Firewalk (21 page)

When Randon reluctantly allowed himself to be shooed out the door, Endra brought in Anida and Devra, and two other Bregondish women whom Kayli did not recognize. “This is Silva, and this is Minda,” Endra said, indicating the two new maids. “Your mother sent them with the caravan that arrived a few days ago. Between the five of us, doubtless we can manage to get you into a tub to soak.”

“Days?” Kayli’s voice was still a harsh croak, but surprise and dismay lent it strength. “How long?”

“Four days.” Endra slid her arm under Kayli’s shoulders and muscled her upright. “No, lady, just lie quiet and let us take care of you.” Almost magically the woman whisked Kayli out of bed and into blessedly hot water.

“Yes, it’s been four days,” Endra continued, motioning the other maids to change the bed linens while she gently washed the sweat from Kayli’s skin. “The caravan arrived the day after. It’s still here, too; Brother Santee wouldn’t leave until he could take word back that you were going to be all right. Let’s see, what else? Your mother and father sent the girls, as I mentioned, and a groom for your horses, and all sorts of gifts and trade goods. There’s boxes for you, too, from your parents and from the temple. But all that will wait until you’re stronger.” Thunder crashed and Endra set her hands on her hips, pursing her lips with annoyance. “Storming again. Bregondish don’t call this ‘wetlands’ for naught. Three days already of rain and noise, and no sign of it stopping, either. A good thing it wasn’t pouring down the night you were poisoned, else nobody could’ve found that root.”

Kayli said nothing, letting Endra’s talk wash over her in a flood more soothing than the hot water. A package from the temple—that must be from Brisi. And a groom—the facts seemed to slip through her mind like water through her fingers; she couldn’t seem to grasp them. But one thought pushed its way to the forefront.

“Seba,” Kayli said, suddenly strengthened by the memory. “Endra, I must speak with her.”

Endra set her hands on her hips and raised both eyebrows.

“Now? All right, but we’ll get you out of the tub first. Minda, fetch the child, will you? And while you’re out, tell the cook we’re ready for the soup.”

Kayli was dried, comfortably wrapped in a clean robe, and settled snugly into her bed when Seba crept into the room, carrying a tray. “Priestess, I have soup and tea,” she said timidly. “The lady midwife asked me to bring it.”

“Soup? Tea?” Kayli sighed as she lifted the covers from the bowl and cup. “It seems I am fasting again.” She tasted the soup and grimaced; once again the thick broth was overly rich with cream and butter and eggs.

“Arrabia
burns from within,” Seba murmured. “It will take time for the flesh burned from your throat and vitals to heal. The enriched broth is soothing as well as nourishing. Please drink, Priestess, I beg you.”

“I am no priestess,” Kayli said, but she swallowed the thick soup, sip by tiny sip, until it was gone. Soon she wished she’d saved a little for last, for the tea was so thick and sweet with honey that she could barely swallow it. She choked the last of it down, however, and by that time Seba had poured blessedly cold, clear water for her.

When she had finished, Kayli patted the edge of the bed at her side and, when Seba hesitated, gazed at her sternly. Reluctantly Seba sat down, and Kayli took the small, callused hand in her own.

“Your knowledge and quick action saved my life,” she said. “For that I am in your debt. No—” She held up her hand to silence Seba’s protest. “You have saved the daughter of the High Lord of Bregond, and the High Lady of Agrond as well, and you have earned the gratitude of two countries.

“Soon the caravan will depart for Bregond,” Kayli continued. “You should return to Bregond with it Brother Santee, and the letter I will send, will tell my parents of the service you have rendered me. My parents could reward you with a herd of your own, if that is what you wish, or lands and a permanent home near their castle.”

Seba’s face fell.

“You are sending me away?” she murmured, stricken.

Kayli sighed.

“Little one, listen to me. My position here is not secure. Any reward I grant you could be taken away if I am set aside, and you might once more find yourself alone in a strange country. You deserve better than I can offer you here.”

Seba would not raise her eyes from the floor.

“I can’t go back, Pri—mistress. I could have the best herd of horses in the land and nobody would buy from me. I could have the largest house and nobody would sit at my table.”

Kayli sighed. She wanted to argue, but could not. A Sarkondish captive was dead in the eyes of kin and country, to be mourned, yes, and avenged if possible. A living captive was a traitor to betray her people, a hostage to cripple and bleed them, a suffering victim to haunt their dreams. No. The captives were dead, honorably and cleanly by their own hand, as was their right—and their duty.

And if not, they would come to wish they were.

No, Seba was right. It was monstrously unfair, as unfair as the raid which had left a child alone and enslaved in a foreign country. But there was nothing to do but hope that the alliance of Agrond and Bregond would finally drive Sarkond back beyond the borders forever.

“Please, mistress, don’t send me away,” Seba whispered, her fingers clutching desperately at the blankets.

“No, Seba. I will not send you away.” She could, she supposed, give the child money, lands, a house here in Agrond. But she had no assurance that such gifts would be honored if Kayli were set aside as High Lady—and likely, too, that the citizens of Agrond might turn on the poor child in such a case. And Seba had been a slave for many years; although Kayli was disappointed that Seba would rather remain in service to her than take the risks of freedom, it was understandable. Perhaps it was best that the girl stay with her, at least for now, where Kayli could protect her. Later, when she’d borne Randon’s child and secured her own future, when Seba’s broken spirit had grown strong again, there could be other rewards.

“No, child, you may stay if that is truly what you want.”

The naked relief in Seba’s expression troubled Kayli, but she only squeezed the small, hard fingers and said nothing.

“I’ll serve you well, mistress, I swear,” Seba breathed. “But for now you should rest again.”

The child was gone as quietly as she’d come, whisking the dishes with her. Kayli lay back, banishing the numerous worries that pressed for her attention, and let herself drift into sleep, hoping that Randon would be there when she woke.

When she opened her eyes, however, she was surprised and a little alarmed to see Terralt’s silhouette, not Randon’s, in the dim light of the fire. Kayli started to push herself upright, her head swimming, when she spotted Endra hovering at the open door, glancing from her to Terralt as if undecided whether to stay as chaperon or send for the guards to haul the visitor away. Kayli waved Endra over and let the midwife push more pillows behind her; then Endra withdrew as far as the window, where she pulled up a chair and pointedly sat down.

Terralt chuckled and stepped to the bedside.

“Your maid doubtless believes I poisoned you, and I’ve come to finish the job.” he said. “Can you reassure her?”

“I have no idea,” Kayli rasped, trying to discern his expression in the dim light. “Can I?”

Terralt was silent for a moment. Then he chuckled again, but it was a rather weary chuckle, Kayli thought.

“Unless you believe Stevann is conspiring against you as well,” he said. “He chose the mage who questioned the kitchen staff, and I demanded to be the first tested. So you can rest assured I’m not here to see my evil deed completed.”

Kayli did not know what to say. She turned away.

“Endra, would you bring me something to drink?”

Endra clucked reprovingly, but she left, closing the door behind her, leaving Terralt to draw up a chair to the bedside.

“In fact,” Terralt said, as if they were in the middle of a pleasant conversation, “I came to bring Ynea’s regards. Stevann won’t let her out of her bed, but she sent more of her flower books to entertain you.”

“One of those books helped to save my life,” Kayli retorted, hating Terralt’s condescending tone. “In that book they found the plant that counteracted the poison.”

Kayli could not be certain in the darkness, but she thought Terralt smiled.

“I’ll tell Ynea,” he said. “It’ll cheer her no end. She’s not the type to gloat, but I suppose she’s earned it this time.” He leaned a little forward. “I’ll even apologize for ridiculing her hobby.”

“Then make your apology to her, not to me,” Kayli said. “For she has earned that, too, many times over.”

Terralt leaned back again, and when the fire flared briefly, Kayli could see his familiar grin.

“You’ll not be satisfied until you lay the whip to my back with your own hand, will you?” he said wryly. “Very well. Ynea will have her apology. Rest well, my lady, and I wish you a swift recovery. Good night.”

Terralt left Kayli with a thousand questions burning in her mind. If he was not behind her poisoning, who could it have been? Kayli dreaded the thought that one of Randon’s friends might have been responsible. But who else could it be?

Endra brought more rich soup, more oversweet tea, but little sympathy as Kayli choked down the liquids.

“Be glad you’re alive to drink it,” the midwife said sternly. “Now, if you can sit up, I’ll comb your hair. Your husband should be here soon.”

The storm raged outside, and Kayli drowsed and woke, drowsed and woke again, but still Randon did not return. Perhaps he was meeting with his advisers. Perhaps he was working with Terralt.

Perhaps he did not want to come.

When Randon arrived at what Kayli guessed must be nearly suppertime, he was neatly dressed and appeared better rested than when she had last seen him, but no less harried as he sat down in the chair by the bedside.

“Endra said you were stronger today,” he said, clasping her hand. “But, if you’ll pardon me saying so, you look worse than the night you arrived here. Can I get you anything?”

“Some water, please.” Kayli managed to smile despite the dull, cramping emptiness of her belly. “It seems I am back to soup and tea.”

“Stevann told me.” Randon grinned, too. “Well, it won’t be for long.” He helped her scoot up higher on the pillows, then handed her a cup of water. “Drink up. I’ve sent for your supper. I’ve been so busy, I just ate while I worked.”

“Busy?” Kayli prompted.

“Oh, Bright Ones, I don’t know who I
didn’t
see today,” Randon groaned. “Guards are looking for anyone selling or buying
arrabia.
All the mercantile houses, it seems, have sent envoys to swear that none of their caravans could possibly have carried in Sarkondish agents or poisons. My advisers are in an uproar.” He sighed. “Then there’s the slaves.”

“Slaves?” Kayli rasped.

“Four days ago we made our announcement to the heads of the guilds, or don’t you remember?” Random told her. “I think every craft hall in the city’s sent someone to ask about it. I finally drafted an official announcement today, and though I haven’t sent it out yet, already a dozen slaves have appeared mysteriously on my very doorstep—some with money, others with nothing, half speaking no Agrondish, all confused and terrified. Your Brother Santee has been helping to translate. Bright Ones, what a mess.” He shook his head ruefully.

“I am sorry.” Kayli squeezed his fingers. “Sorry for starting this, and then not being there to help you.”

“Well, blame whoever poisoned you, then,” Randon said flatly. “In the meantime don’t let it worry you. I gave Terralt charge of tracking down the owners and so on. Interestingly, he finds it a worthwhile cause.”

“He was here,” Kayli said when Randon paused.

“He was? When?” Randon asked, surprised.

“Near noon, perhaps.” She sipped a little more water. “He assured me that he had not poisoned me.”

“I never thought he did.” Randon sat back thoughtfully. “His complaint is with me, not you. Besides, his pride wouldn’t let him take the seat of Agrond by murder.”

“Then who?” Kayli whispered.

Randon gazed at her soberly.

“I don’t know,” he said. “The guards swore under truth spell that nobody was in the dining room but the servants and our guests. The servants were also cleared. I don’t want to blame any of my friends, the Bright Ones know, but who else is there?”

“You must not accuse them,” Kayli said as firmly as her ravaged throat would allow. “They may all be innocent At least some of them must be. You cannot lose their support”

“I don’t need the support of traitors,” Randon said, but he wore a troubled expression.

“There is no proof that they are traitors,” Kayli pressed. “Until you know otherwise, you must believe they are innocent your friends. And you need friends in this time.”
But on what friends shall I rely?
her mind cried.

“I don’t agree.” Randon sighed. “Unfortunately my advisers do. They say that without evidence to bring the guild heads in for questioning, I’ll gain nothing by antagonizing them.” He shook his head. “But on one point I’ll not be swayed: until our confirmation, every morsel you put in your mouth will be tasted by a servant first.”

“That would be of no use,” Kayli said gently. “With a slow poison such as
arrabia,
many hours might pass before any effects would be noticeable.”

“Then I’ll talk with Stevann about some kind of magical protection,” Randon said, undaunted.

Kayli only smiled at Randon’s concern. If the citizens of Agrond truly wished her dead, no food taster or spell could protect her forever.

“How have the people reacted to the news?” Kayli asked.

“I’ve been surprised,” Randon admitted. “The city guards report more outrage than I expected. Of course it’s frightening to the peasants to realize that their rulers are vulnerable, but it goes beyond that. Do you know, peasants are coming forward to expose lowlifes selling poisons in the alleys, and one of the city’s wise women sent a silver charm that’s supposed to turn black when it touches poison. Stevann says there’s not a grain of truth to it, but it’s a kind thought.”