Firewalk (27 page)

Kayli expected to return to the great hall where she and Randon had held audience, but to her surprise, the two thrones had been moved to a platform (fortunately under a canopy, as the sun was already hot and her heavy gown nearly stifled her). Flanked heavily by guards, Kayli and Randon assumed their seats, and Kayli stifled a sigh of relief as she took her weight off her aching feet. Noble lords and ladies were already forming a line at the base of the platform.

Kayli expected that Terralt, as Randon’s brother, would be the first to offer his oath of fealty, but to her surprise, Ynea stood at his side. Kayli was horrified to see how fragile and gaunt her friend had grown in the few days since she’d seen her; Ynea seemed nothing but wisps of skin stretched tight over bone and the bigness of her swollen belly. A fierce, hectic color burned in her cheeks but did not warm the almost bluish pallor of her lips.

Terralt helped his wife walk slowly forward with a solicitousness that surprised Kayli, but she looked at the six steps Ynea must climb to the platform and thought with horror,
Why, she can never do it!

She was on her feet without thinking; when she turned, she found that Randon had reached the top of the steps before her.

She hurried after him to meet Terralt and Ynea at the bottom of the steps. Terralt glanced at them with obvious relief. Ynea’s own eyes were glazed, and Kayli wondered what potions Stevann had given her so she could come at all.

Kayli expected some mocking comment or innuendo from Terralt, but he gave his oath almost grimly, his lips pressed to a thin white line. Kayli could not bear to see Ynea stand there growing paler and paler through the customary well-wishing, and Randon firmly motioned the litter forward while Ynea was still swearing her fealty.

“Stop fretting and start watching the people,” Randon murmured in her ear when they resumed their thrones. “I’ll want your impressions later.”

Kayli realized the truth of Randon’s words and forced her attention back to the waiting nobles. Many of these powerful lords and ladies lived far from Tarkesh. This was the first—and perhaps the only—chance that she and Randon would have to assess their loyalty, and Kayli’s best chance to win their favor by taking an individual interest in them.

It might have been an impossible task. To Kayli’s surprise, however, she found her court training immeasurably useful here. Trained from childhood in the art of reading the “unspoken language,” she found it easy to see annoyance in the subtle downward turn at the corner of a mouth, unease in the slight lowering of a brow, insincerity in the tension of a shoulder.

Kayli found, too, that her memory training in the Order was an asset here. Those lords and ladies she had met previously, however briefly, she could greet personally. She had absorbed an amazing variety of information—names, titles, cities and villages, regional crops and crafts, events of importance—from the council meetings, audiences, and supper conversations. When the heralds announced Lord Ostuan and Lady Naeste, Kayli was able to congratulate them on the recent marriage of their son; when Lord Kerrar presented them with forty barrels of his finest wine, Kayli commiserated over the recent curly-leaf-rot problem in his vineyards. From time to time Randon gave her an approving grin; occasionally Terralt would glance sideways at her, lift an eyebrow, and nod slowly, his eyes twinkling although he did not smile.

Despite her concentration, the morning crept on at a snail’s pace. The sun edged higher and higher, and with it the heat; no breeze stirred the banners on their poles. Once more Kayli’s temple training helped her; even in her heavy dress, cinched so tightly around her waist that she could hardly breathe, the golden chains in her braids slowly pulling every hair from her scalp, immobile for hours on her throne, she maintained her calm. Whatever torments were inflicted upon Agrondish rulers, they were nothing compared with hours spent kneeling on a stone floor and meditating on a candle flame, or with the pain of searing her hands again and again and again as she fought to master her own recalcitrant flesh. Why, this was less disagreeable even than the long ride from Bregond, even without the addition of torrential rains and Sarkondish raiders. And of course the nobles waiting to pay their respects, standing all this time in the hot sun instead of sitting under the canopy, were more miserable than she.

By mid-afternoon it had grown even hotter, but the end of the line of nobles was in sight. Finally Randon and Kayli greeted the last lord and lady, signed the final pardon, and Randon sighed as the steward carried the scrolls away.

“By the Bright Ones, I thought they’d somehow managed to Gate in every man and woman in Agrond,” Randon muttered. “Come on, let’s look at what’s left of the festival, shall we?”

Just standing on her feet after hours of sitting was pure pleasure despite the torturous slippers. Kayli tried to ignore the guards that fell into step around herself and Randon (and, to her dismay, Terralt) as they walked away from the platform. This was her first chance to meet the citizens of Agrond face-to-face instead of looking down from a throne or a saddle, and she was determined to make the most of it.

The feast tables were thronged with nobles and peasants alike, but Randon shook his head sternly when Kayli would have turned her steps in that direction.

“Oh, Randon,” she protested. “Soon I will surely starve. How can there be any danger when I saw Stevann testing the food earlier?”

Terralt, who had positioned himself opposite Randon at Kayli’s side, chuckled. “He’s not afraid you’d be poisoned,” he said rather patronizingly. “By custom, you and he are providing this feast for the citizens of Agrond—paying for it, at least—not for yourselves. It’s to symbolize the selfless dedication of the High Lord and Lady to their people. Don’t fret about it; the merchants have booths along the wall, and they’ll be delighted to push their finest delicacies into your hands so they can boast that the High Lord and Lady stuffed themselves silly on their wares.”

An astounding variety of merchants had set up stalls and carts along the entire inner wall of the courtyard. True to Terralt’s predictions, Kayli and Randon nibbled their way around the grounds, tasting the fresh fruits, baked goods, skewered meats, and sweets that the merchants thrust into their hands.

“Don’t fill yourself up before the best part,” Terralt told her, taking her arm so firmly that Kayli could not pull away without making a scene.

“The best part?” she asked with some dismay. What more could there be?

“Just a surprise I arranged for you—for both of you,” Terralt added after a pause that was a brief second too long.

“What kind of surprise?” Randon asked, and Kayli could hear a slight edge creep into his voice.

“Around at the side,” Terralt said vaguely. “I didn’t want either of you to see it out the front windows.”

Kayli tightened her grip on Randon’s hand, but allowed Terralt to guide them around the east side of the castle. Even before she turned the corner, a strange aroma drifted to her nostrils, a cooking sort of odor that was slightly metallic, yet at the same time spicy and appetizing. Kayli had never smelled its like, but Randon recognized it immediately.

“Dragon!” he exclaimed, sniffing the air with delight. “Terralt, you scoundrel, how in the Bright Ones’ names did you manage to find a dragon in time for the wedding?”

“I didn’t, of course,” Terralt said dryly. “Less than a week after your lady arrived in Agrond, one of my friends told me one had just been killed in his territory. So I bought the whole thing, had it preservation-spelled and stored to wait for your confirmation. It’s good luck for a pregnant woman to eat dragon; supposedly it assures a strong child who will make a good warrior.” He grinned mockingly. “The Bright Ones know any spawn of Randon’s needs all the help it can get.”

There was no way to dig a firepit in the stone-paved courtyard, but a sort of raised brick hollow had been built there. A huge spit, supported on thick crossed beams, held the largest slab of meat Kayli had ever seen over the coals. Rich fat dripped off to sizzle on the embers, and several young boys slathered dark sauce from buckets over the roasting meat.

Dragon. Kayli had heard tales of the gigantic winged reptiles, seen pictures in scrolls and tapestries, but she could never have imagined a creature so huge that the awesome slab of meat roasting over the coals could be only a portion. Although dragons were rarely seen in Bregond, they were known in the Orders as a powerful union of Earth and Flame. It took many great hunters to kill a dragon, Kayli had heard, and many times it was the dragon, not the humans, who feasted. Had this dragon ever killed and eaten humans?

No such concerns apparently troubled Randon, for when one of the boys handed him a skewer of dripping meat, he bit into it without hesitation. Kayli looked at her own skewer with some doubt, but the spicy aroma was just too tempting, and she tore off a bite of the tough flesh with her teeth. The meat tasted even more hearty and spicy than it smelled, and Kayli had worried off several more bites before she realized that she no longer cared what the dragon had been eating.

“Thank you, Terralt,” Randon said, and Kayli was ashamed that she had made no thanks of her own. “It’s a wonderful gift, and one I’m certain we’ll all appreciate in the dining hall for some time to come. Have you sent some up to Ynea?”

“Your lady’s midwife laid claim to the liver and heart the moment she found out we had it,” Terralt said a little irritably. “Said they’d strengthen Ynea’s blood, however she supposes
that
would happen when Ynea can’t seem to keep the smallest morsel down long enough to do any good.”

“You look tired,” Randon said, putting his arm around Kayli’s waist and ignoring Terralt’s comments. “We’ve made our obligatory appearances, and it’s expected that I’ll make off with you sometime to consummate our marriage. It would make a likely excuse, if you’d like to retire now.”

“Only an excuse?” Terralt mocked. “Why, brother, have you changed so much in the last few weeks? The Randon I’ve always known would’ve ducked the guards and pulled the lady into the barn to flip her skirts up, no doubt Or have you grown fastidious since you wed?”

“Well, there’s your difference,” Randon said good-naturedly. “A quick tumble in an out-of-the-way spot’s all well and good, but my exotic Bregondish lady has taught me the value of a more prolonged encounter.” He guided Kayli away from Terralt “You should try it sometime, brother.”

Almost inaudibly behind them, Terralt laughed.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he said. “Perhaps I should.”

Suddenly fire flared in Kayli’s heart and she turned, releasing Randon’s arm to face Terralt squarely.

“Would you care to repeat that more loudly?” she said deliberately. “There are perhaps a few passersby who did not hear your insult. Perhaps you would like to address everyone at the festival. I am sure they would be much impressed by all the clever insults you have made from the day we first met. Come, play no more muttering games. Say what you will, and say it now so we all can hear you.”

The mocking grin faltered slightly. Then Terralt’s lips thinned and he bowed elaborately.

“I most humbly beg the pardon of my High Lord and High Lady for my impertinent and insulting manner,” he said loudly. “It was inexcusable, and I will see that they are troubled by it no longer.” He bowed again, even more extravagantly. “If I may be dismissed, of course.”

Randon stepped forward, one hand extended.

“Listen, Terralt, there’s no need to—”

There was no yielding in Terralt’s steel-hard eyes.

“If I may be dismissed,” he repeated coldly.

Randon dropped his hand and turned away.

“Very well,” he said, no emotion at all in his voice. “You’re dismissed.”

“Thank you, High Lord. High Lady.” Without another word, Terralt turned and strode back to the castle. As soon as Terralt was gone, however, Randon rounded on Kayli.

“By the Bright Ones, what did you do that for?” he demanded, taking Kayli’s arm and dragging her out of earshot of the gathering circle of onlookers.

Hurt astonishment momentarily stunned Kayli silent.
What did you do that for?
In Bregond no lady would have stood for such insults and innuendo as Terralt had made since they had met; no husband would tolerate it, either.

“Perhaps you are accustomed to his slurs upon your honor,” Kayli retorted angrily. “Perhaps they do not trouble you. But that does not obligate me to tolerate them as well, not when he has all but undressed me with his words!”

“So he’s offended you,” Randon snapped. “Is your dignity more important than the good of this country?”

“Apparently it is of less import than Terralt’s freedom to say whatever foul thing he likes,” Kayli replied. “And why, might I ask, should that be so?”

Randon averted his eyes for just a moment, and in that instant Kayli wondered whether she had seen the barest flash of guilt in his expression; when he faced her again, however, his anger was as unyielding as before.

“Since the moment my father proclaimed me Heir instead of Terralt, I’ve had to pander to Terralt’s pride, flatter him, argue with him, all but
beg
the man for his help,” Randon said flatly. “He knows the business of ruling this country, and
I need that knowledge.
I need the years he spent at Father’s side. The games I’ve played to get that cooperation! And now how am I to expect any assistance from him, now that you’ve humiliated him in public?”

His fingers dug into Kayli’s arm, and she halted.

“Release me,” she said quietly.

Randon glared at her. “What?”

“I said, release me.” Kayli met his eyes squarely. “You are my husband, not my master. I will not be dragged like a recalcitrant dog. Nor will I be admonished for defending myself against offenses I have borne far too long already. If you wish to let Terralt insult you at every opportunity, that is your affair, and if I choose otherwise, that is mine.”

“Damn all, Kayli,” Randon said angrily, “the man’s lost what he thought was his birthright, and his wife may be dying.” Again that flash of guilt. “You could afford to be a little more charitable.”