Sun Cross 1 - The Rainbow Abyss (31 page)

Tally couldn’t have known it would be Marc who would be sent to fetch her
, Rhion thought, with a curious, despairing detachment.
The plan must have come to her when she saw him
. One had to admit that it cut through all the problems.

Except that Tally would now marry Marc.

It was fortunate that Esrex was still staring at his wife in stupefied rage as Rhion looked away, unable to endure the sight of that slim, dull-gold form in the brawny brown clasp of the young Captain’s arm.

The Duke regarded his daughter for some moments in grave silence, seeing in the set ivory face, the desperate gray eyes, the mute plea for him to understand and to help. At her side, Marc was trying to appear noble, but had the air of one who has laid everything he owns on the table and awaits the cut of the cards. Rhion wondered distractedly how Tally had talked him into this. If he failed, he would surely be banished, though it was clear that the Duke was under no illusions about what was going on. But then, Rhion’s impression of Marc had always been that he was rather easily led. She probably had not told him the name of the child’s true father. If he succeeded…

“My children.”
The Duke held out his hands.

Rhion closed his eyes again, shaking all over with relief and grief. He was saved—Tally was saved—their son would be allowed to live. And if Esrex had thrust the torch into his oil-soaked robes in the courtyard of the Veiled God, he thought it would have been easier to stand than this.

The rest of the scene seemed to pass over his head, an exchange of voices at some huge distance, almost meaningless.

“It is not me that has been most wronged, but our cousin and friend, the Earl of the Purple
Forest…”

“My lord…” Without opening his eyes, Rhion knew that Marc had gone to kneel at the Earl’s feet. That was another thing rich young men or youths of noble family like Marc were taught—how to kneel with grace and when. “I can only beg of you as a lover that you release the girl I adore from her obligation to you…”

It was a comedy of manners, with all the stock characters present: the handsome but impecunious young lover; the stern father; and the glamorous roué with
noblesse oblige
and a heart of hidden gold. The Duke—and the Earl—must both have known from the start that any hope of an alliance was irreparably shattered. The rest of Marc’s manly apology, of the Earl’s gracious speech of agreement, of the ducal blessing upon the young lovers, and his gift to Marc of sufficient lands and estates to honor his soon-to-be-bride—undoubtedly why Marc, the son of penniless nobility, had agreed to the gamble in the first place—went unheard. Tally had seen a way out and had taken it, as she would have sprung from the roof of a burning building across a wide gap to safety.

But she would always now be another man’s wife.

Of course, Rhion told himself, he had known from the start that this was how it must be. This grief he must have—he
had—
foreseen from the moment their eyes had met in the snowy, grim-haunted woods. There was no reason to feel this pain… no reason…

He lowered his head to his hand, his temples throbbing, feeling sick and cold and alone to the marrow of his bones.

After a time he felt Tally’s hands on his shoulders, smelled the perfumes of her hair and gown, sweetgrass and dogs. He startled up. Esrex would see, would know…

But Esrex was gone.

The huge hall was empty save for Tally, Jaldis, the Duke, and himself. Gray light leaked through the window-lattices, making the whole gigantic space an echoing symphony of dove and pewter and white in which the few lamps still burning had a sleazy air. The Duke, his role in the comedy played, was regarding his daughter with grave respect tinged with deep sadness, fully aware of what she had done. Jaldis, at the other end of the couch, his head bowed upon his hands again, looked like something fished dead from a gutter.

Tally caught Rhion’s face between her palms and knelt to kiss him. “Watch it…” He caught her wrists. “I’m covered with oil.”

Something in that mundane remark served to shatter the brittle air of tragedy that hung between them. It came upon him that he really was alive, that they really were saved, that their son would be born, and that Tally’s solution had been brilliant, decisive, and far better than he had ever expected. “To hell with it,” he added, and crushed her tight to his chest.

It was only after a few minutes that he realized she was crying.

“Oh, Rhion, I’m sorry,” she whispered, as their mouths finally parted. “I’m so sorry…”

“Ah!” Rhion cried, pressing a melodramatic hand to his brow. “I always knew you’d throw me over someday for some hunk of beef in a bronze breastplate…”

“You…!” She almost choked with laughter on top of her tears and, still laughing, pulled away and pummeled him on the shoulder, drawing a gasp of genuine pain… he’d forgotten the bruises that covered him.

“Oh!” she cried, horrified and contrite. “Oh, Rhion, I
am
sorry…!”

“You already said that.”

And they both looked up, to see the Duke standing over them, his face grim, weary, and infinitely sad.

Hesitantly, Tally got to her feet, the front of her golden gown all blotched with grime. Her father caught her hand before she could sink once more to her knees. “No,” he said gently, and touched her cheek.

She looked away from him, her eyes flooding again with tears of shame and remorse. In the heart of her deception, the show she was putting on for others, she had been brave. She whispered despairingly, “Father…”

He shook his head and removed with his thumb the tear that crept slowly over her cheekbone. “I can manage somehow without the alliance,” he told her. “You haven’t cost me my realm, you know. It will only mean… care and negotiation. And some plans which must now be postponed. The Earl is man of the world enough not to take personal offense, which is what I most greatly feared.”

From what he had heard of the Earl, Rhion guessed his words had been,
Better learn now than later she’s a slut
, accompanied by a casual shrug. But he kept his silence. Tally, who knew her suitor better than he, would have known perfectly well what he’d say.

The Duke’s fingers moved to her lips as she began to apologize once more.

“That was very quick thinking,” he went on, forcing cheer and comfort into his voice to cover his weariness and his anger at the miscarriage of all his carefully laid plans of alliance. “You forced my hand very nicely—no, I mean that as a compliment. Courage and resolution are the mark of a statesman, and the ability to use what the gods send. I’m only sorry it has to be Erralswan—not that he won’t treat you well, but his family’s a poor one and they have very little position…”

“It had to be someone,” Tally said, her voice very small. “I mean, I had to find someone willing to say,
right then
, that he was my lover, that my child was his… And I could never…” Her voice faltered. “I knew I’d have to marry someone else and that I could never marry Rhion. And even without Esrex, I don’t think I could have gone to the Earl pregnant by another man.”

“No,” the Duke said quietly. “Many women would have tried, but that he would never have forgiven.” He sighed heavily, and by the expression in his eyes Rhion guessed his mind was already at work, re-shaping the possible concessions he’d have to make to the land-barons to salvage the wreck of his policies, now that he’d lost his chance of a foreign alliance.

“No,” he went on. “And I expect Erralswan jumped at the chance to improve his fortunes. But if I’d known that’s the way out you were going to take,” he finished, with forced lightness that almost succeeded in being genuine, “believe me, I’d have sent someone of more fortune and better family up to fetch you.”

Tally laughed and gulped, trying to keep back tears of relief, and the Duke turned to Rhion, who got slowly to his feet to face him, teeth gritted against the agony of his broken ribs. Cold and frightened, Tally’s fingers stole around Rhion’s in the concealing folds of gown and robe.

“You’ll have to go away, you know.”

“I know.” Exhaustion, pain, and the aftermath of shock and grief were blurring into one vast, aching desolation of weariness. It would be enough, he thought, to know that his son was safe, no matter who the boy learned to call father. Enough to know that Tally was safe…

“I’ll send you word,” the Duke went on, “when the child is near to being born. I think that will be long enough to quiet tongues. But even after that, it is probably best that you do not live in Bragenmere.”

It took Rhion a long moment of silence to realize that he was not being banished for good, but that he was being told that he could, eventually, re-enter the city gates. He started to speak, but the Duke raised his hand quickly, cutting off his words.

“Further than that I do not wish to know,” he said. “And indeed, I cannot know. Not with what you are—not with most of the cults against such as you. I will not speak now of the decision that a scandal will force me to make, if one comes, but I warn you…” His eyes went from Rhion’s face to his daughter’s, the bitter grief in them the grief that only rulers bear. “I will make it.”

Tally bowed her head, unable to meet his eye, but her hand tightened around Rhion’s, and he felt it tremble.

“Until that day comes,” the Duke went on, “you, Rhion, will be welcome in my city and under my roof. I trust you will remember.” And before Rhion could speak he turned away; going to where Jaldis sat at the other end of the couch, he went to one knee and touched the crippled hand.

“Old friend,” the Duke said softly, “half a dozen times I’ve offered you the hospitality of my household, to pursue your studies in quiet—and, I might add after tonight, in safety. I’ve banished Rhion for the time being—you understand that I had to banish him. But please understand that my offer to you—my affection for you, old friend—still stands as it has always stood. Will you come?”

Jaldis raised his head and, with the back of one twisted finger, adjusted the set of the heavy opal spectacles upon his face. He was thinking, Rhion guessed, of the elaborate preparations for the feast of Summerfire, and how they had taken him away from other matters dearer to his heart; of the constant small demands that drew energy from the great studies of magic; and of his days at the court of Lord Henak, and what had come of them.

Then he sighed, the brittle shoulders relaxing as he released what Rhion knew to be the last free years of his life. “I am an old man,” he said, “and have been a wanderer for many years. Rhion my son…” Rhion released Tally’s hand, limped stiffly to grasp the fingers his master held out to him. The surprising, powerful grip brought back to him the memories of the flight across the roofs of Felsplex, the rain in the Drowned Lands… a thousand memories, back to a bright morning heavy with the scent of flowers on the bridge of the City of Circles, a tall, straight old man and a young dandy in jeweled red velvet by the stalls that sold pieces of old books.
Are you hunting for secrets…?

He had certainly found them. One or two, he realized, he wished had remained beyond his ken.

“I’ll be all right.” He felt the old man’s hand tighten over his. “I’ll be back as soon as I can to see you…”

“And that will be soon,” the Duke promised, his eyes traveling from Rhion’s face to Jaldis’ and on to his daughter’s.

“Eleven years isn’t long to study wizardry, you know,” Jaldis said, straightening up a little as Tally flung herself convulsively into her father’s arms. The talismans hanging from the voice-box made small, metallic music as he sat up, the golden sun-cross amulet catching a feeble glint of the dawn light. “But you have had a good start.”

“Where will you go?” Tally broke away from the Duke’s embrace as Rhion turned, stiff and aching—she had to catch his arm to keep him from falling when he tried to take a step. Every muscle in his body hurt without in the smallest measure detracting from the grinding pain in his side.

“First,” he said a little shakily, “to have a bath.
And then to get another pair of spectacles. And then, ” he said, sighing and putting an arm around her shoulders, “someplace where I’ll never make another love-potion again as long as I live.”

So it was that Rhion returned to the Drowned Lands of Sligo, to become the Scribe for the Ladies of the Moon.

And seven years slipped by with no more sound than sunlight makes upon the grass.

His son was born in April, a fat, robust baby named Kir. By that time Jaldis was settled comfortably in three small rooms on the top floor of the octagonal library tower and was looking better than Rhion had seen him in years. Of the few things stolen by neighbors from the house in Shuttlefly Court, nothing had been destroyed, and the Duke had managed to get everything back except the small quantities of gold and silver, which, to Jaldis, scarcely mattered. It was the books which had been his chief concern. Surprisingly, Prymannie the schoolmistress had kept them for him—perhaps out of gratitude for headaches cured or because, as a schoolmistress, she could not bear that books be destroyed; perhaps because, more intelligent than her neighbors, she had read the situation more clearly and was betting on a return to favor and a reward.

When Rhion saw Jaldis again, his brown robes were made of good-quality wool, warm against the sharp spring chill, his beard trimmed and his long white hair neatly cut.

“He misses you,” Tally said, on one of the evenings when Rhion had come to sit beside her bed in the Erralswan apartments overlooking the palace garden, while the baby slept at her breast. “Father offered to give him a slave to look after him but he refused. He keeps house for himself well up there, but when I go up to talk to him, he usually talks about you.”

“He hasn’t…” Rhion hesitated, troubled for a moment out of his delighted contemplation of the round pink cherub curled like a puppy in the linen nest of Tally’s nightdress. “He hasn’t talked about something called a Dark Well, has he? Or about a world without magic?”

Tally frowned, thinking back, and shook her head. “Not to me.”

Rhion returned to Bragenmere fairly frequently after that, often four or five times in the course of a summer, before the snows and rains of winter closed the roads. Though Jaldis still sometimes instructed him and though they still spent nights until dawn, talking of new learning he had found, or old learning rediscovered, in the ancient books of the palace library, Rhion gradually came to think of himself as Jaldis’ former pupil instead of Jaldis’ student. Among the wizards and in the countryside between Imber and the Mountains of the Sun, he came to be known as Rhion of Sligo, Scribe of the Drowned Lands.