Firewalk (22 page)

Randon’s words warmed Kayli’s heart. At least not every citizen of Agrond hungered for her blood. But one, nevertheless, hated Kayli with a fearful passion. She’d never thought she need fear for her life in the castle itself.

“You’re so quiet,” Randon said gently. “I thought my news might cheer you.”

“It was good news,” Kayli said quickly. Then she sighed. “I tried to send Seba home. But she wants only to serve me.”

“Chains are easily struck from the hands of a slave,” Randon said, nodding. “It’s harder to strike them from the heart. In part, that’s what I feared in releasing all these slaves—that they don’t know how to live free.”

Kayli was silent for a moment, remembering the day when a small group of beggars had knocked on the door of the temple.

“Give a beggar coins, and you fill his belly once,” Brisi had said. “Give him work, and you feed his spirit with self-respect. But teach him a trade, and you feed both body and spirit for life.”

“We were wrong,” Kayli said at last. “And I most of all. I was so blinded by the wish for—for revenge, I confess, against the wrongdoers that I forgot the needs of the victims.”

Randon sighed, too.

“Well, I admit I thought more about politics and economics,” he said. “I didn’t want to recognize that I have a duty toward every resident of Agrond, no matter how they came to be here. But I don’t know what to do about it.”

“You say you have not yet sent out the proclamation,” Kayli said after a moment’s thought. “Perhaps, instead of giving the freed slaves money, they might instead be apprenticed at some trade. Thus the slaves, Agrond’s economy, and justice are all served.”

Randon raised his eyebrows, then grinned.

“Apprenticeships! I should’ve thought of that myself. By the Bright Ones, I’ll do it, and the guilds will love me all the more for it.” He patted Kayli’s hand. “Only just awakened from near death, and still the wise High Lady. Terralt was right—I
have
been luckier than I deserve.”

Randon answered a quiet knock at the chamber door and returned with a tray. He watched sternly while Kayli finished her soup and tea, grinning at her reluctance.

“Back to a liquid supper again,” Randon chuckled. “Well, Stevann says you’ll be on your feet again in a few days, although the effects of
arrabia
tend to linger, and then I’ll have a grand feast to celebrate your recovery.”

“Well, just as well I had not yet conceived,” Kayli said with a sigh. “For such poisoning would have cost a child in my womb its life, or at least done it great harm.”

Randon sighed, too.

“That’s true,” he said. “I suppose it’s just as well, even though—” He stopped abruptly.

“Even though?” Kayli prompted. “Randon, what?” she pressed when he did not answer immediately.

“Stevann said—” Randon hesitated. “Stevann said that a poison that lingers in the body like
arrabia
usually renders women barren for some time. But try not to worry. There are potions, spells that Stevann can try, but later, when you’re stronger, much stronger.”

Kayli said nothing, but she could see that
he
was worried. Surely the council was worried, too. No wonder Terralt had been so cheerful.

“Look, all that’s important now is that you regain your strength,” Randon said stoutly. “The Bright Ones know there’s nothing to do in such weather
but
stay home and relax.” As if in agreement, a great peal of thunder shook the castle.

“It was storming yesterday when I first woke,” Kayli remembered.

“It’s been storming,” Randon corrected, “since you were poisoned. Early summer storms aren’t rare, but I admit the timing was amazing. There’s a rumor circulating through Tarkesh that the Bright Ones were angered by the attempt on your life.”

He smiled as he spoke, but his words troubled Kayli. In Bregond such a storm was a powerful omen and, despite the life-giving rain, not a good one. A thunderstorm was an unlikely alliance of Wind, Flame, and Water against Earth, and for it to linger so in one place must hold great meaning. Had Kayli become so much a part of Agrond’s destiny that harm to her brought such dire punishment upon Tarkesh?

“Has the storm done much damage?” she whispered.

Randon shrugged uncomfortably.

“The river’s risen,” he said. “If the rain keeps up, it could drown acres of crops. Luckily only this part of the country is affected, or so Stevann says. If the rain doesn’t stop soon, he’ll work with weather mages, turn the storm north into Sarkond. Now stop fretting, and we’ll get some sleep. That, at least, we can do in foul weather as well as fair.”

Well, but she had done nothing but rest for days, and even when Randon snored beside her, Kayli found that sleep eluded her. At last she slid unsteadily from the bed and sat on the hearth. The fire had been banked for the night, but she used the small bellows to fan the coals alight. The dancing flames comforted her, and the radiance of the fire drove some of the weakness and ache from her body. Kayli reached out impulsively, thrusting her hand into the brightest part of the flames.

A shock ran up her arm, neither pain nor pleasure; more the snapping jolt she felt in dry winter air when she touched metal. Energy flowed up Kayli’s arm and into her body in sharp, almost painful waves, and she nearly pulled back instinctively. Of course—she was an Initiate now, her body attuned to fire energies. Just as she fed those energies from within herself, so they fed her, too, from outside. Kayli sat still until the last of her weakness passed, and with it the constant gnawing ache in her vitals. She banked the fire, took her speaking crystal from its pouch, and crept out of the room and into Randon’s small armory as silently as she could.

Perhaps because of her illness, it was some time before Brisi’s face appeared in the crystal, and the High Priestess raised her brows in gentle surprise when she saw Kayli.

“Well met, young one!” she said. “I am glad to see you well, and of course I am always pleased to talk with you, but what has happened to make you call at such an hour? I had sought my bed an hour past”

“I beg your pardon, High Priestess,” Kayli said humbly. “But a great trouble has come upon me, and I desperately need your wise counsel.”

Brisi listened silently, only the expression in her eyes betraying her horror when Kayli spoke of her poisoning. When Kayli finished, she shook her head slowly, her lips tight, and Kayli was surprised to see the High Priestess betray even that much emotion. Her story must have indeed shaken her mentor to the very depths of her spirit.

“What a terrible thing, child,” the High Priestess murmured. “And how fortunate that someone nearby knew the remedy for
arrabia
poisoning. But how can I help you? Poisons and their remedies, that is more a matter for a healer than a priestess of the Flame.”

“Randon’s healer has done his best for me,” Kayli told her teacher. “No, what I would know is this: I have seen how the Flame can strengthen and heal. I know that fire is cleansing as well. Is there a ritual by which the Flame can cleanse this poison from my body, perhaps a ritual to ready my body for the’ conception of the child I must bear?”

Brisi was silent for a long moment. When she spoke, her words were slow and measured.

“Young one, you are a clever student,” she said. “And in honesty I must tell you that there is such a ritual in the grimoire I sent with you. But as your teacher, I ask that you trust now in what I say. The Rite of Renewal is beyond the level of skill to which you could possibly have progressed since your Awakening. In time you will master the ritual, I do not doubt, but I pray that you remember the folly of reaching beyond your ability.”

“Then can you offer me another solution, High Priestess?” Kayli asked, fighting down despair.

“Kayli.” Brisi sighed heavily. “My student, if you have one fault, it is that your nature is too close to that of the Flame itself—burning fierce and hot and heedless. Curbing that impatience has been your greatest battle. You must remember that lesson. Even those in Agrond who oppose your marriage cannot cast you aside for the results of a poisoning by their own people. They will give you time to mend.”

Brisi changed the subject firmly, telling Kayli of the small events at the Order, but Kayli had no interest in news that once would have brought her joy. She was relieved when the High Priestess said her good-byes and the crystal darkened.

Kayli returned to bed and slept rather uneasily, waking immediately when Randon slid out of bed.

“Are you in audience again?” she asked with a sigh as Randon donned his dressing gown.

Randon shook his head.

“Meeting with my advisers,” he said ruefully. “Then a private session with a few of the guard captains over the new proclamation.
Then
lunch with Terralt while he explains the new tax laws Father enacted last year. But I’ve cleared the whole afternoon. Unless Brother Santee needs me again, or there’s another representative here to ask about the new proclamation or—”

He sighed and shrugged helplessly.

“Yes. Of course.” Kayli stifled a sigh of her own. Randon could hardly let his country wait while he sat at her bedside. Besides, if she had read his disheveled appearance and weariness correctly, he’d already spent several days and nights doing just that. And, she realized, it might be good that she had time alone, to consult her grimoires.

Endra appeared shortly after Randon’s departure with more soup and tea for Kayli’s breakfast. Stevann politely waited until Kayli had had time to bathe and put on a clean gown before he came to examine her. After he had felt her pulse and smelled her breath, he frowned and shook his head.

“You’ve improved remarkably in such a short time,” he admitted. “You may try a little bread in your soup at dinner, and you may walk about the chamber a bit, but you mustn’t weary yourself. Rest is what you’ll seed most for some time.”

“The fertility potion,” Kayli said hesitantly. “How soon may I begin to take it again?”

Stevann gazed at her sternly.

“If your cycles resume when they should, a month after that If not, a month after they
do.
But you musn’t—”

“—trouble myself,” Kayli finished with a sigh.

As soon as Stevann was gone, however, she pulled out Brisi’s grimoire and began leafing through the spells. She was dismayed to find the Rite of Renewal far into the grimoire, among the most difficult rituals. The procedures seemed simple and straightforward enough; most of her novice rituals had been far more complicated. But the very simplicity of the ritual itself, she suspected, was deceptive. Only a priest or priestess of great skill would not require the progressive deepening of focus accorded by an elaborate ritual.

Any mage’s greatest tool was the force of her will—to focus her concentration during the preparatory stages of the ritual, but even more importantly, to keep from being overwhelmed by the raw power of the Flame. The only difference between the High Priestess and the rankest Initiate was the strength of her will—and her discipline, born of experience, in applying that strength of will.

Kayli spent the morning studying the ritual, and at dinnertime, savoring the promised bread, she sent for Seba. The young girl crept in as timidly as she had before, head down as if she expected a beating. When Kayli motioned her to sit at the table, Seba perched on the edge of the chair as if her touch would somehow soil it.

“Seba, you spent some time at one of the Temples of Healing,” Kayli said, noting the child’s immediate slight relaxation as no rebuke seemed forthcoming. “Did you witness many of the rituals performed there?”

“Many,” Seba murmured. “The temple was near the border, an area frequented by Sarkondish raiders. Many came to our temple for healing or shelter. I was permitted to serve the temple in small ways—arranging the ritual instruments, preparing the inner temple for ceremonies, other such duties. I hoped to be allowed to stay, to cook or clean, perhaps.”

Kayli sighed and patted Seba’s hand comfortingly. The poor child must have had not so much as a glimmer of the healing gift. Novices at the Healing Temples were fortunate that there was need for even those with very little of the gift, as midwives, herbalists, and so on. Elemental magic was not nearly so forgiving; either a novice had enough of the gift to train as a mage, or she did not.

But why had the temple not kept Seba on to study as an herbalist or an assistant to one of the traveling healers? Perhaps the priests and priestesses thought Seba had a vocation better realized among the horse clans.

“Seba, I wish to perform a very important ritual in the forge,” Kayli said slowly. “An assistant would be helpful. It would be simple work and there would be no danger to you, but I wish to keep the ritual secret until it is completed. Would you be willing to assist me?”

Seba ducked her head in a quick nod. That was all, but the glow in her eyes spoke eloquently.

Randon did not return as promised after dinner, and Kayli decided finally that she could not bear the inside of her chambers one moment longer. Resolutely she crept out into the hallway after making sure none of the servants were about. She would find Randon at whatever administrative work he was doing. He would chide her for disobeying Stevann’s orders, but he would let her stay, and perhaps she could read papers for him. Anything was better than another afternoon in bed.

After dodging around corners a dozen times to avoid detection, Kayli resolutely squared her shoulders and walked openly down the stairs. She occasioned a number of surprised stares, but no one came to herd her back to bed. And why should they? She was their mistress and their High Lady.

To her surprise, Randon was neither in the study where she expected to find him nor in the library. Kayli feared that he had had to sit in an afternoon audience after all, but a look out the front windows showed no carriages waiting outside, nor peasants waiting their turn. At last she made her way to the council chambers and, with more assurance than she felt, waved the guards away from the door. When they had retired, rather reluctantly Kayli thought, she opened the door just a crack. If Randon was alone, she could still join him.