Hearts in Cups (19 page)

Colin had been conveyed
into the castle at sundown and taken immediately to the room assigned him.
There, the physician had examined him again, pronounced that he would live and
given him a sedative to help him sleep. Colin had avoided the sedative and,
instead, had managed to send word to Hollin, asking her to try to see him later
that evening. Then he lay back against the pillows of his bed and tried to
arrange his thoughts.

A soft knock on his
chamber door woke him from the light doze he had drifted into, and his
man-servant ushered in the duchess.  The room was dark, lit by too few
lamps and a small fire, and smelled faintly of mold. Hollin made her way to the
bed in which Colin lay propped up and sat down on a nearby chair.

"Well, this is an
unexpected nuisance," he said, gesturing to the arm that lay heavily
bandaged beside him.

"How are you
feeling? Other than the arm, I mean?"

Unexpectedly touched by
the genuine worry he saw in her face, he grimaced reassuringly. "The
consensus of opinion is that I will live to ride again. But I fear that I
cannot continue with the embassy to the prince." She communicated her
understanding with a nod. "I am sorry that this has happened. I feel as if
I have failed you before you even needed my help," he finished in
dispirited tones.

"Hardly that;
although I admit that I shall miss your companionship on the journey. I've just
come from a very dull dinner during which Brescom and Gerard have been
discussing when and where we shall go next."

Colin looked surprised.
"But I thought that it had already been decided that we would take the
Great Northern Road over Eagle Peak. Has something happened?"

"Apparently there
has recently been a landslide that took out a portion of that road and it will
be impassable for several weeks to come. Brescom was telling Gerard the
particulars and pulling out maps when I left." She paused for a minute,
thinking. "It makes little difference to me which way we leave the
Pentarchy. The work I've done with the ring indicates that we head due north
through the mountains towards the range called the Pillars of the Sky, if I'm
correct."

"You undoubtedly
are," he allowed. "Have you had any difficulties with the ring? One
of my main concerns in not continuing with you is that you will have to manage
the ring on your own."

She grinned at him.
"You and Dinea were good teachers. I'm confident of my ability to wield
the ring, or at least to interpret it."

Looking closely at her,
he asked with unusual diffidence, "Did you make use of the ring this
afternoon after the accident? I remember starting to come round and feeling the
pain in my arm, and then something like a grey cloud pushed me back into
unconsciousness. Was that you?"

"Yes," she
admitted. "But I only used the ring as a focus. It's a healing trick that
my mother taught me when I was a little girl. You drop into a light trance and
bring up the image of a sort of silvery light and then allow the light to wash
over you. Whenever I was ill, I always felt much better after doing that. When
I saw you lying there I decided to see if I could transfer that light to you. I
think that the ring acted as a bridge so that I could send the light to you.
Didn't you learn to do something similar when you were trained?"

He shook his head.
"I wonder if it is part of the House Gift, or a natural talent?"

He drifted into silence
thinking about it.

"Well, I'm just
glad it worked," she said, breaking into his ruminations.

Grinning he apologized.
"It's part of my training to be interested in the manifestation of any
type of arcane ability. The physician has informed me that I must rest here a
couple of days and Brescom has offered a litter and carriers to take me back
down the pass. If I cannot be of use to you, I'd best go back to Pentarin and
do what I can for Percamber."

"I dare say your
wife would prefer to nurse you herself."

"I'm sure that she
would, after scolding me roundly for falling off of my horse in the first
place." His eyes reflected her amusement. "One thing that I would ask
of you before you leave," he said, his voice growing serious. "Do you
remember the young musician, my retainer, who was involved in that business
with the Duke of Creon's daughter?"

She nodded. "Dinea
spoke to me about him in Pentarin. Wasn't he supposed to join you?"

"You very kindly
agreed to let him take a place beside me as part of the contingent from my
House. I was to meet him at our next stop near the town of Durstede. Will you
still allow him to accompany the embassy on its quest? He cannot return with me
to Pentarin, and there is too much danger in sending him back to Treves at this
time. He needs to be away from the Pentarchy."

"What if he
refuses to join the embassy now that you will not be with us?"

"If he refuses,
then there is nothing more that I can do for him, and he must take his own
chances. But I would ask that the option be open for him. Will you do this for
me, your grace?"

In her own mind, Hollin
was a little uneasy with the idea of personally sponsoring Colin's protégé.
Outside of that one evening, when he had entertained them in House Treves’
quarters, she had not spoken with him, and though her initial impression had
been favourable, subsequent events cast a decided shadow over the man’s
reputation.  Knowing that to agree was to accept Colin's and Dinea's
estimation of him, she made her decision. "If you wish it, then I will offer
him the choice," she assured him. "How and where was he supposed to
meet up with you?"

"We planned to
meet at Durstede. He should be there now and will probably approach the captain
of my House Guards when you make camp in the vicinity. I will give instructions
that he be sent directly to you. Will that be satisfactory?"

"Quite. And now, I
have taken up far too much time that you should be devoting to rest." She
stood and extended her hand to him. "Good night, my lord."

He kissed her hand and gave
it a friendly squeeze. "Good night, Lady Hollin, and thank you."

One more day and a
night were spent as guests of the Earl of the Inner Ward. The gloomy quality of
the castle and the dullness of the company made the stay seem twice as long to
a restless Hollin. She visited Colin several more times to make certain that he
was indeed healing, as well as to talk to someone interesting. Lord Brescom's
daughter grew even more tedious, if that was possible, and being forced to
spend any time at all with her was a chore for Hollin. Brescom himself, while
scrupulously polite, tended to eschew the duchess’ company altogether,
preferring the fellowship of the embassy's commander, Lord Gerard.

The duchess was almost
too eager in her farewells on the morning that they rode away from Greystone
Fortress. As they moved forward and the castle receded behind them, she felt a
sense of oppression lift from her spirits. The sooner Colin bid his farewells
to that pile of stones, the better for him, was her thought. Farion was feeling
frisky again after a day of rest and kicked out his heels in mock surprise
every few miles as they traveled down into the heart of the Inner Ward.

The Earldom of the
Inner Ward was comprised mostly of a very large valley stretching east and west
between two mountain ranges. To the south was the long chain of the Ward's
Girdle. Northwards rose the Tarrant Mountains, a vast land of snowy peaks and
alpine valleys that stretched for several hundred miles. This was the
northern-most boundary of the Pentarchy. There was one main road making its
tortuous way through the northern mountains: a valuable trade-route to the
inhabited lands in the far north. The road was maintained by a multitude of
tiny villages that lay along its extended route like beads on a string. Owing
allegiance to no one, these villages eked out their existence on the little
cultivable land around them and the merchant's caravans that regularly plied
their wares from the northlands to the Pentarchy and back.

The ride across the
Inner Ward was remarkably pleasant and uneventful. Most of the valley was
devoted to raising cattle and sheep and farming its many orchards. Now, in the
late spring, the blossoms were off the trees and the new leaves, bright green
vibrantly touched with yellow, filled the branches and danced in the breeze.
Young livestock, sleeping or frolicking with one another, dotted the pastures
between the orchards. There were no cities as such, but a plenitude of towns
and villages were scattered comfortably throughout the valley. The largest town
was Durstede, located in the heart of the Inner Ward and through which the main
road in and out of the Pentarchy ran. Here Gerard called for camp to be made on
the second night after departing from the earl's company.

Hollin had ordered her
tent raised and prepared for the evening while she dismounted to walk and
stretch her stiff legs. In the distance she could descry the closest peaks of
the Tarrants already growing a misty blue-violet in the late afternoon light.
Celia was bustling around in the background, ordering the men in the
disposition of her mistress' things. Hollin noted with amusement how adept
Celia had become at setting up their camp, ordering soldiers and servants alike
with a quick tongue that permitted no dissent.

"We'll be turning
westwards now, your grace," Gerard remarked as he came up beside her and
raised his eyes to the distant mountains.

"It seems a great
shame to have to take such a long detour," she replied.

"I agree, but
since the main road is closed to us, we must find another way. Lord Brescom has
assured me that Slakestone Pass is quite safe and much shorter in the long run
than any of the other eastern passes. Once through, we can cut over to the main
road again. You just leave all of this to me, your grace." His
condescending air irritated Hollin but, in all honesty, she admitted to herself
that she had less knowledge than he about moving this large a party through the
mountains. When her tent was ready Hollin retired to it and stripped off the heavy,
travel-begrimed riding dress. The temperature had become balmy since descending
from the Ward's Girdle, and she was sticky with sweat underneath the clothing.
Celia had water ready for washing as she deftly picked up her mistress'
discarded clothes and took them to be cleaned by one of the servant women. Upon
her return, she informed her newly washed and attired mistress that one of
House Treves' men was outside, asking to speak with her. The duchess' tent had
a curtain that could be drawn across the main space, essentially creating two
rooms, and Hollin now ordered Celia to screen off their sleeping area so that
she could receive her visitor in the relative privacy of the remaining tent
space.

Two men followed Celia
back into the tent and bowed before the seated duchess. After introducing the
elder of the two men, Celia drew off to an unobtrusive position behind the
duchess, seating herself somewhat primly, and began working industriously on
some mending. Hollin waited expectantly as a middle-aged man wearing the golden
harp and red chevron of House Treves on his tabard stepped forward and bowed.
"I regret having to disturb your grace, but Lord de Chantalcalm instructed
me to bring this man to you as soon as he contacted me."

"Thank you,"
Hollin replied courteously. "I will speak to him alone. You may wait
outside for now."

The captain nodded and
ordered the man at his back to remove his weapons in the duchess' presence. A
plain but good-quality leather scabbard and sword were unbuckled from his belt and
handed it to the officer, who carried them from the tent.

Beckoning the young man
forward, Hollin was hard put to recognize the dapper musician of prior
acquaintance. He looked both drab and subdued, dressed in the dull grey and
brown homespun of a commoner. In spite of the outer signs of his descent in
rank and privilege, his fine hazel eyes regarded her steadily without any sense
of forwardness, and she found that the liking she had first experienced on
meeting him had not diminished. Over his shoulder was a bag whose outlines
suggested that his small harp was still accompanying him.

Suppressing a smile,
the duchess said simply, "Welcome Daffyd ap Blewyns."

"Your grace,"
he replied with a self-conscious bow. "I hardly know what to say..."

"Then perhaps I
should speak first. As you know, Lord and Lady de Chantalcalm approached me
after your... incident, and asked to be allowed to include you as one of the
company on this mission. You were to meet Lord Colin and the escort here at
Durstede but, unfortunately, as the captain may have already told you, Lord
Colin suffered an accident and has been forced to return to Pentarin."

"I was told only
that Lord Colin was no longer with the embassy. Is he all right?" There
was a sense of real concern as he ventured the question.

"His arm was
broken but he is in no danger," she replied. "Before I parted from
him, Lord Colin asked me to offer you the opportunity to still participate in
this expedition as a member of the contingent from House Treves."

He hesitated, trying to
assemble his words. The last few weeks had bruised him greatly. The kindness
extended to him by Lady Dinea was not balm enough for the lack of self-worth
that beset him. It was she who had suggested this course of action, and he had
accepted it partly because it sent him away from Pentarin for a purpose other
than exile, and partly to please the lady. He had done much pondering as he had
traveled north, about what he had and had not done and what he must do for his
future. Thoughts of Angharad had been ruthlessly driven from his mind. Deep
within, he felt that if only he could go far enough away, she would eventually
fade to an acceptable ache in his conscience. When he had arrived in camp an
hour ago to discover that his lord was not there, a sense of dread had
overtaken him and he feared that the final dissolution of his former life was
at hand. Here now, he was being handed back that sense of purpose which he
sought.