[Shadowed Path 02] - Candle in the Storm (22 page)

TWENTY
-
THREE

THE ROOM
was small, plain, and tucked under the eaves, so its ceiling sloped. It was furnished with shelves full of scrolls and a single table, which was currently covered with maps. Cronin used his rush candle to light oil lamps above the table. When there was sufficient illumination, he turned to Yim. “I have a temper,” he said, “and I regret what I said last night. I’m a soldier with rough soldier’s ways.”

“But a good heart,” said Yim. “Meeting you and Cara changed my life.”

“I hope ‘twas for the better.” Cronin gave Yim a smile, but it was an uneasy one. “Are you sure you do na want Honus here?”

“This is between you and me. Please speak frankly.”

“Then tell me this before I talk of tactics and battles: Will I be wasting my time? Last night you said I fight a god and victory’s impossible.”

“I believe you’ll not be truly fighting Bahl, but his master—the Devourer.”

“Then it seems to me that Bahl must be fighting Karm.”

“That’s likely true,” said Yim, “but the goddess and the Devourer seek different things. Bahl’s master craves death, and cares not who dies. I think that opposing such a foe with arms is like using oil to douse a fire.”

“What you say has some sense to it,” said Cronin. “If you claim that killing Bahl’s men will please his god, I will na disagree. But think upon this: Killing one wolf saves many sheep. Bahl’s men will never stop slaying until they’re slain. They never tire. They’re never sated. A sword can do Karm’s work, otherwise she’d have na need for Sarfs.”

“What did you say to Honus last night?” asked Yim. “Not that, I think.”

“You’re right. Honus knows all about Bahl’s forces. How they outnumber us and fight on heedless of their wounds. Last night I told him there’s but one place where we might overcome them, one place where the terrain favors us.”

“Such talk would not leave him distraught.” Yim looked Cronin squarely in the eye. “You evoked my death to win him to your cause.”

“I did,” said Cronin. “And I do na repent it. If we fail, there is na hope. You may flee all the way to Bremven, but ‘twill only postpone death. Bahl will come there also. If you can na stop him, you can na escape him. Cara sees that. She’s na holding back, but sending every man who’s fit to fight.”

“So I shouldn’t hold Honus back either?”

“He wants to save you, and he can do that only by my side.”

Yim lay awake as Cara slept. It was long after her meeting with Cronin, and long after Cara had given up trying to find out what Yim had decided. In truth, Yim was far from a decision; she had only promised to make one. Cronin had done his best to get her to commit Honus to the cause. Using maps, he had shown how a range of mountains worked
 as a funnel to force an advancing army through Tor’s Gate. Yim had peered at the old maps so long that she could recall the shapes of the peaks drawn so carefully there in shades of colored ink.

The peaks had been labeled, as had the valleys, lakes, and rivers, but Yim remembered none of their names. She had been too busy imagining Honus marching through them. Marching away from her. Marching to…
 
What? Everything’s so uncertain. If he goes with Cronin, will he be going to his death, or will staying here doom him?
 
Honus wanted her to live. She wanted him to live.
 
And what does Karm want?
 
That hadn’t changed: Yim was supposed to bear a child. Yim wondered if Cara had been right and circumstances had made it impossible.
 
Perhaps the man who was supposed to father my child is dead 
. Then again, perhaps the correct decision on Yim’s part would save him. Yim could only speculate; she had no way of telling which course to take.

Yim’s only hope lay in receiving a vision, and even that seemed a faint hope. Karm’s messages were both sporadic and ambiguous. Yim suspected that she would have to make up her mind without guidance. Nevertheless, she resolved to put off making a choice until forced to do so, just in case Karm revealed her will. If Lila was right and the end was approaching, then the goddess had only a short time to express her wishes.

Deciding not to decide calmed Yim a bit, but it also allowed her thoughts to wander in other directions. They quickly focused on Honus. He had been upset to discover that she had been among the refugees with Cara. Yim could tell because he was especially respectful, calling her “Karmamatus” as he pointed out the dangers of venturing forth without a Sarf. “Remember the priest who attacked you?” Honus had asked. “He had a poisoned blade.” Yim worried what would happen if she told Honus that he must go with
 Cronin. She knew he would obey, but she was fearful of what that obedience would cost him.
 
And me 
.

Yim was seized by the urge to creep into Honus’s room and wake him.
 
What would I say?
 
The fact that two others were sharing his bed and she was sharing Cara’s complicated the matter. It also made her aware that it wasn’t conversation she desired.
I just want to be close to him 
. Memories of sleeping on the ground, her body pressed against Honus’s for warmth, filled her head. Want became need. Nevertheless, Yim fought her desire and remained with Cara.

When Yim finally drifted off to sleep, she dreamed of Honus. He was alone and walking down an empty road. It was nighttime and raining heavily. Honus bore a wooden staff, not a sword. Neither was he dressed as a Sarf. He wore filthy rags instead. Dirty cloths were wrapped about his hands and feet like bandages. A similar cloth had slipped from his face. Honus looked haggard. But his eyes were what disturbed Yim most. They seemed not to be gazing at the living world. They appeared empty and profoundly sad.

When sunlight filled the room, Yim awoke alone and haunted by her dream. Envisioning Honus worn and ragged on a lonely road aroused her compassion. She quickly dressed and hurried to the room off the kitchen. Honus wasn’t there. The serving woman who had met Yim the previous morning was. “Where’s my Sarf?” asked Yim, trying to sound calm and almost disinterested.

The serving woman bowed. “He said to tell you that he’s studying maps.”

Yim turned and left without a thought of breakfast. She found Honus alone in the room beneath the eaves. He was bent over one of Cronin’s maps, his fingers tracing the contours of a mountain ridge. Honus straightened as soon as he saw Yim, then bowed his head. She rushed over to him before he could speak.

In her dream, Honus’s tattooed cheeks had been furrowed with lines. Yim felt the need to erase that image by stroking Honus’s face. Her fingertips glided over his smooth, firm skin, and then before she knew it, they guided his head toward hers. Their lips met, and Yim felt as she had on that night when she returned from the Dark Path. She kissed Honus, and the sensation was heightened by pent-up passion. Her feelings had urgency to them, like hunger or the need to breathe. Yim was certain that Honus felt the same.

Seizing Honus’s hand, Yim guided it to her breast. He touched her through the fabric of her shirt. His fingers were gentle, exploring her contours before working their way to her nipple. It was rigid when he brushed it. While he touched her, he kissed her also. It felt wonderful, but it spurred Yim’s desire rather than satisfied it. Yim’s hand went up to her shirt to unfasten its buttons. When she had undone three, Honus’s hand slipped past the opening. Then Yim felt the warmth of his fingers on her breast. She was amazed that so delicate a touch could have so strong an effect. A warm tingling was spreading through her, as if Honus’s touch had lit a wildfire.

Then Yim heard the tread of boots upon floorboards. At the sound, she and Honus pulled apart. Before Yim could button her shirt, Cronin appeared in the doorway. Yim could feel her face flush red when Cronin saw her unbuttoned shirt and a ghost of a smile crept onto his lips. “You need na say your farewells yet,” he said. “We will na leave for three days.”

“I haven’t reached my decision,” said Yim. “I’m waiting for divine guidance.”

Yim could see that Cronin was disappointed, although he did his best to hide it. “Of course, you’re a Bearer.”

“I will say yea or nay before the time comes, whether Karm sends me a sign or not.”

Cronin bowed his head slightly. “That’s all I can ask. Well, I’ll leave you to yourselves.”

Yim buttoned her shirt to the sound of Cronin’s retreating footsteps before she looked at Honus. “I’m sorry. That was unfair to you.”

“It was my fault,” said Honus. “I should’ve been stronger.”

“All I want …” Yim paused to wipe her eyes. “All I want is a happy ending.” She smiled bitterly. “How foolish.”

“Karmamatus …”

“What a silly name for me. ‘Karm’s beloved,’ indeed! Oh, why did she pick me for this? I was just a little girl. No one special.”

“You’ve become someone special,” said Honus. “Cara spoke of how you calmed the children.”

“Yet I can’t calm myself. What am I to do, Honus? Time’s running out, and I must decide.”

“You’ll decide, and your decision will be wise.”

Yim smiled, unsurprised by Honus’s confidence in her. Still, it made her feel somewhat better. “Well, I’ve decided to have some porridge. That is, if they’ll serve slugabeds here.”

Honus followed Yim to the room off the kitchen where they found Cara. “Good morning, Yim,” she said in a perky voice. “‘tis good to see you about after last night. A troubled mind makes for a restless sleep, and you were tossing and turning like a pup with fleas. But I’ve just the cure for troubles—an outing. Today, I deliver Dar’s Gift.”

Yim didn’t know what Cara was talking about. “Wherever we go, Honus must accompany us.”

“He can ride in the boat if you insist,” said Cara. “But he must get off at the far shore, for na man may enter the dell.”

“Boat?” said Yim, feeling uneasy at the prospect. “And what dell?”

“Cara intends to take you to Faerie,” said Honus.

“Do na fret, Honus,” said Cara. “Yim will be perfectly safe. I know. Do na ask me how, but I do, and that’s the end
 of it. So 
must 
you truly come? There’s nathing like a man to spoil a good conversation.”

“That’s up to Yim,” said Honus. He turned to face her. “If I escort you to and from the boat, you should be safe otherwise.”

Yim glanced at Cara, who bore such a pleading expression that it made her smile. “Honus, you may stay here if Cara promises not to drown me.”

Cara grinned. “I swear you will na drown.” She made the Sign of the Balance. “I’ve never drowned anyone yet, and I promise na to start today.”

A while later, Cara, Yim, and Honus made their way to the lakeshore. Yim and Cara wore garlands of sky-blue asters in their hair, and Cara carried a basket containing a huge sphere of cheese. It was three hand-lengths in diameter, and its surface was golden brown with beeswax. There were several boats tied to the dock, but it was obvious which one they were going to take. It was a slender wooden vessel with two seats, a single pair of oars, and a curved prow and stern, both wrapped with cables of asters.

Cara helped Yim into her seat before climbing aboard herself. Then they were off, leaving Honus behind. Yim watched his form appear to grow ever smaller as Cara rowed farther into the lake. It was perfectly calm and each oar stroke left expanding sky-colored ringlets on the dark green water. Cara sighed. “‘tis so peaceful here.” She sighed again as if to emphasize the point. “‘tis good to leave the world behind awhile. I used to come with Mother when she brought Dar’s Gift. ‘twas always a special day.”

“Now will you tell me what we’re doing?” asked Yim. “You were so mysterious before.”

“That’s because ‘tis mysterious business we’re about. Na man may know, na even Brother.” Cara pointed toward a gorge that split the mountains at the western end of the lake. “See that tree with leaves of gold?”

Yim glazed in the direction Cara pointed. The leaves on a single tree had turned bright yellow, making it stand out against the green forest. “Isn’t it early for trees to turn color?”

“Na in Averen. Another moon may likely bring the first snow. But that tree always changes first, and it does so overnight. ‘tis the sign that Dar’s Gift is due.”

“Gift? To whom?”

“The Old Ones in the dell.”

“You mean faeries?”

“Aye, faeries. When Dar settled here, she made a pact with them.”

Yim was intrigued and knew that Cara would need little encouragement to tell the entire story. “Is this Dar Beard Chin you speak of?”

“Aye, but the beard was only a tattoo. She got it when she became an orc.”

Yim smiled. “An orc? Do you mean a goblin?”

“‘Urkzimmuthi’ is the proper name, but aye, she became an orc. Na on the outside, but in her spirit. She was a slave before that, like you. But she ran away and was the orcs’ queen awhile. Then she came here with an Averen man named Sevren and a golden tree. It looked like my brooch, except my brooch is only gilt silver and hers was solid gold and as big as two hands.

“She and Sevren were seeking land, and this valley was all she could get. A chieftain traded it for her gold only because he believed the ground was cursed. And ‘twas, for na one could live here. Folk tried, but they always left. Crops failed overnight, wolves took livestock, game fled, and ‘twas worth your life to venture on the lake. But Dar had a vision from the world’s mother …”