The Pearls (7 page)

She frowned. “It must have been dreadful. The
quai
…everything here is so disturbed…tainted. Their souls do not lie easy.”

Thirbe cleared his throat in concern. “Whatever ghosts and bad
hoojoo
you're talking about, best we ride through here fast and get on to somewhere better.”

“Yes,” she said, still feeling shaken. She touched her necklace to draw strength from it. “I agree we'd better go on.”

“What's the matter?” asked Captain Hervan, suddenly pushing his horse through the milling cavalrymen. His gaze swept over her, and he frowned. “Great Gault, my lady. How pale you are. You're unwell!”

“No, I—”

Before she could explain, he was off his horse and at her side, pulling her from the saddle without heed for her protests.

“I told you that riding would fatigue you,” he said, his arm still around her for support. “Let us rest a bit.”

“No!”

But he wasn't listening to her, as usual. He called up a sergeant and issued orders for the horses to be watered and dry rations to be issued.

“I shall share my rations with you, Lady Lea,” he said, leading her over to the bank of the stream. “Humble food, of course. But it will revive you marvelously. Just see if it doesn't.”

She pulled away from his arm and looked up at him, ready to tell him that she didn't want food or rest. She wanted to ride on as quickly as possible from this dreadful place.

But the others were dismounting, and grooms were running up to take charge of the horses. Ysandre was already being led away to water. The skies darkened, draping low clouds over the hills, and at that moment it began to snow.

“S
now
!” Captain Hervan announced. “Shelter for Lady Lea, at once!”

But Lea pulled away from him and lifted her face to the snowflakes spiraling down. The cold kiss of them on her skin cleared away the clamminess she'd been feeling, and she held her necklace in both hands, drawing in its power while she drew in deep breaths of cold air.

“More,” she whispered. “More!”

Snow fell heavily now, making a soft, hissing sound as it came down to collect in the folds of her cloak and blanket the ground.

Restored, she smiled, pushing back her hood to let the snow adorn her hair. Holding wide her arms, she twirled around like a child, laughing.

“Isn't it lovely?” she called.

No one answered her.

She stopped twirling and saw everyone staring at her. That's when she realized the heavy snowfall was centered on her alone. Only at her feet was the ground white. Elsewhere, a few sporadic flakes were floating down, nothing more.

The astonishment on people's faces made her laugh. She stepped away from the spot, stamping snow off her boots, and shook out the folds of her cloak.

“Do you dislike snow?” she asked them. “It's just…I've missed it so much, you see.”

The heavy snowfall in that one spot stopped immediately, as though it had never happened. In her heart, Lea sent swift thanks to the air spirits. They were whimsical and capricious, benign one moment and aloof the next, yet never as hostile and vicious as their cousins the wind spirits. She felt them blow against her, ruffling her curls back from her brow, sensed faintly that they wished she'd lingered inside the circle of snow long enough for them to communicate with her, but it was too late. They were gone.

Thirbe joined her. “All right, m'lady?”

She gave him a radiant smile. “Oh yes.”

The others began to relax and move about. Many continued staring at her, but others just shook their heads. A sergeant rapped out orders, and horses were led to the stream.

Lady Vineena, the second of her attendants, ventured up to her with a small curtsy and reached out cautiously to brush snow from Lea's hair.

“It's real,” she said in wonder.

“Of course,” Lea said. “Why shouldn't it be?”

“But you—did you make it snow harder, just on you?” Vineena asked. Her eyes grew rounder. “Can you control the weather?”

“Not exactly.”

“But—”

Lea turned away from her, only to find Hervan blocking her path. His eyes looked dazzled.

“Lady Lea,” he said ardently. “Whatever that was…your skin, your eyes…they're glowing. You're actually radiant. Beautiful. I—I have to tell you how much I—”

“Please,” Lea said, and walked away from him swiftly.

He did not follow, much to her relief, and she picked her way over the muddy ground to the stream.

There, she saw the water was starting to turn slushy at the edges. As she ventured out onto a large, flat rock jutting over the stream, a servant came running up with her drinking cup of Choven silver.

“Shall I fetch you a drink, m'lady?”

Lea took the cup with a gentle smile of thanks. “I'll do it.”

Carefully she crouched, tucking her long skirts and pale blue cloak neatly around her legs, and dipped her cup into the water. It tasted pure and sweet, and was cold enough to numb her tongue. Glad to find that none of the poor
quai
hanging about this place had tainted the stream, she sipped with pleasure before refilling her cup.

“Take care you don't fall in,” Thirbe said from behind her.

She ignored his warning, ignored also the chatter and movement of people and horses until the marching cadence of booted feet reached her ears. Thirbe spun around, reaching for his sword, but it was only the small group of Cubrian archers who'd been left behind to guard the wagons and had now caught up.

“Looks like maybe the wagons and your litter, m'lady, are past the mud,” Thirbe said.

Indifferently Lea turned away. It meant that instead of continuing they would now linger for the wagons to catch up, and she didn't like that idea. They were spending too much time in this strange valley. She didn't know why, exactly, but the instinct inside her to move on was strong.

Just as she was about to rise, a ripple across the flow of water caught her attention. Drawing off her glove, Lea trailed her fingers in the clear water. A face not her reflection glimmered up at her, then vanished. The cool touch of a water spirit glided over her palm.

“Peace to you,”
Lea thought to it.

“Beware. Beware,”
the spirit murmured in her mind.

When Lea lifted her hand, she was holding an opal, the symbol of mourning.

Pale and smooth, the stone was shot through with colors of white, gray, pale green, and pink. She admired it, turning it this way and that, wishing the sun would break through the heavy clouds to bring its pretty iridescence to life. Still, it was a sad stone, with a sad meaning, born of the sorrow here.

The warning disturbed her, renewing her uneasiness. She rose to her feet, clutching the opal, and looked around a little wildly.

“Have you found something, Lady Lea?” Fyngie asked, suddenly beside her and looking avidly at Lea's hand. “Another jewel? May I see it? How pretty!”

Distracted, Lea handed it to her, letting Fyngie hold it up and exclaim over it. She made so much noise that she attracted attention.

Lea glanced around and caught a look of intense jealousy on Lady Rinthella's beautiful face before her chief attendant smoothed her expression. Thirbe's warning came back, and Lea found herself annoyed.

There
was
something here, she thought. Something aware that was feeding on people's darker emotions and intensifying them on purpose. She focused a moment, but could not identify it as either a spirit or a living entity. Whatever it was, she did not want more contact with it, she told herself, and shivered.

“Are you growing cold, Lady Lea?” Fyngie asked, dutifully giving back the opal. “Shall I order a fire kindled to warm you? Perhaps we shall stop for the day and make camp. I'm tired and half-frozen. Aren't you?”

Thirbe stepped forward. “This is a right sorry place to camp,” he said gruffly. “We've no business to be lingering here.”

Fyngie's pale blue eyes widened, and she sent her most winsome smile to Lea. “Oh, please? May we not stop here? It's so pretty. And look at those men trying to walk over the old footbridge. I wonder if they're trying to fall in.”

Lea looked at the two laughing young fools in their bright cloaks, teetering on a rickety structure still spanning the stream. Chunks of rotted wood fell into the water, and one man wavered, flailing his arms for balance while the other one hooted with derision. Her gaze, however, shifted past them to the ruins, looking for movement, any evidence of life.

Again, that sense of clammy coldness reached out to her, sinking into her very bones. She gripped her necklace and stepped back. “We should go,” she said firmly. “Now.”

“I'll convey m'lady's order,” Thirbe said at once.

“Oh no,” Fyngie protested softly, but Lea ignored her.

Swiftly she returned to the water's edge and crouched there, intending to slip the opal back into the water, but the water spirit did not respond to Lea's call, did not return. She placed the opal on top of the rock where she'd been standing. She had accepted the gift, but respectfully she would not keep it. The
jaiethal
in it was too sad, too strong and dreadful, like a killing breath. It would be foolish to take such sorrow with her, as foolish as befriending a little sand scorpion and keeping it in her pocket.

When she turned to go, she saw no one mounted. A red-faced Thirbe stood near the road, arguing with Sergeant Lor.

“What now?” she asked impatiently. “What delays us?”

“Here, Lady Lea,” Vineena said, skipping up to her with the opal. “You dropped this.”

“No, she didn't,” Fyngie said. “She wants to leave it behind.”

“Then may I have it?” Vineena asked, smiling.

“You already have one,” Fyngie said.

“Not an opal. It suits me so well. Please, my lady?”

“No,” Lea said more sharply than customary. “Leave that where I placed it.”

Vineena's eyes widened. “But, my lady, it's valuable. You don't usually leave behind the jewels you—”

“This time is different,” Lea said. “Now put it back by the water where you found it.”

A pale raven flew over their heads, startling them all. It seemed to come from nowhere, and it flew so close to Lea that she ducked a little. Then it vanished as though swallowed into thin air. She turned around, staring at the trees overhanging the road, but did not see the bird again.

“Must we leave now?” Vineena asked as though nothing had happened. “It's so romantic here. I wish we could explore the ruins. Perhaps some of the men will escort us over there, although I do not think I dare trust that bridge.” She sent Fyngie a sly look. “Fyngie might, though, if a certain young adjutant gives her escort.”

Fyngie blushed to the roots of her hair, while Rinthella came up to them and quelled both of the young girls with a scornful look. She held out her hand imperiously to Vineena.

“Shame on you for disobeying Lady Lea,” she said. “Hand it over at once.”

Scowling, Vineena put the opal in her hand. “I'm sorry, my lady,” she said to Lea. “I was not disobedient. I was about to do your bidding.”

Lea looked at her in disappointment, not at all fooled by the lie. “Oh, Vineena,” she said.

“I shall deal with it,” Rinthella announced. Turning with a swirl of her skirts, she headed back toward the stream.

Vineena watched her go. “Maybe,” she muttered. “And maybe she wants it for herself.”

“Why does no one heed my wish to leave?” Lea asked Thirbe. “Why does the groom not bring my horse?”

Her protector was still red in the face, his mouth a thin line of anger. “What do you think? Who countermands your every order?”

She frowned. “Oh, not again.”

“Aye, again. And here comes our moon-eyed popinflare now.”

“Ah, Lady Lea!” called out Hervan's distinctive light baritone. “Admiring the ruins, I see. Would you care to stroll to them? I'll see you safely across the stream.”

He stopped before her, holding his white gauntlets in one hand and standing in a way that best displayed the athletic line of his body. He sent her a charming smile that she did not return.

“I think the ruins are shadow haunted,” she said. “Let us continue on without further delay.”

“Haunted?” He laughed. “All shadows are gone, Lady Lea.”

“Do not patronize me, Captain. Demons may no longer crawl freely about our world, but that does not mean evil is gone. It is time to leave.”

“At least wait until the wagons catch up to us,” he said persuasively. “No doubt you would be far more comfortable in your litter, especially since the weather is worsening, and—”

“No, thank you. The weather does not trouble me. I shall continue on my horse.”

“But, Lady Lea—”

“Groom,” Lea said imperiously, beckoning.

Wim led up her gelding in a way that jostled Hervan aside.

“Take care, fellow!” the captain said in annoyance.

Lea swallowed a smile. “Wim, please be more careful.”

“Aye, m'lady.”

Hervan slapped pale horse hairs from his shoulder. “Well, if you insist, Lady Lea, then I shall escort you to the head of the column. No eating mud for you.”

“Thank you.”

“She'll be safer in the middle,” Thirbe said.

“Oh, but I think we have nothing to fear from bandits on this road,” Hervan said airily. He smiled at Lea. “Besides, I know a little of the history of this valley.”

“Then can you tell me what happened to the town?” Lea asked.

“Er, no, but when we reach its imperial arch, we'll look for the dates and—”

“Already told her that much,” Thirbe broke in.

Annoyance wiped away Hervan's smile. Taller, younger, as glossy and sleek as Thirbe was dour and stocky, the captain looked down his patrician nose with all the arrogance of his class and lineage. “You are the lady's protector, sirrah, nothing more. Keep your place.”

“Am,” Thirbe said shortly, meeting him glare for glare. “Better she rides in the middle of the column. You can spin old folk tales once we're through for the day.”

Hervan drew in a sharp breath, but before Lea could intervene, Rinthella came up beside her and curtsied. “Is there any service I may perform for you, my lady?” she asked. Her handsome eyes were sparkling, and she looked vivid and lovely in the falling snow. As she spoke to Lea, however, she kept glancing at the captain. “May I fetch you another pair of gloves, Lady Lea? Do you want the musicians to play while you and the captain are conversing?”