The Crystal Chalice (Book 1) (26 page)

 She closed her eyes
again just as the landlady returned carrying a nightdress. “Here you are,” she
said, handing it to Celedorn. “She’s taller than me, and,” she chuckled, “an
awful lot slimmer but at least it’s dry. Now, some hot wine is what she needs
and some for you too, young man. You look just about finished yourself.”

 When she left, Celedorn
shook Elorin awake again and handed her the nightdress.

 “Change into that,” he
ordered, “and get into bed. I’m going to get some food. I’ll be back in a
moment.”

 She nodded vaguely and
he doubted if she had understood him but when he returned with the hot wine and
a plate of  meat and bread, he found her curled up on the floor in the
nightdress, the wet clothes discarded in a ring around her like fallen petals.
When he had picked her up and tucked her into bed, he stood looking down at her
for a moment before spreading her wet hair out across the pillow.

 “You need sleep more
than you need food, my girl,” he told the unconscious form.

 With a sigh, he shed
his own wet clothes and wrapped a blanket around himself. After eating ravenously,
he stretched out on the rug in front of the fire, enjoying the sensation of
warmth soaking into his back.

 “Not cold, not wet, not
hungry,” he remarked to the quiet room. “I think I must have died and gone to
heaven,” he chuckled with sudden self-mockery. “Except that they’d never let me
in.”

  When Elorin awoke, she
had no idea where she was. The white ceiling above her, criss-crossed with
carved oak beams, was unfamiliar. Turning her head on the pillow, she
encountered a latticed window, flanked by chintz curtains liberally splashed
with a pattern of pink roses. The view from the window was unencouraging - low,
sullen grey clouds. She supposed that if she sat up, she would obtain a better view
of her surroundings, but the effort required was too much to even think about.
She lay relaxed beneath the warm feather quilt, puzzled by her change in
circumstances but too tired to care. Her last vague memory was of struggling
through a dense stand of wet hazel trees and the hard feel of Celedorn’s arm
supporting her
.
Celedorn!

  With an effort she
raised her head, to discover that she was alone in the room. A fire burned
brightly in the hearth, flanked by comfortable padded armchairs. Against the
back wall of the room, a small table, covered in a white cloth, was set for
dining - but unfortunately without the food. Vaguely, she realised that she was
hungry and wondered dreamily if someone would come along soon and explain how
she got here. Her wish was soon granted. The door softly opened and a head
appeared around it. Not Celedorn, as she had been expecting, but a middle-aged,
matronly lady clad in an old-fashioned blue gown and apron. A little lace cap
was perched on top of her head and tied under her ample chin with blue ribbons.
When she saw that her guest was awake, she ventured further into the room.

 “I see you are awake at
last, my dear,” she observed in a kind voice.

 With a great effort,
Elorin raised herself on her elbow. “Do....do I know you?” she faltered.

 “I’m Mother Sorna. I am
the proprietress of this tavern. I met you last night, but you wouldn’t
remember that. It gave me quite a nasty turn to see you when your husband
brought you in. What a state you were in! So cold and white. For an awful
moment I thought that you were beyond human aid, but your husband knew just
what to do. If you don’t mind me saying so, my dear, but he was quite a
startling sight when he appeared carrying you in his arms, water streaming off
him, looking so haggard - apart from those dreadful.....well, never mind that.
Scared me out of my wits, he did. I can tell you, his wild appearance nearly
made me turn you both away, but then I saw how worried he was about you,
thinking nothing of himself, just concerned for you, well I changed my mind.
One must not, after all, judge by appearances,” she concluded virtuously.

 “I’m in Sirkris then?”

 “Yes indeed, and just
in the nick of time, by the looks of things. Those dratted creatures are up to
their tricks again,” she announced, obviously unimpressed by the Turog, “taking
advantage of any bad situation for their own wicked ends. But I have no doubt
the Ruling Council will know how to deal with them.”

 “Where is
Cel....my.....my husband?” Elorin stammered, hastily correcting herself.

 “He went out earlier to
buy some things for you. On my advice, he took your clothes to get the size
right. Men have no notion about these things. Goodness only knows what he will
come back with, but your clothes were in tatters and you were in no condition
to go out yourself. He told me that if you awoke, I was to bring you some food
and a hot bath. You see, I was right,” she added, pleased with this evidence of
her own percipience, “appearances can be deceptive.”

 Elorin sat up and
realised that she was wearing a nightdress she had never seen before.

 “Where did this come
from?”

 “That’s mine, dearie,
you needed something dry to wear and you had lost everything when your ship
foundered.  Nearly all the poor souls that arrived at our gates over the
last few days have lost all they possessed in the world. They say there has
never been such a storm. Why, even some warships from Serendar sank just at the
mouth of the harbour before they could get to safety, and all on board except a
very few were drowned. Even our own ships tied up at the quay, broke loose from
their moorings and smashed against the rocks. The seas forcing their way into
the Devil’s Dyke would have scared a person silly just to look at them, even
from the height of the cliffs.”

 “Is the storm over
now?”

 “Well, the wind has
dropped and it has stopped raining.” She crossed to the window and held back
the curtain. “The sky still looks a bit dirty but they say that the worst of it
has gone - and not a moment too soon. Why, we lost several slates off the roof
and it’s a miracle that next door’s chimney didn’t come down on us.”

 Elorin stared at her
owlishly, a little bemused by this recital.

 “Now,” said the
landlady, “I’ll bring you something to eat and then you can have your bath.”
She laughed. “I wouldn’t like to be the one to have neglected you when your
husband comes back.”

 When she returned with
some food for Elorin on a tray, she sat on the edge of the bed and to her
guest’s amusement, continued with her relentless flow of trivial conversation.
She asked questions which she answered herself, informed Elorin in intimate
detail about her relations, the state of her health, and her feud with a
recalcitrant neighbour. In the midst of this dialogue, two maids came in with a
small metal tub and some cans of hot water.

 “There now,” said
Mother Sorna, winding up her recital, “A nice hot bath by a coal fire is just
the thing for you. I’ve lent you a towel and a cake of my own rose-scented
soap. You’re looking better already, you know, all you need is a bit of colour
in your cheeks and you’ll be as right as rain. Now I’ll take myself off and
leave you to it. If you need anything else, just call.”

  She stayed in the bath
for a long time, luxuriating in the heat, letting the last lingering stiffness
melt away, then she washed her hair with the scented soap and wrapping herself
in the towel, knelt down by the fire to dry it.

 She was engaged in this
occupation when Celedorn returned. She looked up when the door opened and let
out a soft whistle of appreciation.

 “What a
transformation,” she declared. “Hair cut, clean shaven, and new clothes.”

 He grinned, not minding
in the least being teased. “Yes,” he agreed, “if it wasn’t for the face, I’d be
almost respectable.”

 He was clad in a grey
shirt, black breeches and boots, and one of the longish leather waistcoats
popular in the region. Under his arm he carried a large paper parcel tied with
string. He held it out to her.

 “Some clothes, madam,”
he said with a gleam of humour. “Not that I have any objection to your present
attire,” he added, his eye travelling downwards from her face to the edge of
the towel, which just revealed the beginnings of an intriguing curve. To his
amusement, when she detected the direction of his glance, she blushed scarlet and
hitched the voluminous towel more tightly around her. He handed her the parcel
and sat down in one of the armchairs to watch her open it.

 “If you don’t like the
clothes, don’t blame me. I just handed your old clothes to the woman in the
shop and let her get on with it.”

 Elorin lifted out a
pale blue shirt of fine cambric embroidered with white flowers at the collar.
Next came boots of the softest tan leather. One by one she lifted items of the
finest quality out of the parcel.

 She looked up at him.
“These are beautiful, Celedorn, but how did you pay for them?” An unwelcome
thought occurred to her. “You.....you didn’t steal them, did you?”

 He had been watching
her with a slight smile on his face, but his good humour vanished in a flash
and the black brows come down in something perilously close to a scowl.

 “No I didn’t steal
them,” He snapped angrily, unaware of the inconsistency of his indignation
given his past history. “They are paid for.”

 “But where did you get
the money?”

 “I sold something.”

 She glanced quickly at
his sword but it was still by his side. “What?”

 He hesitated before
saying ungraciously. “Very well, I suppose I’ll have to tell you. When I was
helping the fishermen at Skerris-morl, I found a perfect moonpearl
and.....er....kept the information to myself. I knew we would need money when
we returned to Serendar - I just didn’t expect to be spending it here.”

 Her eyes dropped before
his accusing stare. It occurred to her that his grey eyes could be as cold and
hard as any moonpearl.

 “I’m sorry,” she said
remorsefully, “but bearing in mind your past career, you can hardly be
surprised at my suspicions.” She drew a deep breath. “And while I’m at it, I
have another apology to make. I remember saying some things to you yesterday
that I didn’t really mean and.....I now regret.”

 He appeared to be
mystified. “What things?”

 “If I recall rightly, I
believe I told you I hated you.”

 He shrugged
dismissively in a characteristic gesture she had come to know well. “You have
every right to hate me.”

 “I have not!” she
declared roundly. “You saved me from drowning and dying of cold. I have every
cause to be grateful.”

 Her declaration,
however, met with an unexpected response. Fire smouldered in the grey eyes and
his mouth thinned with anger.

 “I don’t want your
gratitude,” he cut across her. “Like me, or hate me, it matters nothing to me
either way, but don’t ever show me gratitude.”

 She stared at him
nonplussed, quite astonished at the venom in his voice. Aware of how much he
had startled her, he moderated his tone.

 “I was the one who
insisted on a hostage and thus set in train the circumstances which led to all
of this. You have therefore no cause to be grateful to me.”

 But even as he said it,
she knew it wasn’t the true explanation for his outburst. His anger had been
too passionate, too intense for such a cause. She began to despair of ever
understanding him.

 He nodded to the shirt
still in her hand. “If I undertake to look undeviatingly out of the window,
will you get dressed? Or do you want me to leave?”

 “No...I....I trust
you,” she replied, still a little shaken by his outburst.

 “On my tour of the
town, I picked up some information that suggests we are not out of the woods
yet,” he informed her, his eyes following the speeding clouds across the sky.
“Trade is the breath of life to so small an island as Sirkris and she has
maintained her position here only because the strength of her navy has kept the
shipping lanes open, but most of her warships have been lost in the storm and
that devil-spawn in the Forsaken Lands know it. They may very well use the
opportunity to attack Sirkris and without her navy to protect her, she is
nothing but a fortress rising out of the sea and will have to stand siege as
such. Not something I think that we should get involved in.”

 “Surely Kelendore will
send help.”

 “In the normal course
of events, yes, they would, but they too have suffered from this accursed
storm. One almost wonders if it was natural at all, or something the Destroyer
has brewed up. Several warships from Serendar were wrecked on the rocks at the
entrance to the harbour.”

 “I know. Mother Sorna
told me. She said there were few survivors.”

 “The storm seems to
have caught everyone unawares - except those infernal creatures. Ships have
been wrecked by the score all along this coast. The guards at the towers have
had dozens of survivors coming in, but they were particularly jumpy last night
because there is a rumour that the Turog are massing beyond the Great Headland.
I would not like to be caught in Sirkris if, for only the second time since the
fall of the Old Kingdom, the rope-bridge has to be cut.”

 “You can turn around
now, I’m ready.”

 She made a trim figure
in breeches and boots with the blue shirt worn under a sleeveless tunic of
deeper hue, held neatly in at the waist by a broad belt. If she expected a
compliment from him, she was doomed to disappointment, for the only comment he
made was that he had told the shopkeeper she liked blue and it appeared that he
had been taken at his word.

 She smiled at him. “Am
I allowed to thank you, or do I risk being verbally annihilated again?”

 He grinned ruefully. “I
have a temper,” he admitted, as one making a heroic confession.

 Her eyes twinkled
appreciatively. “It’s as well you told me, for I would never have noticed.”

 “Hussy,” he remarked
without rancour. “Come and look around the town with me. I think you’ll like
it.”

 When they left the inn,
Elorin crossed the cobbled road and peered over the stone wall that guarded the
top of the cliff. Celedorn joined her and pointed out the harbour, so far below
them that they looked down on the snowy backs of the gulls circling the quays,
their greedy eyes searching for scraps.

 Elorin leaned forward
to get a better view and at once felt Celedorn’s hand gripping the collar of
her shirt.