The Iron Palace (46 page)

A
S
L
ORD
Bahl, Froan had spent the winter improving his skill with arms, reviewing his ever-growing army, passing out harsh judgments, and indulging himself. Rich foods, fine wines, beautiful women, and all manner of luxuries were his, but as the countryside turned green, his conscience sometimes reappeared. That was partly because his opposite mood, a restless urge for mayhem, was exacerbated by the mild weather. Men and women perished in his sudden and violent rages, from which only Gorm was completely safe.

As His Lordship’s mentor, the Most Holy One usually dined with Froan. He was doing so when Froan suddenly felt troubled by one of his recent judgments and asked, “Do you remember the family I condemned to impalement?”

“The one that short-paid their tithe?” asked Gorm.

“Yes,” said Froan. “Perhaps I should have spared the children. They would have grown up to be soldiers.”

“Mayhap, my lord. But the little ones’ deaths served to deter other parents, and they provided souls to god. Your judgment was a wise one.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I speak to god and it answers me.”

“Why call the Devourer ‘it’?”

“Because it transcends gender.”

“Yet Karm’s a goddess.”

“Which proves my point. She possesses a woman’s frailty—a weak deity, worshipped by weaklings. You live in this magnificent palace, while Karm lacks a single temple.”

“Are you saying I’m more powerful than Karm?”

“After the suckling, that will be so, for your understanding and power will increase manyfold. So will your self-assurance. I know of your bouts of self-doubt. The ritual will banish those.”

“You’ve never spoken of this ritual before.”

“I’ve been waiting for the priestess to arrive.”

“Priestess? I thought the Devourer was served only by men.”

“This woman’s an exception.”

“What does she do? Let me suckle from her breasts?”

Gorm chuckled, “No, you sip her blood. A taste is usually sufficient. Then you’ll be complete.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will, my lord. It’ll be quite a revelation.”

“Where and when will this take place?”

“Atop the highest tower. As to when—soon, I expect. Very soon.”

As usual, Froan sensed that Gorm was holding something back, but he had long ago abandoned attempts to probe him. The Most Holy One was immune to his gaze. Froan wondered if that would change after the suckling. He hoped that it would.

Although Honus prepared for the journey to the Iron Palace with a heavy heart, he strove for a quick departure. He sensed Yim’s dread, and knew delay would only prolong it.
Best make the leap without too much reflection
, he
thought, fearing that dwelling on the dangers ahead would sap Yim’s hope without altering her resolve. Cara helped by providing clothing appropriate for Bahland and rations that needed no cooking.

To speed their journey, they would travel through Averen on horse back with a pack horse to carry their supplies. Then, before they reached Bahland, they would abandon the animals to cross the border inconspicuously on foot. The only drawback to this plan was that a groom would accompany them to take the horses back. That meant they would have less privacy on the pleasant portion of their trip.

The preparations took only three days. Each night, Honus and Yim made love amid the withered violets, and it was bittersweet. Meals in the banquet hall felt the same. The conversation was subdued or had a forced cheerfulness. Cara was mostly quiet. On the fifth morning after Yim’s return from Thistle’s tower, all was ready. As Honus, Yim, and the groom prepared to mount, Cara rushed out into the courtyard. “I’ve said so many good-byes already, you must think me daft to say another.”

“No, Cara,” replied Yim.

“I remember waving from the boat on the night I sailed from Faerie,” said Cara. “Then I thought you were going to your love, and it made me feel better. But now …”

“Once again, I’m going to my love—my son.” Yim smiled and grasped Honus’s hand. “And my beloved is going with me.”

“You make it sound so fine, but—but … I can na say it. I
will
na say it. Oh, Yim! Oh, Honus!”

“This will end well, Cara,” said Yim. “I truly believe that.”

“Well, your faith’s why you’re a Bearer, and I’m na.”

“I’m no longer a Bearer. I’m a mother. I know you’d do the same for any child of yours.”

“Mayhap,” said Cara, “I’d like to think so.” She embraced
Honus. “Take care of her, Honus. And care of yourself.” Then she embraced Yim. “May Karm protect you. Now, both of you come back, and do na wait eighteen winters to do it!” Then teary eyed, Cara kissed them both before rushing into the hall.

Honus led the way out the manor gates and through the village. Then he turned down the lane that followed the lakeshore westward. This route would avoid the more traveled roads. When they were nearly past the lake, a voice called from the water. “Mother!” All gazed in its direction and saw a head peering from the lake’s choppy surface.

Yim called back. “Thistle?”

“Aye,” the girl answered. Then she began swimming toward the shore with powerful strokes. She reached it much sooner than Honus expected, emerging unclothed from the icy water. Striding over to the party, she addressed the groom first. “Hamick, you may return to your family. The Old Ones will see Mama’s horses safely home.” When the man seemed to hesitate, she added in a more commanding tone, “Now off with you. I must speak with Mother and Karmamatus.”

As the groom rode off, Thistle kissed Yim’s hand. “Mother, do you have what I gave you?”

“Yes, it’s in my hair.”

“Remember all I said, for ’twill make sense in time. I’ve na more to say except the Old Ones will learn how this ends, and I’ll tell Mama.” Then she turned to Honus. “Karmamatus, you still carry an iron stick. You should heed me.”

“I’m a Sarf,” replied Honus, “and have need of a sword.”

“ ’Tis its tool, na hers,” replied Thistle. “Think on that.”

“I will.”

“My love and hope go with you,” said Thistle, already striding toward a thicket. “Now I must pick my dress.” When she reached the bushes she seemed to vanish.

Honus and Yim rode on, happier to be traveling alone together. When they took one last glance toward Cara’s hall,
they spied Thistle dressed in greenery and skipping in its direction.

When Yim could ignore her ominous destination, traveling through Averen seemed like her wedding journey. She thought that because she was alone with her love, and because the night after her winter-long nap felt like her wedding night. She quickly grew used to traveling with Honus again, for throughout their times together they had been always on the move.
The longest we were ever in one place
, thought Yim,
was when we spent twelve days with Commodus
. She wondered what it would be like to settle down with Honus; to watch all the seasons from one place; to plant a crop and harvest it; and most of all, to live without fear. It seemed a wonderful dream.

Averen’s winters were long and hard, and that gave its springs a special exuberance. The golden green of new leaves was complemented by clouds of wildflowers. Yim and Honus sought out quiet hollows where they made love with desperate abandon, clinging to moments that—like the season—would pass all too soon. They never talked about the future, and seldom about the past. The present was everything, and both wished it would last forever.

Nevertheless, their horses carried them onward, and all too soon Averen’s mountains lay to the south. The land flattened and when the wind came from the west, it was chill and damp. “The sea’s nearby,” said Honus.

“I’ve never seen it,” replied Yim. “What’s it like?”

“Judge for yourself. You’ll get the chance very soon. It’s time to set the horses loose.” Honus dismounted and removed his mount’s bridle and reins. As Yim did the same, Honus took their packs from the third horse’s back and then removed its bridle.

“Are we close to Bahland?” asked Yim.

“I don’t know for certain,” said Honus, “but I suspect so.
There are markers on the roads, but we don’t want to take a road.”

Yim patted her horse and nuzzled it. “Thank you,” she said to it. Then her horse trotted off and the others followed. As Yim watched them go, she wished that she were going with them. Nevertheless, she shouldered her pack and turned to Honus. “Well, are you going to show me the sea?”

Ever since they had left the mountains, the country seemed all wasteland. The hard ground, which sloped slightly upward to the west, supported mostly course grass, scrub, and a few stunted trees. The wind seemed the reason. It blew incessantly. Yim and Honus needed their cloaks despite the time of year. Honus had chosen their route because its desolation provided safety; a gentler landscape nurtured settlements and spying eyes.

They walked only a short while before the land suddenly fell away and they stood on the edge of a high, black cliff overlooking the ocean. The day was overcast, and the vast expanse of water was the sullen shade of dull pewter. Nonetheless, Yim was enchanted. “How grand!” she exclaimed. “I feel like I did when I visited Faerie: My troubles seem small against something so timeless.”

Honus said nothing, but he wrapped his arms around her.

Knowing that the Iron Palace overlooked the sea meant that they could find it by simply following the coastline. That was what they did, moving inland just far enough to avoid the worst of the wind. They traveled warily, avoiding all human contact. Whenever they encountered a dwelling or a settlement, they either made a cautious detour or waited for darkness to move on.

Once they encountered a ragged girl of perhaps eight winters. She was gathering wood when she spied them. Yim glanced at Honus and was alarmed to see that he had
drawn his sword. As she motioned him to sheath it, the girl dashed off. Yim and Honus ran in the opposite direction, and soon heard the sounds of people searching for them. Fortunately, the encounter had taken place near sunset, and they were able to slip off in the darkness. Fearful of pursuit, they traveled all night.

Throughout their journey through Bahland, Yim and Honus made love only once. They did it quickly on a chilly night, wrapped in their damp cloaks. Honus dressed immediately afterward, his skin covered with goose bumps.
It’s not just the night’s chill
, Yim thought,
it’s me
. Ever since they had entered Bahl’s domain, her permanent chill had deepened. Yim sensed that the Devourer within her had grown stronger, despite its quiescence otherwise. The change was worrisome, and it caused Yim to increase her struggles against her inner foe. She was certain that Honus noticed when she turned inward and grew quiet and grim faced. Yim didn’t know if he guessed the nature of those episodes, but she suspected he did. Nevertheless, Honus never commented on them, just as he never mentioned her unnatural chill.

After nine days of nerve-racking travel, they spied a tiny spot of black in the distance. Upon her first glimpse of it, Yim felt a malign presence that left no doubt that she was viewing the Iron Palace. All the horrific memories of her first encounter with Lord Bahl—memories she had striven so hard to suppress—welled up. For a moment, she was paralyzed by fear.
But this time, Lord Bahl’s my son
. She hoped it would make a difference.

Yim felt Honus gently shaking her. “We shouldn’t approach any closer by daylight,” he said. “Let’s find a place to wait for night.”

Yim simply nodded and followed Honus to a scruffy clump of low, woody bushes. They crawled among them and lay down both to avoid being seen and to get some relief
from the wind. Yim was cold despite her cloak and Honus’s arms around her. She endured her discomfort in stoic silence, for she wanted to seem brave and confident despite feeling frightened and miserable.

D
UE TO
the time of year, the sun set late. Thus Honus spent a long time hiding in the scrub with Yim. She had fallen silent, and Honus felt certain that he knew the reason; she was steeling herself for what she had to do. Honus knew there was nothing he could say to aid her. With all his heart, he wanted to dissuade her from going onward. To him, Yim’s quest was as unfathomable as it was dangerous.
Save Lord Bahl? What could possibly do that?
Honus didn’t have a clue, and he worried that Yim didn’t either.
Yet that won’t stop her
.

Honus would not try to stop her, either. He loved Yim in her entirety, and this quest was part of who she was. He suspected that it might even be her essence. Moreover, he felt that he was still Yim’s Sarf, whether she saw herself as his Bearer or not. Accordingly, he believed his role was to help her in any way she deemed fit. He would die for her if necessary; it was something he had trained to do.

At dusk, Yim and Honus ate as they waited for darkness. Cara had provided them with cheese, sausages, and traveler’s hardbread. “Remember our journey through Luvein?” asked Yim. “How I dreamed of sausages and cheese!”

“Cara gave us tasty fare,” replied Honus, “far better
than I’m used to.” He smiled, glad that Yim was talking again.

“You’re the expert on fortifications. What’s our plan for tonight?”

“The moon should rise around midnight,” replied Honus, “so we’ll approach the palace in the dark, and observe it when the moon rises.”

“Then what?”

“The seaward cliffs offer many hiding places. I hope to find one close to the palace. I’ll need to observe it by daylight, too.”

“And what will you be looking for?”

“A weakness to exploit. A way we can get in and find your son. After that, the rest is up to you.”

When darkness came at last, they headed toward a destination that neither could see any longer. The Iron Palace became visible again only when the moon rose. It was still distant. Honus gazed at it awhile. “It’s like a mountain,” he said, “so big, it looks closer than it is.”

“Let’s keep moving,” said Yim. “We won’t be seen. It’s only a quarter moon.”

“Bright enough for keen eyes.”

“Why be so cautious when our goal’s so risky?” said Yim. “Nothing’s safe from now on. Let’s go.”