a charming fireplace of carved stone in the main sitting room. More hangings covered the walls, and the furniture was of heavy dark wood with invitingly plump upholstery.

“I must apologize, my lady, for not having made any preparations for your arrival.” Althan paused by the fireplace, a diffident expression on his lean features. “I hope you find these chambers adequate.”

“Very,” I replied. The rooms were more than adequate, and offered the comforting side benefit of obviously being guest chambers, and not Kadar’s private rooms. So perhaps I would have enough breathing space to see if I could find some way out of this mess.

Althan asked delicately, “And your baggage…?”

“I have none,” I said, not bothering to temper the bluntness of my words. “I come to you as you see me now.” Resisting the impulse to lift my skirts so he could see my dirty bare feet, I added, “A hot bath would be most welcome.”

He bowed. “Of course, my lady. It will be seen to immediately. I will gather what items I can to lend you comfort for now, but of course tomorrow I will have seamstresses come in to provide you with a suitable wardrobe.”

“Thank you, Althan.”

Again he inclined his head, before taking his leave of me and shutting the doors behind him. I waited for a moment, then crossed the sitting room and tried the lock. It wouldn’t turn.