The Iron Palace (45 page)

“Spring will bring the blood we need.”

“The mother’s blood?”

“Yes,” replied Gorm, his eyes alight. “She’ll come on her own accord, bound by the doom that binds the world.”

B
Y THE
time Yim awoke, the glowing sphere that lit the downy chamber had grown dim. The light it shed was no longer the rosy shade of dawn, but the soft blue of twilight. Yim looked about and saw that she was alone; even the rabbits had departed. Her first thought was of Honus.
Thistle said I needn’t fear to tup him
, she thought, feeling a warm flush of excitement. For a moment, she wondered if she could trust Thistle’s word.
She’s no ordinary girl
, Yim reminded herself, recalling how Lila—another faerie-kissed child—had known about her feelings for Honus.
Thistle’s no different
. Moreover, Yim desperately wanted to believe her.

Yim felt something in her hand and saw the walnut comb. It reminded her that Thistle had spoken of far grimmer matters. That dampened Yim’s mood until she recalled that Thistle had said she should go to Bahland in the spring. “That’s moons away,” said she aloud, thinking of all the
bliss she could fit into that span. With that in mind, Yim was eager to leave the tower. The idea of dressing in the snow was unpleasant, and Yim wanted to get it over quickly. She slithered up the narrow, twisting tunnel as fast as she could manage, steeling herself for the cold that waited. On her second turn, Yim saw greenish light ahead and sped up her pace.

Even before Yim emerged from the burrow, she was puzzled. By the time she exited the hole, she was stunned. There was no snow. Nor were there dead plants. Instead, the interior of the tower was filled with greenery and spring flowers. The oak had shed its brown leaves and was sprouting new ones. Yim looked for her gown and found it blown to the ground. A few shoots had even pushed through the fabric. She could find only one shoe, and some animal had thoroughly gnawed it.

Dressing in the mild air, Yim hoped that the change of seasons was limited to the confines of the tower and the outside world would still be wrapped in winter. When Yim walked to the opening in the tower wall, her wishful thinking was dashed; the countryside was in the flush of spring. She had “napped” through her stretch of potential bliss, and that made her angry.
Why did Thistle trick me?
It seemed cruel until she recalled that Thistle had told her she was safe in the tower. In that light, Yim’s nap likened to the time when she had evaded Lord Bahl by hibernating with a bear.

Although disappointed, Yim forgave Thistle. She sighed and said to herself, “I can only hope Honus is still here.” Yim was about to cross the log when she noticed a garland in the pathway. It was woven from violets and looked so fresh that Yim glanced about to see if Thistle had just tossed it there. She saw no sign of the girl. As Yim placed the garland on her head, she caught its sweet, spicy fragrance. It stirred earthy feelings that seemed especially appropriate to the season. Yim thought of how fine a spring night would be for love, and her lips curved into a voluptuous smile. She
remained smiling as she skipped across the log, climbed down to the courtyard, and hurried to the manor house.

When Yim entered the manor, she could hear the sounds of talk and dining coming from the banquet hall. She peered in its doorway and saw Honus seated at the head table. The meal was an informal one with less than two dozen diners, and Yim had no qualms about interrupting it. Her bare feet made virtually no sound upon the wooden floor, but soon her footsteps were the loudest sound in the hall. Her sudden appearance silenced everyone.

Honus stared at her, transfixed. Yim gazed back at him, ignoring all the other eyes upon her, yet feeling them nonetheless. She was fully aware that she had become the personification of desire. Her eyes, her lips, her every movement bespoke of a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and believed that she deserved it. A heady scent of violets and musk filled the hall, transforming all the diners into flushed-faced statues.

Her eyes ever on Honus, Yim mounted the stairs with sensuous slowness, enjoying the way her hips and breasts moved beneath the fabric of her gown. Her every movement conveyed her feeling that she was both the essence of womanhood and its perfection. Although she hadn’t eaten in moons, the smell of food had no affect on her. She was gripped by a different hunger, one that had been denied far longer. Striding up to Honus, Yim softly stroked his face. “Come,” she said, her voice low and earthy. “We’ve waited far too long.”

Honus rose from the bench like a man in a dream who is helpless yet willing. No other words were spoken. In the perfection of the moment, the conventions of courtesy seemed meaningless. Yim silently took Honus’s hand, and the two departed the hall as those left behind watched dumbstruck. Neither said a word until they reached Honus’s room beneath the eaves. It was strewn with so many violets that Yim crushed them with every step, releasing their scent. Yet the
unexpected flowers seemed less a marvel than the rapture she felt. “Honus, I’ve loved you ever since our spirits mingled when I restored your life.” It was the first time that Yim had admitted her deed, yet Honus didn’t seem surprised. “Our love wasn’t Karm’s gift,” she whispered, “it was yours. And I want—I
need
—to experience it fully.” Yim kissed his lips. “Make love to me.”

It seemed to Yim that Honus’s face softened before her eyes, the way a craggy mountain softens in spring. His fingertips touched her face as gently as a warm breeze. His touch was his answer, and it spoke to her of his tenderness, longing, and adoration. It was also suffused with primal urgency that more than hinted of a memorable night ahead.

Honus’s lips softly brushed hers. They lingered there, growing more hungry and passionate as they embraced. When Yim felt that she could no longer stand to have anything between her body and Honus, she pulled off her gown with his help. It felt wonderful to be naked before him, to see his eyes take in her body and feel his hands explore it. She briefly luxuriated in his caresses before she removed his clothes, so she could rediscover his body.

When they were both nude, they retreated to the bed. As the light coming from the dormer window faded, fingers, lips, and tongues did the work of eyes. Yim felt she was a musical instrument strummed by a master. The sweetness of his playing was as delightful as it was new. When he finally entered her, Yim was ready and expectant. She shuddered with delight. Soon joy and pleasure mounted ever higher until it spread like waves surging over her body. She trembled and cried out in ecstasy. Warmth that was more than warmth flowed through her, leaving happy contentment that washed away the taint and pain of her nightmare tryst with Lord Bahl.

“Yim … Yim … Yim,” whispered Honus, his voice as soft and sweet as syrup. He spoke her name like a Seer chanting to the goddess, each word rich with reverence and
devotion. She felt truly and totally loved, and it made her want to weep with happiness. She kissed Honus instead.

“That was truly my first time,” Yim said. “What happened before never counted.”

“Was it worth so long a wait?” asked Honus.

Yim kissed her reply, then giggled. “You know what’s the best thing about sleeping for five moons straight? I’m not the least bit sleepy.”

“How about hungry?”

Yim moaned. “Oh, why did you say that? I’m suddenly starving.”

Honus got out of bed and pulled on his pants. “I’ll see if I can get something from the pantry.” He opened the door and found a tray on the floor in the hallway. On it was a jug of wine, two goblets, and all manner of delicacies. He brought the tray into the room. “I suspect we have Cara to thank for this. She’s always been the romantic.”

Yim smiled. “If she had her way, we’d have tupped long ago in the Bridge Inn.” Her expression turned serious. “And Lord Bahl would have overrun Averen and the whole world, I suppose.”

“You’ve always put others before your own desires,” said Honus.

“Not tonight!” Yim’s smile returned and blossomed into a grin. “Let’s eat! But before you join me, take off those pants.”

They ate nude by candlelight. The food included a small fowl, bread, cheese, and a wide variety of sweets. After Yim took the edge off her hunger, she dipped her fingers into a bowl of honey and smeared some on her nipples. “Well,
somebody
better lick this off,” she said. That began a lover’s game in which honey was smeared in ever more imaginative places. It concluded with lovemaking on the flower-strewn floor.

Afterward, they ate some more, brushed violets from their moist skin, and retired to bed. There, Yim declared
that in homage to Karm she intended to kiss the length of each scar Honus had received in the goddess’s service. By then, the candle had burned out, and she was forced to find each one by feel. She managed, although Honus had an extensive collection of old wounds, and she made up a few as she went.

Honus reciprocated, but he didn’t have to search for Yim’s injuries. He knew them all by heart. First he kissed the small mark on her foot where the dark man had paralyzed her with his venomed sword. Yim was surprised that he knew about it, for she had lied about that encounter. Then he kissed the scar made by an arrow on the night Hommy was slain. It was on Yim’s back and he was the one who had stitched it closed. Next he kissed the mark on her chin made by a peasant intent on her death. She had received that one as Honus’s Bearer. Last of all, he kissed the long gash in her neck, the other wound she had lied to him about.

Afterward, they tupped one more time in a leisurely way that was more about intimacy and togetherness than passion. That finally spent them, and entangled together, they drifted off to sleep where they entered each other’s dreams.

There were ewers of water and a copper tub outside Yim and Honus’s door. They discovered them when they rose at midmorning. The water had cooled, but Yim was glad for a chance to bathe. Honus washed her and she washed him. It was pleasantly arousing, and if Yim hadn’t felt sore, she might have pulled Honus back into bed. Instead, she suggested that they go to breakfast.

“Cara will be waiting,” warned Honus.

“Of course,” said Yim. “There’ll be no evading her. We’re lucky she didn’t wake us.”

They dressed and went down to the room off the kitchen where the house hold ate the morning porridge. The room was empty, except for Cara. She was beaming. “Well, Yim,
you certainly made an entrance last night! I tingle just recalling it.”

“I suppose you want to know what happened,” said Honus.

“Zounds, Honus. Do I want to know the sun rises in the morn? Or that the lake is watery? I’m a married woman with an excellent imagination. I’m na curious, I’m happy for you both. And about time, too! So, Yim, what did Violet tell you that I didn’t say before?”

“That it’d be safe.”

“Safe? I do na understand.”

“You know of the thing within me. She assured me that it could do no harm.”

“Na harm? Well,
that’s
for sure. You look wonderful. Honus, too. Mayhap now you’ll think twice about that trip to you know where and choose happiness instead.”

“Thistle told me other things,” said Yim. “She also said that I should leave in the spring.”

Upon that statement, both Honus and Cara stared at Yim. The atmosphere in the room transformed as Yim’s eyes welled with tears. Although she was certain that Honus and she would make love again and share moments of tenderness, she felt the previous night would never be duplicated. Her words had unleashed a sense of doom that could never dissipate until she had done what she must do. Better than anyone, Yim understood both the terrible price of inaction as well as the horrors she would face.

Honus grasped Yim’s hand and gently squeezed it. “When do you wish to leave?”

Yim sighed. “As soon as we can.”

There were no maps of Bahland in the hall. Cara doubted any could be found outside of Bremven, for Lord Bahl’s domain was a place few people visited. Nevertheless, she made inquiries and learned of a man who knew something of Bahland because his brother had traveled there. Cara sent
for him and he came the following day. The man was a fur trader named Datlan, a lean, middle-aged fellow with a weather-beaten face and a long red beard and matching hair. He met with Honus and Yim in a small room off the entrance hall.

“Clan Mother says you want to go to Bahland,” said Datlan. “Take my advice and stay home.”

“But your brother made the trip,” said Yim.

“Aye, Tommic went there twice to sell black wolf pelts. But he came back only once. They don’t take to outsiders, even those with goods they want. Tommic came to harm, I’m certain of it.”

“Why?” asked Honus.

“Because black priests run every settlement and enforce Bahl’s laws. Your tattooed face is a capital offense. So’s bearing a sword or dagger. And traveling without a black robe’s leave, well, that dooms you, too. There’s lots of laws to break, and every trial ends on the Dark Path.”

“So, we’ll travel disguised as cursed ones,” said Honus.

“That will na work,” said Datlan. “Cursed ones are buried alive.”

“Then we’ll avoid all towns and villages. Is Bahland thickly settled?”

“Tommic said few dwell near the coast, for there are high cliffs and the land’s poor.”

“Then we’ll go that way,” said Honus.

“Honus, your face will doom you,” said Yim. “I should go alone.”

“My runes say otherwise. It’s Karm’s will.”

“Karm decrees nothing, except that everyone is free to choose.”

“And I choose to go with you, even if it means my death. I won’t abide another separation.”

“You’re both daft,” said Datlan.

“We probably are,” said Yim. “But since we’re going, do you have any other advice?”

“ ’Tis cold in Bahland this time of year. Dress warm, but na well. Folks there favor drab clothes and wear them till they’re rags. Trust no one. Avoid the black robes. May I ask what’s worth your life to go?”

“I’ve a son there,” said Yim.

“Then you’re a brave and loving mother,” said Datlan. He shook his head. “But a foolish one.”