Firewalk (33 page)

Kayli feared from his words that Terralt would hate the baby, blaming her for Ynea’s death, but the expression in Terralt’s eyes as he gazed upon his daughter reassured her. He gently fingered the infant’s raven hair and smiled, letting the tiny hand clasp his finger.

“She’s full of life,” he said proudly.

To Terralt’s dismay, Kayli picked up the baby and deposited her in his arms.

“Then give her a name,” she said firmly. “And tell her how you will cherish her.”

Terralt held the baby awkwardly, but his kiss on her forehead was without hesitation.

“I haven’t been much of a husband, or a father, either,” he said. “But I’ll do better by you...Kalendra.” He glanced at Kayli. “So we’ll never forget how hard both of you tried.” He sat down, still cradling the baby, but he spared Kayli another glance as she tried to slip out the door.

“Wait a moment,” he said. “Tell Randon he’ll have to do without me for a few days.” He smiled sadly. “My children need their father. Better late than not at all, I suppose.”

He was silent for a long moment, but Kayli hesitated, certain he had not finished what he wanted to say. At last Terralt cleared his throat awkwardly.

“And tell my brother he should come and see my new daughter,” he said at last, very slowly. “Anytime he likes.”

When Kayli returned to her quarters, she found Randon already halfway through a bottle of brandy. She was shocked; she had known him only for a few weeks, but in that time she had never seen him drink to excess, although Lidian’s stories hinted that he had sometimes overindulged in the past. Kayli hoped that Terralt’s words would cheer Randon, but when she told him what had happened, he only sighed and filled his cup again.

“Kalendra, eh?” he said. “Well, that was flattering of him. And very surprising. So what does she look like, little Kalendra?” He took a deep gulp from his cup, his hands shaking.

Kayli smiled.

“I often hear folk say that the new baby resembles the mother, or his eyes are like his father’s,” she said. “I myself think all newborn children are red, wrinkled lumps of flesh who do not much resemble anyone human. I think she will have Ynea’s straight black hair, however, not Terralt’s curls, and her eyes are dark like Ynea’s, though that often changes with time.”

Randon said nothing, only sighed raggedly and ventured deeper into his cup, and in the silence, a disturbing thought grew in Kayli’s mind. She pulled up a chair and laid her hand on his arm; when he still would not meet her eyes, she took a deep breath.

“Randon,” she said slowly, “is she yours?”

“I don’t know,” he said dully. “From what you say, perhaps not. But Derrin almost certainly is.”

Kayli was shocked to silence, and when she said nothing, Randon took a deep breath and continued grimly.

“She was so unhappy when her father sent her here. Terralt wasn’t very understanding. He was angry when she didn’t conceive in the first few months after she arrived, and when he wasn’t taking her to his bed, he left her alone. She was so lonely, and we’d talk sometimes, and—well, there’s no need to say more. Stevann joked that Derrin had our father’s looks, but I’m afraid my father wasn’t to blame.

“I felt terrible about what I’d done, especially when bearing the baby weakened her so much. She was never the same after that. Stevann said she shouldn’t have any more children, but she had Avern and Erisa so soon. And as Terralt spent more and more time working with my father, he seemed to forget Ynea entirely. One evening I found her crying. She said that she wanted to die, that now that she’d borne him three children, she was worthless to him.” Randon shook his head. “I couldn’t bear to see her weep like that. And she conceived Kalendra almost immediately. But in the meantime Terralt had decided he wanted one more child, too. So Ynea had some use to him again.”

“Oh, Randon.” Kayli sighed, not knowing what else to say. “Does Terralt know?”

“I think he’s suspected ever since Derrin was born,” Randon said miserably. “I didn’t know which would hurt him worse, to tell him the truth or keep silent. Then I thought how angry he’d be with Ynea, so I said nothing.” He met Kayli’s eyes. “I swear to you that I never touched Ynea again after she conceived Kalendra, and that was well before I knew about my father’s plans for our wedding. Why, I hardly even saw her, not even in public.”

Kayli felt an unwilling twinge of sympathy for him. What a burden of guilt he must carry, to have lain with another man’s wife, and to have fathered the child that had hurt Ynea so much, the child she had borne too young. And possibly, Kayli reminded herself, the child Ynea had died bearing. In Bregond penalties for adultery were harsh, and girls rarely married before their moon cycles had been regular for at least a year. There were violations of both rules, of course, but not often.

“You must not blame yourself,” she said at last. “Whether the seed of her first child was yours or Terralt’s would have made no difference, and no skilled midwife would have permitted her to bear so often, so young. But you could not have changed what happened.”

There were other things she might have said to comfort him—that he had likely given Ynea the only happiness the poor girl had known since she married Terralt, that it was Terralt who had forbidden the healers who might—possibly—have made a difference in the outcome of events. But although her selfishness shamed her, she thought to herself that Randon had no right to expect comfort from her at this moment. No more had Terralt, but while it might be selfish and even cruel to allow Randon to berate himself with guilt, it would be unthinkable to let Terralt neglect his newborn daughter as he had neglected his wife and his other children. But in both cases, a little guilt was not necessarily a bad thing. Kayli herself would have to live with her own guilt that selfish pleasures had kept her from her friend’s deathbed.

Kayli looked up and found Randon gazing at her soberly.

“Kayli, you have my promise,” he said, “that as long as you live there’ll never be another—”

Kayli held up her hand.

“All the promises I want from you, you made on our wedding day, as did I,” she said. “If we cannot trust each other to honor those promises, then there is nothing to be gained in making more.”

Randon said nothing, only sighed raggedly and gathered Kayli into his arms. He held her silently, but she could feel hot tears soaking through her tunic at the shoulder.

Not too surprisingly, Randon awakened in the middle of the night with one of his strange headaches; when Kayli had given him his potion, however, and ordered his ice and tea from the kitchen, she insisted on summoning Endra. The sleepy midwife asked Randon a series of seemingly irrelevant questions, gazed into his eyes, sniffed at his potion, and clucked disapprovingly.

“Nothing but a glorified sleeping draught,” she said scornfully. “To cure an ill like this, you have to pull it up by the root, not just trim the leaves off at the top.”

“But what can be done?” Kayli asked her. “Surely such cases were seen at the healing Orders.”

“Well, they were,” Endra told her. “Mind you, I didn’t tend them myself; I didn’t have enough of the gift. No, the healers had a ritual that gave them ease for a time, but quick as they were fit to ride, they were sent to one of the temples for testing. Was he ever tested for the mage-gift, do you know?”

“He said Stevann wanted to train him,” Kayli remembered. “But his father refused permission.”

“Well, there you are,” Endra said, shaking her head. “All those magical energies with nowhere to go, so he turns them inward on himself. Pity it’s too late to take him in hand for proper training now. Well, at least he can learn to ground those energies. The Fire temples don’t teach grounding, do they? No, the ephemeral magics can’t be grounded, that’s what I’ve heard. Don’t worry, I’ll show him the trick of it myself.”

In the morning, Kayli crept quietly out to the kitchen to break her fast so as not to disturb Randon’s sleep, but to her embarrassment, she was met on the stairs by a messenger bearing two scrolls bound for Randon—and one carried a seal that made her heart leap, the seal of her father’s house. Only the greatest of self-discipline kept her from opening the scroll where she stood; surely Agrondish custom demanded that she break the seal in Randon’s presence, if not before his advisers. Fortunately, by the time the servants had prepared a tray of food and Kayli had carried it and the scrolls back up to their quarters, Randon was awake and moodily sipping cold tea beside the rekindled fire.

“This will cheer you, I hope,” she said. “Two messages: one from my father, and one from your garrison at the border. Need we summon the council?”

Randon shook his head, his expression brightening as he accepted the scrolls.

“Just what I’ve been hoping for,” he said. He broke the seal on his garrison’s message, then hesitated, handing the scroll to Kayli.

“Just read it for me, would you?” he asked rather embarrassedly. “It’s dim in here, and my eyes still ache.”

“‘To High Lord Randon and High Lady Kayli,’ and the usual endless titles and honorifics. ‘Greetings,’” Kayli read. “‘As you commanded, we saw your caravan safely across the borders of Bregond, where we parted company with the wagons. We then turned north along the border and have established our troops at the border of Bregond, just north of the village of Jaylind. We have constructed a wooden barracks and stable with the assistance of the villagers, who are delighted at our presence. Since our arrival we have engaged no less than four bands of Sarkondish raiders, three approaching from the north and one from the northwest. Two bands we slaughtered altogether. Another we killed all but two, who escaped by riding northwest through Bregond. As we had no authority to cross onto Bregondish soil, we did not pursue. The last band, larger than the previous three, turned back to the north as soon as they sighted our troops. Since these victories, the people of Jaylind have taken to leaving gifts of food just outside the stockade. This generosity is embarrassing in view of the poverty of this village, due to its being continually raided before our arrival.

“‘Eight days before my writing of this message, we sighted what appeared to be a considerable force of riders approaching from the southwest. These riders stopped across the border and three envoys approached, calling out in halting Agrondish to ask permission to meet with me. Although we conversed with some difficulty, it became apparent that these troops were sent by High Lord Elaasar of Bregond at your invitation to assist us in guarding the border. We were grateful for their presence in view of the raiders who had approached and fled across Bregondish land. These troops quickly constructed large tents of poles and hide, rather than wood buildings, barely in sight to the west. They brought with them what looks to be over two hundred head of cattle, both to feed them and to serve as bait for Sarkondish raiders. This was a good thought as the fat herd may tempt the raiders away from Jaylind and a Bregondish village which I am told lies southwest.

“‘They are good men but very stiff and strange. We do not invite them to our fires, nor they us to theirs, but we meet at the border every day, and once we made a large fire between the two garrisons to converse and try to learn each other’s tongues more fluently. They freely share their slaughtered cattle and the cheeses they brought with them. In return I have taken the liberty of giving them several bags of grain and bushels of turnips and beans and dried apples. From these soldiers I have word that there is difficulty in Bregond, groups of nomads threatening to kill merchants crossing from Agrond, and threats to Bregondish craftsmen planning to ship their goods east.

“‘Yesterday another riding party approached from the west. These riders were envoys from High Lord Elaasar sent to inspect the encampment and to deliver to my hand a message from the High Lord to you. I am sending this message with my report. I sent back with the envoys a gift of good black tea from my own stock for the High Lord and Lady of Bregond, with my personal thanks for the friendliness of his troops.

“‘All in all our progress has been encouraging in every way. With the doubled force at the border,
I
have no doubt that we could withstand all but an outright force of war from Sarkond. I have a good stock of messenger birds, and should the need arise for speedy communication, you should receive word from us very quickly. With the greatest of optimism, I remain loyal in your service’ and all the usual closing pleasantries.” Kayli handed the scroll back to Randon.

“Excellent news.” Randon sighed with relief. “I couldn’t have hoped for better. Still, four raids in less than a month! Have your folk ever known so much activity at the border?”

Kayli sighed, too, but with irritation.

“Unfortunately at the Order we were isolated from such news,” she said regretfully. “My father, of course, would be better informed. Four attacks within one moon cycle, that sounds unusual. Perhaps his message will tell us more.”

Randon was sufficiently cheered that he squinted over the second scroll himself, pausing so long before he spoke that Kayli longed to tear the scroll from his hands.

“Besides the usual pleasantries, he congratulates us on our confirmation,” he said. “He also thanks me for the invitation to station his troops at the border and hopes that our two forces can work amiably together toward the common goal of—ha!—‘wetting the soil with goodly quantities of Sarkondish blood.’ And listen to this, Kayli: ‘Brother Santee informs me you have had the presumption to get my daughter with child before wedding her in the sight of the people. I will pardon you this dishonor as my daughter is a woman of great accomplishment who can well decide when to permit her betrothed between her legs.’ By the Bright Ones, your father’s a plain-spoken man! What’s this?” Randon was silent again for a long moment, his brows shooting up as he read.

“He suggests that if matters continue successfully at the border, that a meeting be held there, that he and his lady can meet with us to celebrate midsummer. Bright Ones, that’s not a bad idea.” He paused thoughtfully. “It’ll mean additional troops, of course, but if we meet far south of Jaylind, it should be safe enough, I’d think. But what do you say?”