Irons in the Fire (57 page)

She could feel him inside her mind. She didn't want him there. But she didn't dare fight back. No more than she'd ever dared resist Garnot. She'd chosen her bed and she had to lie in it. Her mother had said so as she lay on her deathbed and turned her face to the wall.

Lie back and let his hands go behind, between, within. Never flinch as he used his mouth and his manhood, gentle or brutal, as he saw fit. That was the price she paid for the gifts and the gowns that she turned swiftly and discreetly into gold. She wouldn't be left destitute when his ardour cooled. When she was ordered to quit his service, Uncle Ernout would give her the money hidden in the shrine and she would start a new life far away.

"I'm sorry. I can't." Kerith's voice was drawing away, strangled with emotion.

"You must." Nath was suddenly loud with anger.

She couldn't feel her hands or her feet, her arms or her legs. She couldn't feel the pain in her head that had felled her, nor the ache in her ribs where she'd fallen against the statue's plinth.

When was it that taking Duke Garnot's coin for the use of her body had no longer satisfied her? What had Uncle Ernout seen in her eyes that prompted him to ask her to pass on whatever she overheard of the duke's private councils that first time? When had she begun deliberately seeking out information, listening at doors, copying letters?

How had Duke Garnot never noticed she had borne him a child? Had her desperate prayers to Drianon been answered? It had seemed that way when Duchess Tadira had ordered her from the castle, just when she feared her new plumpness would be seen for what it truly was.

She should have taken the herbs after missing her first courses. She'd counted the days till the moons turned in her favour again but Aunt Derou had been ill just when she needed her. Then it was too late to do the deed discreetly until the next time. She knew Duchess Tadira's women kept one eye on the Almanac and the other on her intimate laundry. Tadira might not want her husband's mistresses presenting him with bastards but she'd see Failla whipped and thrown out of the castle gates in her bloodied shift for presuming to deny him his offspring.

Then she had been sent away, far from any woman she could trust to help her. Had Drianon, goddess of all mothers, been protecting her and the unborn babe, seeing to it that Duke Garnot didn't visit her? He'd written and explained he was intent on educating his son while Carluse was safe from Sharlac's malice, as long as Duke Moncan stayed shut away with his grief. She'd wondered if he'd found a younger, slimmer mistress. She'd prayed so fervently that he had once she felt the baby quicken within her.

Drianon hadn't answered her prayers. He had sent word at the turn of For-Spring, telling her she was to play the queen at his Spring Equinox celebrations. So she had sent for Lathi, still nursing her last-born. Aunt Derou had come, tight-lipped with disapproval as she mixed the draught of bitter herbs. They had held her hands and wiped her brow as the birth-pangs racked her, forcing her daughter into the world half a season too soon. Whatever she thought of Failla, Lathi had tended the tiny girl with all the care and love she'd show a child born of her own flesh.

Then Lathi had gone, taking the baby, and Derou had bound her breasts and her belly with unforgiving flannel. She had ground herbs and goose grease into salves that stripped the colour from those few marks the curtailed pregnancy had left on Failla. She had choked down the pungent tisanes that dried her milk and shrank her womb. Then she had gone back to Garnot's bed, taking twice and thrice the care that she had before, to keep herself from conceiving. What else could she do?

All her pains returned: the ache in her side, the bruises on her shoulder where Nath had seized her, the throbbing in her head. Along with the sickening heat of her swollen breasts and the vicious cramps as Derou's draughts forced the last of the birth blood from her.

"No, I can't. I'm sorry."

Failla opened her eyes to see Kerith, his face twisted with self-loathing. He knelt beside her, one hand resting on her hair, the other holding her icy hand. Nath stood at her feet, holding the lantern, his face unforgiving.

Shifting, Failla was surprised not to feel the sticky warmth of blood between her thighs or dampness oozing from her breasts.

"She has a child," Kerith said shakily.

"What has that to do with anything?" demanded Nath.

"I'm sorry."

Failla saw Kerith's eyes were wet with tears. She wondered if he was apologising to her or Nath.

"We have to find out who she was meeting," Nath insisted.

"I told her lies," Failla managed a whisper.

"Who was she?" Nath sat down on the plinth. "What did you tell her?"

"Pelletria." Failla cleared her throat. "A Triolle spy. I told her the Guilds were bringing exiles home to defend Carluse against Sharlac."

"She's telling the truth. I saw that much." Kerith helped her sit up.

"You've betrayed your uncle." Nath was aghast.

"She already knew what the priests and the guildsmen are doing," Failla said wearily. "She said she wouldn't tell as long as their plots had no bearing on Triolle's affairs."

Kerith looked at Nath. "Remember those rumours that Charoleia's been trying to pin down? About Duke Moncan of Sharlac planning an attack?"

Nath still looked baffled. "But why tell her anything?"

"She knew about my baby," Failla said savagely. "She said Duke Iruvain of Triolle would tell Duke Garnot. If he finds her, he'll give her to that cold bitch, Duchess Tadira."

"Why didn't you tell us?" cried Nath.

"She doesn't trust us." Kerith's voice shook. "She doesn't trust any of us."

"I came here to kill her tonight," Failla said, desolate. "I knew she'd realise I'd been lying when the fighting starts in Sharlac. But she knows already."

"I'd have cut her throat for you," Kerith said hoarsely.

Nath stared at him. "Saedrin save us."

"What would you do if someone was threatening your child?" Kerith challenged.

"All I want is to see my daughter safe." Failla felt hot tears trickle down her face. "But now she'll be taken to Garnot."

"But you believe in what we're doing," protested Nath. "You want to see an end to Lescar's suffering?"

"I've known you less than half a season." Failla shivered, chilled to the bone. "And your friends kidnapped me."

Kerith lifted her up, his hands too strong to resist. "How far is it to Lathi's farm?"

"What are you talking about?" Nath rose to his feet. "You think we can trust her now?"

Failla shied away, afraid of feeling the pain of Kerith's presence inside her head again. It didn't come.

"Forgive me." He looked unhappily at her. Unbuttoning his long tunic, he draped it around her shoulders. "Nath, this Triolle spy is threatening Failla's daughter and those who've cared for her. We must make sure they're safe, as quickly as possible. Otherwise they'll betray us to the duke's men to save their own necks. They'll have no choice. We'll all be captured and Saedrin save us then."

The warmth in the wool tunic helped calm Failla's trembling. Her thoughts were still in turmoil. "But I lied to you."

"Not really. You just didn't tell us the truth." Kerith managed a strained smile. "Vanam's logicians would say that's not quite the same thing."

"Where is your daughter?" Nath asked finally, reluctantly concerned. "What's her name?"

"I don't know." Failla's tears rose again.

"I know where she is," Kerith said. "We can be there by daybreak."

"Wait here while I get the horses and our gear." Nath spared Failla a more sympathetic look. "We can't take you back to the inn in this state, not without starting some scandalous rumour, and who knows how fast this spy might hear the tale." He looked at Kerith. "Tell Aremil what's happened, so he can tell Charoleia."

"Tell them I'm sorry." Failla wiped tears from her cheeks with shaking hands. "I'll go as far away as I can. I won't say anything, ever."

"Never mind that." Nath frowned. "We need to warn your uncle, in case this spy gets her revenge on you by betraying him, too."

Failla bit her lip. "Lathi can get word to him as quick as anyone."

Could a warning reach Uncle Ernout fast enough for him to act? Would Pelletria make good on her threats to betray the guildmasters' deceptions? Would Uncle Ernout ever forgive her?

"Nath, get the horses." Kerith handed her the lantern. "Failla, keep watch while I work the Artifice to rouse Aremil."

As Failla stood in the doorway and watched Nath disappear across the bridge, she felt oddly calm. Now everyone would know what she had done and why. Whatever Uncle Ernout thought of her, he'd still give her the gold she'd hoarded. She could take her daughter somewhere where no one knew them. Where would be far enough away to be sure no one could ever tell her little girl how her mother had first abandoned her and then betrayed family and allies alike for the sake of getting her back?

Soft in the stillness, she heard faint whispering. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Kerith sitting on the far side of Trimon's statue, his head buried in his hands.

The road was empty. She wondered how late it was, but the wind was in the wrong direction to carry any chimes from the town. Feeling cold once again, she slipped her arms into the tunic's sleeves and buttoned up the front.

The fire-basket on this side of the bridge burned down to a sullen glow of embers. No one came to replenish it. Presumably no one thought travellers would be on the road so late into the night.

"
Before we try any more forceful Artifice, we need to know a good deal more about what we're doing. I will not violate anyone, man or woman, like that again!
"

Failla whirled around, startled. An instant later she realised Kerith's angry words had rung inside her head rather than aloud inside the shrine.

He was standing, his back to her, his fists clenched at his sides. The murmur of enchantment faded into nothing.

"Garnot's men would have done far worse." Failla looked at the empty road. "They'd have raped me, even before they began asking questions."

"That's not the point," Kerith said through clenched teeth.

Neither of them spoke again until Nath appeared, hooded and cloaked, leading the horses laden with their baggage.

"I said we'd met friends who'd had bad news from home," he explained breathlessly.

"That's not so far from the truth." Kerith clambered gracelessly onto his mount's back.

"Your tunic." Failla hastily began unbuttoning it.

"Keep it," he said harshly.

"What did Aremil say?" Nath cupped his hands so Failla could step into them and threw her up into her saddle.

"That we ride as fast as we can to make sure we're the first ones to find Failla's child. Then we send Lathi and her family to Abray." The scholar shook out a cloak slung across his saddle and flung it around his shoulders. "Aremil says the men that Master Gruit has bringing supplies across Caladhria will make sure they're taken safely to Vanam." He looked at Failla. "We must tell your uncle to flee, along with anyone else this spy could have betrayed."

Nath looked doubtful. "Won't that prompt questions? If so many people disappear at once?"

Kerith shook his head. "Not when half of Sharlac starts running to stay ahead of the fighting."

Nath bit his lip. "What if we get to wherever Failla's hidden her child and find someone's already taken her?"

Kerith hesitated before answering. "Then Aremil will tell Tathrin and he will ask those two Mountain Men who seem to think so highly of her to devise some plan to take her back."

Failla stared at him. "After all I've done?"

Kerith looked her in the eye for the first time since Nath returned. "It'll be payment for everything you're still going to do."

"No." Failla's hands tensed on her reins. Her horse shook its head. "I'll take my daughter and go."

"Aremil says you know too much to be let loose. We cannot risk Triolle or Carluse catching you alone and unprotected." Kerith's face was implacable in the moonlight. "We've still got too much ahead of us to lose what assistance you can offer. You know more about the Guild conspiracies in Carluse than anyone. If Ernout and the rest are captured, that knowledge will be more valuable than ever." He turned his horse away from the bridge and kicked it into a brisk walk into the night.

"I can't argue with that and neither can you." Nath gestured for Failla to follow. "I'll bring up the rear."

Failla's horse readily took up its usual place between the two men. She let it find its own way through the darkness.

Was there anyone she could turn to now?

Chapter Thirty-Five

Litasse

Triolle Castle, in the Kingdom of Lescar,

43
^rd
of For-Autumn

"What is it?" Litasse swept past the lackey into Hamare's study.

The intelligencer waved an impatient hand, silent until the man shut the door again.