Year of the Unicorn (5 page)

"Do I?" Kildas drew me out of my thoughts. "As all of us, I have no choice. But-should these Weremen share much with those of our own kind, then I do not fear." She tossed her head, strengthened by her confidence in herself and those weapons chance and nature had given her. "No, I do not fear that I shall be ill received by him who waits my coming!"

"What are they like? Have you ever seen a Rider?" I set myself to explore what she might know. Until this time I had been far more intent upon escape and what lay behind me, than what waited at this ride's end.

"Seen them?" she answered my last question first. "No. They have not come into the Dales, save on raids against Alizon. And they are said then to travel by night, not day. As to what they are like-they wore man forms when they treated with us, and they have strange powers-" Kildas' confidence ebbed and again her fingers pulled at the veil about her throat as if she found it hard to breathe and some cord pressed there against her flesh. "If more is known-that has not been told us." I heard a catch of breath, not far removed from sob to my left. Another had come level with us. Her travel worn robe-she was Solfinna who had shared Kildas' plate the night before-her poverty put further to shame by the other's display.

"Weep out your eyes if you wish, Solfinna." snapped Kildas. "A pool of tears as deep as the sea will not change the future."

Solfinna started, as if that voice, whip-sharp, was indeed a thong laid about her hunched shoulders. And I think that Kildas then took shame, for she said in a softer voice:

"Thank you-this was a free choice for you. Thus are you the greater than the rest of us. And since you believe in prayer, do you not also believe that right and good come to just rewards, even if there must be a time of waiting?"

"You choose to come?" I asked.

"It-it was a way to help." Solfinna paused and then spoke more firmly, "You are right, Kildas. To do a thing because it is right, and then to bewail the doing because one fears, throws away all that one must believe in. Yet I would give much to see my lady mother, and my sisters and Wasscot Keep once again. And never shall I."

"Would that not also be so in regular marriage?" Kildas asked with a gentleness she had not shown before. "If you had been betrothed to lord or Captain of the south Dales, there would have been no returning."

"So do I remember. To that thought I hold." Solfinna said quickly. "We are betrothed, in truth. We go to our weddings. It is as it had been for womenkind for untold years. And for my going so, those left behind gain much. Yet the Riders-"

"Look upon this though, also. Test it in your mind." I said. "These Riders so wanted wives that they set up a war bargain to gain them. And when a man so much wants a thing that he will gamble his life to its gaining, then I think once it is in his hands he will cherish and hold it in no little esteem."

Solfinna turned to look at me more closely. Her red-rimmed eyes blinked as if she would focus them upon me for keener sight. And I heard a little exclamation from Kildas, who urged her mount even closer.

"Who are you?" she demanded with a force which disputed any denial. "You are not that wailing maid they carried from the hall last night!"

Need I try to play the counterfeit with my fellows in the train? There was no great reason for that. Perhaps we were already past the point where Lord Imgry could make adequate protest.

"You are right. I am not Marimme-"

"Then who?" Kildas continued to press, while Solfinna watched me now with eyes rounded by astonishment.

"I am Gillan, one who dwelt at the Abbey for some years. I have no kin and this is my free choice."

"If you have no kin to compel you, nor to profit from your free choice." that was Solfinna her amazement now in her voice, "why do you come?"

"Because, perhaps there are worse things than riding into an unknown future."

"Worse things?" prompted Kildas.

"Facing a future too well known."

Solfinna drew back a little. "You have done that which-"

"Which makes this the lesser choice of ill fate?" I laughed. "No, I leave no crimes behind me. But neither do I have any chance of life outside the Abbey-stead, and I am not of a nature to take veil and coif and be content with such a round, one day so like unto another, so that during the years they become just one endless series of hours none differing from its fore or following companion."

Kildas nodded. "Yes, I think that could be so. But what will chance when he," she nodded towards Lord Imgry, "discovers the truth? He was set upon Marimme because of some project of his own. And he is not a man to be lightly baulked."

"That I know. But there is this drive he has shown, a fear of passing time. He will not be able to return to Norstead and he is honour bound to furnish the full toll of brides."

Again Kildas laughed. "You have a good way of thinking to a purpose, Gillan. I believe that both your weapons against him will serve."

"You-you do not fear the-the wild men? You chose for yourself alone?" Solfinna asked.

"I do not know about future fears. It is best not to see shadows on mountain crests while you still ride the valleys at their feet." I replied. Yet I thought that I could not claim unusual courage in this. Perhaps I had turned my back on a lesser trouble to embrace a greater. Still I would not admit that now, even to myself.

"A good philosophy." Kildas commented, but there was more a note or raillery than approval in that. "May it continue to guide and preserve you, sister-bride. Ah, it appears that we shall be granted a rest within after all-"

For at word from Lord Imgry the men of the escort came forward to help us dismount and lead us into the post. In the guardroom we crowded to the fire, holding out our hands, moving about to drive the stiffness from our legs and backs. As always I kept as far from our leader as I might. Perhaps he would believe that my avoidance of him was only natural, that Marimme's fear and hatred would keep her from the man solely responsible for her being here. If he believed so, he meant to leave well enough alone, for he did not approach me where I stood with Kildas and Solfinna, sipping now at the mugs of hot stew-soup dipped out of a common kettle.

We were not yet finished with this meal, if meal it might be named, when Lord Imgry spoke out, addressing us as a company:

"The snow has stopped in the heights. Though it is uncomfortable, yet we must press on to the Croffkeep before night. Time grows short and we must be at the Throat of the Hawk in another day's time."

There was some under-the-berth complaining at his words, but none of them spoke out loud. He was not a man to be fronted on a matter of comfort alone. Throat of the Hawk-the name meant nothing to me. Perhaps it was our ordained meeting place.

My luck still held. When we reached the Croffkeep, a mountain fort now only a quarter manned, we were given a long room to ourselves, with pallets laid on the floor, reducing us to the "comforts" of those who had fought from this rocky perch in years past

Fatigue pushed me into sleep, deep and dreamless. But I awoke from that suddenly, alert of mind, as if I had been summoned. Almost I could hear the echo of some well known voice-Dame Alousan's?-calling me to a necessary task. And so strong was that feeling that I blinked at the dim lamp at the far end of the room, found it hard for the moment to recognize the sounds of heavy breathing from the pallets around mine and realize where I lay and for what purpose.

My weariness was gone. Instead I was filled with a restlessness, the kind of anticipatory unease which haunts one before some momentous and life changing event. And also my old talent, which had been stirring in me since I first thought of this, was as awake as I.

There was that reaching out in me which I did not exactly fear, which some inner part below the level of my day-mind knew and welcomed, as one drinking a cordial for the first time might know the refreshment of a herb the body craved but which hitherto had been denied it. It was a brave excitement and it worked in me so that I found it impossible to lie still.

With what stealth I could summon, I put on my outer clothing. The divided skirt of my riding robe was still damp and the chill unpleasant but that did not matter to the thing forcing me into the night and the open, as if I must have freedom in which to breathe.

Kildas stirred in her sleep as I rounded the end of her pallet, next to mine, and murmured-a name perhaps. But she did not wake, and then I laid hand on the door latch. I could hear the tread of a sentry in the corridor. Yet my need for the open drove me on at the end of his beat. I had taken but a step or two.

When I edged open the door he was back towards me without when he began to turn. And in that moment I was possessed by that which I had known only dimly-a will which was as much of the body as it was of the mind. I looked upon that man who in a moment would see me, and I willed, fiercely and with all the force in me, that he would not do so-not for the seconds which would see me gone.

And he did not! Though, as I reached the side corridor, I leaned limply against the cold stone of the wall, spent with the effort of that willing. And the excitement in me was augmented by another emotion-that of wonder and triumph mixed. For a period out of real time I stood so, savouring what I believed I had done-but one cool portion of me doubted, acted as a brake. Then I went up the stairs facing me and out on to a terrace or lookout walk. The snow gave a certain lightness, but the bulk of the dark heights were only slightly silvered by the moon veiled by drifting clouds.

There was a wind, fresh, as if it blew from yet higher peaks-free lands where the dust of the Dales could never linger. Only, now that I had reached this place, that urge which had brought me here was fast dying, and I could find no reason for it. In spite of my cloak I shivered in the wind, drew back to the doorway for protection.

"What do you do here?"

There was no mistaking that voice. Why or how Lord Imgry shared my need for deep night wandering, I did not know. But our meeting I could not escape.

"I wished the fresh air-" My reply was stupid, meaningless. But to seek delays was useless.

As I turned I held my hand to my eyes for he swept me with the dazzling light of a hand lamp. He must first have read the device on Marimme's borrowed tabard, for his hand flashed out and gripped my shoulder with punishing force, dragging me closer to him.

"Fool! Little fool!" Passion stirred under that adamant tone, not one soft-turned to Marimme, but rather one concerned with his good or ill. And somehow that thought armoured me and I dropped my masking hand to meet him eye to eye.

"You are not Marimme." He kept grip on my shoulder, swung the lamp still closer to me. "Nor are you any other rightful of this company. Who are you?" And his fingers were five sword points in my flesh, so that I could have cried out under their torment but did not.

"I am of this company, my lord. I am Gillan, out of Norstead-"

"So! They would dare, those mouse-squeak women, to do this-"

"Not so." I did not strive to throw off his hold, since I knew that I could not, but I stood straight-shouldered under it. And I think my denial of his accusation broke the surface of his anger and made him listen. "This was of my own planning-"

"You? And what have you to do with decisions beyond your making? You shall rue this-"

Passion curbed, but perhaps all the more deadly for that curbing. But to meet his anger I summoned will. Somehow I knew that I could not impress upon this man my desire as I had upon the sentry-if I had-still will gave me a shield to arm-sling for my own protection.

"The time for rue is past-or has not yet come." I tried to choose my words with care, those best to hold attention and make him think. "Time is not one of your menie this night, my lord. Return me to Norstead and you have lost. Send me back with one of your men, and again you have lost-for at the Throat of the Hawk there must be twelve and one, or honour shall be broke."

His arm moved and he shook me to and fro, his strength so that in his grasp I was a straw thing. But my will held and I faced him. Then he flung me away so I slipped in the snow and went to my knees, jarring against the parapet of that walk. And I do not believe in that instant he would have cared had I been hurled over it and down.

I pulled to my feet and I was shaking, my bruised shoulder all pain, the fear of what might have been brushing me still. But I could face him head up and still clear of thought, knowing what I must say.

"You were to provide one of the brides, my lord. I am here, nor will I nay-say that I am here through your will, should witness be needed. And still you have Marimme who is of such beauty as to make a fine match. Have you truly lost aught by this?"