Firewalk (16 page)

Kayli had looked so eagerly for the Coridowyn, hungry for her first glimpse of a real river, that she was disappointed when she finally caught sight of the thin line snaking across the land, edged with a straggly fringe of brush and saplings. The river itself was less than a dozen man-heights wide, and that, Randon told her, was as big as it usually got, due to the recent rain. The water was muddy, too, and even the plants at the river’s edge were heavily silted. Altogether it was a draggled and unimpressive sight.

The bridge, however, more than made up for Kayli’s disappointment in the river, for it was a marvel of engineering the like of which she had never imagined. The huge stone-and-beam structure straddled the little river like a giant dipping its toes in the muddy water, and it made Kayli a little breathless to ride over it so casually. She wondered whether anyone had dared to bridge the fabled Dezarin, and when she asked Randon, she was a little chagrined to see that he laughed heartily.

“The Dezarin? I doubt if there’s enough stone in the country for that task,” he said. “And anything we built would wash away like twigs at the first flood. Nobody even lives too close to the Dezarin, for she bursts out of her banks regularly and sweeps away everything she touches. Someday I’ll take you to meet the lady herself. I’m sure you’ll find her far more interesting than this little whelp.”

When they crossed the river, true to Randon’s word, there were no more farms or fields, only open land and, far ahead, the dark green fuzz of a forest. But this was no plain such as Kayli had known all her life; this was what Agrond called open country, full of brush and wildflowers and low-growing green things. A thousand new fragrances overwhelmed Kayli’s nose.

Randon leaned over so he could speak to her softly.

“These guards have been leading long enough,” he said, grinning. “Want to see if they can keep up with us?”

Kayli smiled back and, without replying, gave Maja’s sides a gentle squeeze with her knees, leaning forward as she did so. Maja immediately launched herself forward, full out, passing the guards as if they were stones at the roadside; to her delight, Randon was not far behind her. Kayli laughed at the shouts that faded with gratifying rapidity behind her. Even Randon gradually lost ground, as Maja had a lead and Kayli was a lighter load. At last, however, she heard him calling her, and she signaled Maja to slow and stop, letting Randon catch up.

“Remind me never to race you again,” he said, laughing. “And I thought Terralt was exaggerating when he said it was your mare dragging his along, not the other way around. But better stop for a moment. The guards are in a panic back there; their horses tired out long ago under all that weight.”

Kayli sighed and waited for the guards to catch up, after which she and Randon received a lecture from the captain as to why the High Lord and Lady should never leave the range of the guards’ protection, and why the High Lord and Lady should never race along at such dangerous speeds anyway.

The guards were thwarted in their overprotectiveness, however, for Randon and Kayli had several good runs over the level ground. Kayli wished wistfully for her bow, for she saw any quantity of small game, but Randon assured her that there would be many other opportunities, and someday soon they’d go boar hunting in the forest. They rode until even Maja and Carada were tired, then made their way slowly back to the castle.

There was no time to bathe and dress before supper, so Randon had a tray sent up to their quarters and they ate just as they were, smelling of leather and horses and laughing over their meat buns and boiled tubers. After supper they had their baths, and they were not too tired to end the evening in each other’s arms in front of the fire.

“So, our first audience,” Randon mused, stroking Kayli’s hair. “Now we’ve been through the fire.”

“What?” His choice of phrase startled her, and she raised herself up to look at him.

“Well, it wasn’t too bad, was it?” Randon said, not understanding. “I suppose it will get easier with time.”

So he had viewed this morning as a sort of firewalk indeed, a proving of his worthiness. Kayli sighed, remembering that she had been denied her first firewalk. Her own worthiness had never been tested. Now that she had been Awakened, she could still make a firewalk, and would, but it would not be the same as the wonderful, terrible ritual for which she had prepared so painstakingly, entrusting herself to the flames while, as a novice, she still had no immunity to their fiery embrace. She would have to be careless now, her concentration fail her utterly, for a firewalk to do her harm, and for that very reason, it could never mean as much to her. She would never know that moment of purest faith again.

And Randon would never have the chance to know it at all.

“What do you believe?” she asked him.

“Hmmm?” Apparently surprised by the change of subject, Randon turned over to face her. “What do you mean?”

“You speak sometimes of the Bright Ones,” she said by way of explanation. “Are they deities that you worship?”

“Hmmm. Worship? I don’t know about that,” Randon said slowly. “We call them the Bright Sisters, too. It’s the moon and the sun, of course. By day, the sun makes the plants grow; by night, her sister the moon controls the change of the seasons. The farmers make offerings to them, and the family has a few token public rituals, but I can’t say we
worship
nowadays, not for a few generations, at least. What about you? You speak of fire sometimes as if you worshiped it.”

“The Flame?” Kayli hesitated, wondering if her knowledge of Agrondish was sufficient to explain. “The Flame is not a god, not a... consciousness, in the way you speak of your Bright Ones. The Flame is a force, a power. Of all things, it was the first that came into being when the universe was born. First there was the great darkness, and in the heart of that darkness, a single spark that grew slowly into the Flame. And the Flame flung its sparks far and wide, and some of those sparks cooled and became Earth—such as our world—and from the womb of Earth, Water and Wind were born. Other sparks burned on, and in the sky we can see them, especially in the darkness of night. The sun is such a fire, giving us light and warmth. And even in our cooled world, the Flame lives in fire. A memory of it lives in stone and metal, else how could fire be struck from flint and steel? And it bums in some people, in their flesh and in their spirit, and in Bregond, those people are taught to use that power for the good of our people. We have rituals, but they are not worship, more like a—a focus of concentration, perhaps.”

“A spell?” Randon suggested. “Like Stevann uses.”

“Words and gestures to focus his power?” Kayli asked.

“Yes.”

“A spell, then, yes.” Kayli brought into life again the small flame in her hand, showed him its dancing light “As I learn more, I will need such rituals only for complicated magics. So my rituals are not worship as one would worship a deity. And we may ask the wind to bring us rain, or the earth to yield us food, but we are not speaking to a deity so much as—as to a power within ourselves.”

“Mmmm.” Randon rolled over suddenly so that Kayli lay on her back, his face just above hers. “And suppose I wanted to speak to something within you. How would I go about that?”

Kayli laughed a little.

“Then I would suggest,” she murmured, “that you use a language without words.”

The next days fell into a pattern that Kayli feared would represent the rest of her life. Every other morning there were audiences until midday, sometimes later. If there was no audience, she would spend her morning studying. In the afternoon she would visit with Ynea, or study if Randon was still sorting his father’s old business; if he was free, they might discuss the day’s judgments, or they might sit down with Terralt or one or more of the ministers to discuss the complexities of Agrondish law or to sign documents and proclamations that needed their approval. Sometimes work continued at the supper table, where Terralt might or might not join them.

After supper, however, Randon insisted—to Kayli’s relief, that the High Lord and Lady had retired for the evening, and he and Kayli would have their time together uninterrupted. Unfortunately this usually meant retreating to their quarters, locking the door, and ignoring the knocks that inevitably came. Kayli appreciated the quiet time, but when days passed and she realized that she had set foot outside the castle only once since she arrived, she almost despaired, wondering how Ynea could bear such confinement.

But bear it Ynea must. Endra returned from her first visit with the frail lady very troubled.

“She should never have borne this child,” Endra said without preamble. “I suspect she should not have borne the three before it. If I’d seen her sooner, I’d have given her a potion to lose the child, if she were strong enough, which I doubt. If she follows my orders strictly and this mage of hers is quite good, she may live. And then again, she may die.” Endra shook her head disgustedly. “She’s only ten years and seven, did you know that? Hardly two years out of her first decade when her husband put her belly up. Shame to the father who would barter off his daughter to bear at such an age, and shame to the healer who let it happen, and shame to the husband who couldn’t keep his manhood in his trousers long enough to let his wife grow out of childhood. And I’d say so and more to him if I was let.”

“Then he would say you were not to see his wife again,” Kayli said patiently, “and Ynea, who will not speak against him, would lack your care altogether. So curb your temper, I beg you, and help Ynea as best you can. And whatever medicines you require, if Stevann cannot procure them for you, I will send to Bregond for them.” Kayli thought, but did not say, that she would be just as glad if Endra kept a full stock of all her medicines, in case Kayli herself should suffer such difficulties.

Something in her expression must have revealed her thoughts, however, for the midwife laid a hand on her arm and smiled reassuringly.

“You’ll have no such trouble, lady,” Endra said. “Believe me. Your cycles are regular and you have health and strength, and if I tell you you must drink blackroot tea between your children to prevent you from bearing too close together, you and Randon have the sense to listen.”

Kayli thought wryly that she had little enough use for blackroot tea. The arrival of her courses proved that she had not yet conceived, and although Randon had assured her that it was of no consequence, that nobody expected her to conceive so soon, she had been disappointed and knew that he was, too. She had asked Endra whether she ought not try a different fertility potion, but Endra had only shook her head and said that whatever High Priestess Brisi had prepared, it was likely far superior to anything she could mix together. Kayli took the potion faithfully every night, even though it made her feel a little ill afterward and sometimes her stomach cramped painfully.

Ironically, although it was her Order-trained self-discipline which sustained her, Kayli wondered whether that same training had not spoiled her for life at court. Although her days at the Order had been as busy and her free time as scarce as now, there had been a general tone of accomplishment, of peace, of—well, order—to her time. Here she felt hurried and frustrated and often ignorant, and even the decisions she made gave her no sense of accomplishment, usually leaving her worrying for hours whether she had made the right judgment.

Randon was kind, and she knew he would understand her worries, but she could confide in him least of all. The Flame knew he had worries enough without the addition of hers, but more than that, despite their marriage, Randon remained essentially a stranger to her, someone with perhaps very different goals and purposes. She was his wife, but she was also, of necessity, a means to an end for him—and a replaceable means, too. That knowledge, and the importance of the child she must bear, remained a wall between them.

When her courses ceased, Kayli went to Stevann to ask whether he knew any spells to aid in fertility.

“There are no spells I know,” Stevann told her, “to assure pregnancy. Healers try not to interfere with the natural process; I’ve heard that in the savage west there were once powerful magics used to speed the growth of an unborn child, but it was found to be too dangerous to mother and child.”

“High Priestess Brisi gave me a fertility potion,” Kayli said, handing Stevann the flask. “Is not the conception of Randon’s heir worth some risk?”

“Mmm.” Stevann sniffed the vial, frowned, and shook his head. “It doesn’t smell like any of the fertility potions I’m familiar with, but then the herbs in Bregond would be different. It’s usually not a sound practice to mix potions by two different mages. Give your potion time to work. If you haven’t conceived in a few months, we’ll see what can be done.”

Kayli was not satisfied with his answer, but there was little she could do to change his mind, especially when Randon agreed with the healer. So she did the only thing she could do: she waited, and she fulfilled her duties as best she could, and she tried to master the speaking crystal.

It took, in fact, several days to learn the simple twist of her thoughts to activate the crystal. Once she had the trick of it, she was surprised at the simplicity of the technique. She chose to try the crystal in late afternoon, when she knew the High Priestess usually set aside time to meditate, and was gratified by the immediacy with which her mentor’s face appeared in the crystal. Even more gratifying, however, was the calm lack of surprise with which Brisi recognized the caller.

“So you have mastered the speaking crystal,” she said serenely. “You look well, my student, although I had word that your caravan was set upon. Your parents were frantic with worry when two of your maids returned to tell of the attack. A fire-scrying told me you had escaped, but were gravely ill, and the country was in an uproar until High Lord Randon’s envoys arrived to say that you were safe and had recovered, and that the wedding had taken place. Your mother and father have dispatched another caravan to Agrond, as I understand.”

“I thank you for the tidings of my family,” Kayli said, relieved to learn that her maids had escaped. “But what has transpired at the Order since I left?”