The Iron Palace (40 page)

Yim smiled. “This is a dream.”

“But it’s a good dream,” said the girl. “Drop your heavy pack and run with me.”

“Where?”

“To Dar Beard Chin’s hall. Your bear waits for you.”

“Gruwff?”

“Na her. A he bear.”

Since it was a dream, Yim did as she was asked. When the girl dashed off, Yim followed close behind. It felt good to run. The flowers released their perfume as she crushed them beneath her feet.
This certainly is a fine dream
, she thought. The girl looked back over her shoulder and grinned in agreement.

The flowers parted to reveal a road that wound between two mountains. Yim continued to lope behind the girl. It was effortless. Her breathing was easy and her legs weren’t
tired at all. Above, the clouds gave way. A full moon hung in a starry sky. Thus when the pair rounded a bend and viewed the valley beyond, Cara’s hall and its surrounding village were silhouetted against the silver of a moonlit lake.

The girl increased her pace, and Yim matched it. She felt like wind rushing down the road, unburdened and free.
My bear awaits
, thought Yim, envisioning strong furry arms wrapped about her. It was only when they had passed through the sleeping village that Yim began to feel cold again. Suddenly her breath came in gasps and her throat was raw. Her legs turned leaden and her face and fingers stung. Yim slowed. Then she cramped and nearly doubled over in pain. She felt incapable of taking another step. Her clothes were caked with snow. Parts were wet, while other parts were frozen. Glancing back at the countryside, Yim saw only darkness, ice, and snow.

The girl grabbed her arm, tugging it urgently. “Come inside, Mother. Do na stop now. Remember your bear.”

“What bear?”

The girl didn’t reply. Instead, she tugged at Yim, forcing her to take a painful step. The girl tugged again. Yim took another step. By this means, she was pulled through a door within a gate, across a courtyard paved with ice-covered cobbles, and into a manor hall. It was warmer in the hall, but so dark that Yim could barely see. The girl helped her pull off her wet, snow-caked boots. Yim left them lying in the entrance hall along with her dripping socks as the girl took her hand and guided her away. Their bare feet made no sound as they walked down a corridor, climbed several flights of stairs, and passed down a hallway. The girl stopped in front of a closed door. “Your bear waits inside. It’s winter, so let him sleep.”

“Am I still dreaming?” asked Yim.

“Partly,” replied the girl. “Come inside. I’ll help you out of your wet things.”

Yim nodded wearily. The girl opened the door and pushed her into a paneled room that smelled of ancient flowers. It had a window that overlooked a winter landscape. By its dim light, Yim saw the shadowy form of the bear. He lay on a bed and was sleeping, just as the girl said he would be.

The girl undressed her. One by one, Yim’s garments fell to the floor with a wet flop. Concerned that the sound would wake the bear, Yim glanced in his direction. Then she squinted her eyes, for it seemed that the bear was a man asleep beneath a cover. Then he was a bear again. The girl pushed Yim’s sodden clothes aside. Then she lifted the cover to reveal the bear. He was a small bear. “Small, but warm,” said the girl. She patted the bed. “Come crawl beside him.”

Yim did. The girl vanished. The bear stirred in his sleep. When Yim nestled against his warmth, he wrapped an arm around her in a way that seemed almost human. The gesture scarcely registered on Yim’s consciousness. She was slipping from one dream into another.

I
T WAS
a dream, but it contained truths. Honus was lost on the Dark Path, traveling over cold, stone hills and through misty, yet dry, rocky valleys. He had been doing it for so long that time had lost all meaning; there was only stone, mist, and emptiness. Then Honus crested a hill and beheld a valley filled with white flowers. Descending among them, he felt warm for the first time in ages. The blossoms
overflowed the valley, extending to the horizon. The air was thick with their fragrance. A young woman stood in their midst, her long golden hair stirred by a soft breeze.

At first, Honus thought that the young woman was Rose. Then he drew nearer and saw that her gown was made of violets and her tranquil face shone with wisdom. “Thistle?” he said.

Thistle smiled. “Karmamatus.”

“You’ve grown up.”

“Nay, but I’m nearing my sixteenth winter.” Thistle whirled gracefully on bare feet, the hem of her floral gown flaring out. When she stopped spinning, Honus noticed that she held a honeycomb in one hand. His mouth watered at the sight of it. He was on all fours, so instead of reaching for it, he simply tried to bite it. Thistle pulled back her hand, and Honus’s snout snapped closed on empty air.

Thistle giggled and skipped off through the flowers, the tantalizing treat still in her hand. Honus loped after her. As he did, he wondered how long he had been a bear.
Perhaps I’ve always been one and just didn’t know
. Honus briefly wondered if that could be possible before turning his thoughts toward a sweeter concern. There was honey ahead, and he longed for it.

As fast as Honus ran, Thistle ran faster. She always stayed a few steps in front of him. Although Thistle didn’t seem to tire, Honus did. He was growing sleepy. That wasn’t the only change: The blossoms on Thistle’s gown were fading to shades of brown and beige. The flowers in the fields were becoming snow. It was getting dark.

Then it was night. Ahead, surrounded by a sleeping village, was Cara’s hall. Thistle ran up to its outer gates before she halted. She lifted a finger to her lips, so Honus whispered rather than spoke. “Where’s the honey?” he asked.

“I’ve something sweeter,” whispered Thistle.

“What?”

“A she cub to share your slumber.”

“Cubs sleep with their mothers.”

“This cub’s already a mother. She needs something else.” Thistle’s face turned serious, almost stern. “She needs your strength—the kind that springs from gentleness, not the false might of an iron stick. As you well know, such sticks break. Now go and sleep. When you awake, show your strength.”

Then Honus was in his den. Thistle was gone, but he wasn’t alone. A cub was in his sleeping space. She lacked fur and felt cold. Honus reached out and pulled her against his warmth. He was confused and fatigued; and since it was winter, he decided to sleep until spring. When he woke, he could try to understand his dream and sort out what was true and what was not.

The dream somewhat prepared Honus for the shock of finding Yim naked in his bed. The discovery was so unexpected and inexplicable that only illogic helped him comprehend it. Yim was sleeping peacefully beside him, her bare skin cool to the touch. Honus ignored questions of how and why she had arrived. Instead, he basked in the glorious wonder that she was there. He did nothing to disturb her, for despite the confirmation of his senses that Yim was real, he feared that she might vanish as mysteriously as she had appeared. Thus Honus remained perfectly still, with one arm wrapped around his love, as silent tears streamed down his face.

They might have remained that way all morning had there not been knocking on the door. It was accompanied by Cara’s voice. “Honus, you slugabed! ’Tis bears that sleep through winter, na men! You promised—”

Yim woke with a start, uttering a little yelp. Then she sat up in bed, stared at Honus with wide eyes and uttered a second, much louder yelp.

“Honus?” called Cara’s voice. “Who’s in there? What’s going on?”

Yim was staring at him, her face registering so many emotions that he found it impossible to sort them out. Yim seemed incapable of speech. Honus thought it might be due to the purple scar that crossed her throat. He called back to Cara. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

The door flung open. “Zounds, Honus, I—Oh—oh, Holy Mother Karm! Nay, it can na be! Yim! Are you truly here?”

“No. I think I’m frozen in some snowbank,” replied Yim in a distant, puzzled tone. “Or at the bottom of a lake.”

“Oh, zounds, nay! You’re here! Without a stitch in Honus’s bed!”

Yim grabbed the cover and pulled it around her.

Cara glanced at the sodden clothes on the floor. “So those were your boots and socks in the entrance hall.”

“I don’t know how they got there, or I here,” said Yim. “I’ve no idea at all. I was lost in a storm at night, and then I dreamed of a child wearing only leaves who—”

“Thistle!” said Honus as Cara simultaneously said “Violet!”

“Who?” asked Yim.

“My daughter, Violet,” said Cara. “ ’Tis a long story.”

“She said she’d take me to my bear,” said Yim.

“I was a bear!” exclaimed Honus.

“And I’m a lunatic,” said Cara, “or soon will be. If you do na know how you got into my hall, how did you find Honus’s room?”

“The girl brought me. Only last night it wasn’t Honus’s room. She said I’d sleep with my bear.”

Cara shook her head. “Aye, that sounds like Violet, all right. Well, Yim, have you adopted her lack of dress or shall I get you some dry clothes?” Cara beamed. “Or mayhap, I was interrupting something.”

“Dry clothes would be very nice,” replied Yim.

Cara looked somewhat disappointed. “Then I’ll get
them for you myself. While I do, mayhap you could please figure out what has happened. I’m dying to know. Zounds, absolutely dying! But I’ll leave your dry frock outside the door, in case … Well, in case of what ever.” Cara left, closing the door behind her.

As soon as the door shut, Yim turned to Honus. “You’ve been weeping.”

“They were tears of joy.”

Yim reached out to tenderly stroke the contours of his furrowed face. To Honus, her expression resembled that of someone examining wounds. “Oh, Honus, life has been hard to you!”

“That was my fault.”

Yim’s eyes welled with tears. “I don’t believe that.”

In an attempt to change the conversation, Honus leaned over and softly kissed Yim’s cheek. “You’re exactly as I remember, except for the scar.”

“A fensman did that. It was an accident.”

Honus suspected otherwise, but he said, “And did you bear the child?”

“Yes, a son. His name’s Froan.”

“Froan?” Honus felt a sudden chill in the pit of his stomach. “That name’s mentioned in my runes.”

“How do you know that? I thought that Sarfs … Do you have a new Bearer?”

“No, but I stayed with one before I came here. He saved my life and gave me guidance. He said that my runes told of three intertwined fates—yours, mine, and Froan’s.” Honus watched Yim’s eyes widen. “You seem surprised to hear that.”

“I suppose I shouldn’t be,” replied Yim. “After all, I had a dream—or perhaps a vision—of you. You said your runes foretold you’d help me.” Yim sighed. “And, Honus, I need help. I worry that what I must do is beyond my strength.”

“I believe I had the same dream,” said Honus. “We met
at night in a lonely place. I recall saying I’d help you and that we’d meet again.”

“And then I rushed to embrace you.”

“Yes!”

“But you vanished before I could.”

“Yes!”

“All I did was brush your face.” Yim reached out to duplicate the gesture. As soon as she did, Yim completed what she had begun in her dream. She embraced Honus as fervently as she had in the clearing after restoring his life. He wept, overcome by emotion so powerful that it mingled joy with grief, and she wept also. Honus’s mouth found Yim’s. Her lips were cool, but her response wasn’t. It seemed to mirror his passion.

Honus tugged the cover so it fell away, allowing him to caress Yim’s bare skin. He thrilled at the touch of her flesh after so many winters of emptiness and longing. His hands traveled up and down Yim’s back before seeking the softness of her breasts. As they did, Honus felt Yim stiffen. Then, she gently pushed him away and pulled the cover around her body.

Honus gazed at Yim at a loss for words, sensing for the first time the gap created by their long separation and wondering how he could bridge it. The possibility that he couldn’t suddenly filled him with panic. He worried that, driven by pent-up desire, he might have ruined the moment he had longed for.

Yim was also silent, and she looked equally uncomfortable. Nevertheless, she spoke first. “Honus, I can’t. Not yet. I’m still confused, and I’m afraid to rush into anything.”

“I’m sorry. I know it’s been a long time.”

“It has, Honus, and I’m different from the woman you knew.”

“How?”

“When I conceived Froan, the Devourer entered me. It’s
never left. Not entirely. And I struggle with it all the time. I’m capable of … of … horrid things.”

“Perhaps my love will cure that.”

Yim appeared dubious. “Maybe you’re right. I don’t know. But I didn’t leave the Grey Fens seeking love. Froan ran away, and I left to save him.”

“Then I’ll help,” said Honus, hoping he didn’t sound desperate.

“Before you make that promise, you should know what you’ll face.”

Honus gazed into Yim’s eyes and saw a depth of despair that made him uneasy. “What is it?”

“Froan is Lord Bahl.”

Honus felt he shouldn’t have been surprised. Nevertheless, Yim’s statement took him aback, and it made her goal seem nonsensical. “Why talk of saving Lord Bahl? It’s the world that needs saving.”

“Saving the world’s beyond me,” said Yim. “I can only do what I’m able.”

“And you’re capable of saving your son, no matter what he’s become?”

“I think I’m capable of trying, though trying may be all I can do.”

Honus recalled his dream of the previous night.
Thistle said Yim needs my strength
. It seemed absurd to act upon a dream, and Honus realized that he couldn’t. Instead, he would act because of love. “If you attempt to save Lord Bahl, you won’t do it alone.”

“Z
OUNDS
, Y
IM
!” said Cara, shaking her head. “And to think they make up ballads about
my
life!” She refilled her and Yim’s goblets with falfhissi, and took another swallow of the dark liquor. It was evening, and the two women were in “Dar’s room,” the clan mother’s bedchamber. The remnants of their private dinner lay on a nearby table, and they were sitting on Cara’s bed. Yim, still fragrant from her first bath in moons, wore one of Cara’s long-sleeved woolen gowns. “Aye,” said Cara, “what a fine time the bards would have with you! You’re both Lord Bahl’s lover
and
his mother.”