The Jackal of Nar (48 page)

She rushed to the bedroom door and peered out into the hallway. She was half naked but she didn’t care. No one. The door closed soundlessly behind her. She fell to her knees at the bedside, her hands trembling with fear and self-loathing as she picked up the tattered book. Jenna’s warnings flooded her mind in a torrent. Did she really want to do this? The answer came to her with equal force.

Yes!

The book opened like a dry, yellow flower. Pages and pages of runny ink leapt out at her, undecipherable scribblings and unpronounceable names. She read in a whisper, appalled and amazed at the violence and emotions portrayed. It was as if she were looking into Richius’ very soul. She skipped ahead, passing up the end of a brutal battle, and fingered her way toward the last pages.

“Dinadin,” she thought aloud, scanning the scratchy penmanship for the name. If she could find him in the journal …

She stopped. Another name appeared. Not Dinadin. A woman’s name. Sabrina’s blood thundered in her temples. She fought to still her hands, to make the fingers turn the page. A feverish sense of
dread nagged at her, warned her to stop, but she continued. This was something she had hardly imagined in her worst fantasies. She read on, every word stinging her like a thousand fiery needles. She read until the excerpt ended, and when she was done she dropped the open journal onto her lap, dumbfounded.

Outside the rain deepened. She looked toward the window and ‘the black day beyond. Unable to rise, she remained on her knees, her body atremble. For she had learned what Jenna warned her not to, the one dark secret that explained all of Richius’ moods and nightmares.

She had wished for a name and gotten it.

W
hat was the Dring Valley like?” asked Sabrina innocently.

The question shattered the day like a pane of glass. Richius drew back on Lightning’s reins, bringing his horse to a halt.

“What?” he asked incredulously.

Sabrina stopped her own horse, a chestnut mare only slightly larger than a pony, and casually tossed her hair over her shoulders. She was already growing easy in the saddle, looking more like Jenna by the moment in her borrowed breeches and riding boots. A beading of perspiration glistened on her cheeks and forehead. She threw him a smile.

“Why did you stop?” she asked. “I was doing well.”

Richius stared at her, waiting for her to repeat the remarkable question.

She reined the mare around to face him, pulling only the left rein the way he had taught her. He would have been proud of her had he not been so angry. The day had been going so well.

“What is it?” she asked. “Tell me.”

“I thought I’d made it clear to you, Sabrina. I don’t enjoy talking about Lucel-Lor. Why did you ask me about it just then?”

Sabrina shrugged. “I don’t know. The question just came to me. I’ve been thinking a lot about it lately.”

“About what?”

“The Dring Valley, Lucel-Lor, everything. I’m worried about you. Is that so bad?”

Richius shook his head. Jojustin was right; he had been neglecting her.

“I’m tired,” he said. “We should stop here and rest awhile. Hungry?”

“A bit,” answered Sabrina. She surveyed the surrounding woods. Along the narrow path were a number of grassy patches for them to settle down and enjoy the lunch Jenna had packed. Cautiously she guided her horse over to the largest clearing and called back to Richius. “How about here?”

“Fine with me,” said Richius. He dismounted and tethered Lightning to a nearby tree branch. “Let me help you down.”

“I can do it.”

“No, let me give you a hand.” He had spent almost an hour this morning showing her the finer points of mounting a horse, and was determined not to have his lesson spoiled by a broken ankle. Sabrina sighed but said nothing, waiting for him patiently as he dismounted and came over to her.

“Now remember what I told you. Hold both reins in your left hand and take your foot off the right stirrup.”

“I remember.”

“Easy,” said Richius, taking her waist in his hands. “Now swing your foot over her back. I’ve got you.”

“I’m fine.”

Sabrina slipped off the horse’s back into Richius’ waiting arms. He lowered her gently to the ground.

“Wonderful!” he declared proudly. “See? I knew you could do it.”

He gave her cheek a peck, then took the mare’s bridle, tying the horse to the same tree he had chosen for Lightning. Rummaging through his saddlebags he quickly found the bulging package of bread and cheese and cold pheasant they had brought to dine on. A bottle of brandy followed the food out of the bag. The liquor was a gift from Arkus, or more accurately from King Panos of Goss. True to his word the emperor had seen that the fine brandy was always available in the halls of Aramoor Castle.
A case of it arrived almost weekly. Lastly he went back to the mare and from its saddlebags extracted a tightly rolled woolen blanket. This he handed to Sabrina, who spread it carefully on the ground by the roadside. It was a perfect spring evening, a welcome respite from the prior rains, and Richius was glad for once to be with his wife. She looked cool and beautiful and alive with youthful vigor, and he silently thanked Jojustin for the idea of taking her out. It was long overdue.

“Isn’t this nice?” he said cheerfully, lowering himself cross-legged onto the blanket. He held out his hand for Sabrina and helped her down beside him. She gave him a curt little nod and started to unpack the food. He watched her as he dug a knife blade into the cork of the brandy bottle. She had been uncharacteristically quiet since he had returned from the House of Lotts last night. Hopefully this picnic would loosen her tongue.

She handed him a sturdy-looking glass from the package and he began to pour, first her glass then his own. Laying the bottle on the blanket, he raised his goblet.

“To you,” he said. “And to your excellent riding. I’m very impressed.”

Sabrina touched her glass to his. “Thank you,” she said stiffly. “You’re a very patient teacher.”

“It’s easy to be patient with such a good student. You did remarkably well. I didn’t expect it.”

“I was eager to learn,” said Sabrina. “I’d like to be able to get out of the castle more often.”

There was an unmistakable iciness to the words that made Richius lower his drink. “I’m sorry, Sabrina,” he said quickly. “I’ve been ignoring you, I know it. But I’ve been busy, you have to understand.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Richius,” she said. She tore off a great hunk of the bread and handed it to him. “I know you have a great deal to do right now.”

“Jenna and Jojustin said you’re upset with me. Are you?”

“How could I be?”

“You
have
been very quiet today.”

“Have I? I hadn’t noticed. I guess I was preoccupied with the ride.”

“Then you’re all right?”

“I’m adjusting,” said Sabrina. “It’s not easy for me when
you’re away, but I’ve been managing to keep myself occupied. I had a nice talk with Jenna yesterday. Did she tell you?”

Richius nodded. He was sure Jenna hadn’t told him everything.

“You were right about her,” Sabrina continued. “She’s wonderful. And she really thinks the world of you. She told me not to fret so much, that it’s just going to take me some time to get used to life here. I think she’s right.” She passed an ungainly portion of the pheasant to him. “Could you cut this for me?”

Richius took the bird and began slicing it into manageable portions, first the legs, then the wings and breast. And as he cut he studied her with furtive glances.

“I had to go yesterday, Sabrina. There were people I needed to see. It really couldn’t wait. You do understand, don’t you?”

“Yes, I understand,” she said sharply. “I told you in Nar; I don’t expect you to share everything with me. As long as it went well for you, I’m happy.” She paused long enough to take a bite of bread. “Did it go well yesterday?”

Richius sipped at his brandy. Yesterday had been a fiasco. “Yes,” he said finally. “Well enough.”

“Did you see this Dinadin fellow?”

“No,” said Richius. “He wasn’t there.” He shifted uneasily on the blanket, desperate to change the subject.

“Really? He went out on such a dreary day, too? How terribly extraordinary. Your trip was a waste, then?”

“Not entirely. I was able to speak to his father, tell him what the emperor has planned for us. That’s all I really wanted to do anyway.”

“Oh, then I must have misunderstood Patwin. He told me you were eager to see your friend. He said you had something to discuss with him.”

Richius felt his cheeks redden. What in the world was she asking him? And what in God’s name had Patwin told her? He had never told Sabrina about Dinadin. Dinadin was a link to Dyana, and that secret he had vowed never to disclose. Anxiously he swirled his glass of brandy, faking interest in its body.

“Nothing important,” he said. “He’s just a friend I haven’t seen for some time. I wanted to chat with him a bit, catch up on things.”

“And he wasn’t there to greet you?” pressed Sabrina. “Wasn’t he expecting you?”

“I didn’t tell them I was coming. Perhaps I should have, but I didn’t.”

And I didn’t expect him to run like a rabbit at the sight of me
, thought Richius resentfully.
Pigheaded fool.

“It seems a shame for you to have missed him. Why don’t you send word to him, have him come by the castle soon? I’d like to meet him.”

Richius’ patience snapped like a brittle branch. “What is this, Sabrina? Why this sudden interest in Dinadin? I told you, he’s nobody. Just a friend, that’s all.”

Sabrina drew back, visibly wounded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just trying to help.” She glanced down at her half-eaten cheese. “You’re right. I shouldn’t meddle in your business.”

“Don’t do this to me, Sabrina,” Richius said. “Forgive my snapping. It sounded like you were prying, that’s all. Really, what do you want to know?”

She shrugged. “Nothing particular. Whatever you want to tell me is fine. I just want to hear you talk. We don’t spend much time together and I like to know what’s happening with you.”

“You’ve got me concerned,” said Richius. “All day long you hardly uttered a word and now all these questions. Have I been neglecting you as long as that?”

She looked up at him. The sadness in her eyes spoke the answer. Richius sighed.

“It’ll be different now, I promise,” he began. “Things are starting to come along and I won’t be as needed as I have been. You’ll see. From now until I leave for Lucel-Lor I’ll spend some time with you every day.”

Sabrina nodded. “I’d like that.”

“Good. And we’ll start right now. Ask me anything you like. I promise, I won’t evade you.”

“No, that’s not it. I don’t want to pry.”

“But you’re curious, aren’t you? About the war, I mean?”

Again the innocent nod.

“Go on, then,” Richius coaxed. “Anything.”

Sabrina squared her shoulders and stared at him with utter seriousness. All at once, Richius regretted his bravado.

“Anything?” she whispered.

“Anything.”

“All right,” she said. “I want you to tell me about the Dring Valley.”

“The valley? But why—”

“You said anything.”

“I know, but there’s really nothing to tell. It was a horrible place I’m glad to be rid of. That’s pretty much the whole of it.”

“No, you’re not being honest. I want to know the truth about what happened there. I want to hear it from
you.
”

“The truth is ugly, Sabrina. It’s nothing for a lady to listen to.”

“Then you won’t tell me?”

“I will if you insist,” said Richius. His voice was already starting to lower, the way it always did when Dring came to mind. “But it’s not something I savor. If you’re expecting some glorious story, you’re going to be disappointed.”

“Were there really wolves there?”

Richius nodded.

“Patwin called them war wolves,” she went on. “He told me they were trained to kill.”

“Patwin’s being kind. They were trained to rip out our throats and leave us to bleed to death while they went after the next man. And they were trained to go after our cannoneers, so that we would be defenseless when the Drol warriors attacked. Did Patwin tell you any of that?”

Sabrina swallowed hard and shook her head.

“I didn’t think so. Let me tell you something about the Dring Valley, Sabrina. We weren’t men when we were there. We were food for Voris’ beasts. It was the first time in my life that I realized my body was made of meat.”

Sabrina looked away, pale and horrified.

“More?” he asked bitterly. “I have a hundred stories if you’re interested.”

“No,” said Sabrina breathlessly. “I’m sorry.”

But now it was Richius who was merciless. He leaned closer to her, whispering, “I could tell you about every man I lost there. I can name them all. Do you want to know how Lonal died? Or Kally? Jimsin had his neck chewed off by a wolf. Laren was decapitated—”

“Stop!” cried Sabrina desperately, putting her hands to her ears. “I don’t want to hear any more!”

Richius sat back. A horrid satisfaction washed over him. It
was like telling the old veterans of the Talistan war how sick he was of their tales. No one could know what he had gone through in Dring. At last he reached over to Sabrina and gave her leg a playful rub. She remained unmoving, her eyes fixed on the blanket beneath them.

“Do you see now why I never want to talk of it?” he asked. “It isn’t you, Sabrina. My stories aren’t fit for anyone’s ears.”

“Was there nothing good that came of it?” she asked. “Was all of it so bad?”

Richius considered the question, uncertain how to answer. “War brings out the best and the worst in men. I saw great courage in the valley, if that’s what you mean.”

“You had friends there, didn’t you? Friends other than Patwin and Dinadin?”

“Of course. There were many who became my friends.”

“Triin friends?”

“Sabrina, I don’t understand this,” said Richius. “What is it you really want to know? You’re leading me somewhere, but I don’t know how to follow. Tell me what’s bothering you.”