Two to Conquer (40 page)

Only Bard would never believe that while Paul lived he could be safe. Perhaps he should make Carlina his ally at once; he’d never thought he’d stoop to making friends with a woman! Women were for one thing, and one thing
only
. But that wasn’t how he felt about Melisendra. Somehow she had become his friend, too.

A crackle of bushes and steps on the path recalled him to his danger, and he slid into the shadow of the shrubbery again. Three women were coming along the path, and Paul, peering out, saw that one of

them was Carlina.

She was pale and thin, and so small that she came barely up to his chest. Her hair was tied back into a long braid. She moved with the same calm, detached walk as the other priestesses, and her shapeless dress made her look clumsy. Paul stared from concealment, in shock. This—
this
was the Princess Carlina, the woman with whom Bard was so obsessed that he could think of nothing and no one else?

And for this he would give up the beautiful ripeness of Melisendra, who was, moreover, the mother of his son? Melisendra was also beautiful, witty, intelligent, schooled in
laran
, and possessed of all the graces to adorn a court and become a queen, or at least a general’s lady; and she had fought at Bard’s side in battle. Paul had thought that he knew Bard well, but now he was shaken to the core by the knowledge that the differences lay deeper than he could have imagined.

But Bard did
not
want her, Paul thought as he watched Carlina moving away. He couldn’t. He
knew
what Bard wanted. He had wanted Melisendra, till she had wounded his pride unendurably. He had

wanted the round-bodied little wench they had shared after the battle. Want Carlina? Never.

He was
obsessed
with Carlina, and that was a different thing. As if Bard had told him so, he knew that what Bard wanted of Carlina was that she was King Ardrin’s daughter, the reassurance that he was the king’s lawful son-in-law, not an exiled outlaw desperately trying to reclaim some position, some identity.

All the more reason
, Paul thought,
that I should make Carlina my ally at once
…
and yet, I could never
give up Melisendra for this. Madness! Melisendra would even make a better queen.

And yet, if Bard has Carlina, he will not contest with me for Melisendra
.…

I must make sure, then, that Carlina is delivered into Bard’s hands, and as quickly as possible. And
about one thing, at least, I need not worry. It will be easy for me to keep my hands off her. I would not
have her in my bed, not if she were thirty times over a queen
.

A dynastic marriage with Carlina would give Bard—or Paul in his place—a claim of his own to the

throne, if the sickly Alaric died childless—which seemed likely. Well, then, the throne and Carlina for Bard. And for Paul—freedom and Melisendra! Bard would never feel safe while he was alive— but if he could manage to get away, preferably as soon as possible, then perhaps Bard would be too busy holding his throne to send after them. But first, Bard must have Carlina.

The priestesses had gone along the path, and Paul stole after them, keeping in the shadows. First one, then another went into small houses at the side of the path. Carlina turned into one, and after a moment, inside, he saw the tiny glow of a lamp. Paul hid to consider. Not that he was really afraid of the women.

But there were a lot of them, and they had those wicked little knives.

Carlina must be given no time to make an outcry. Not even a mental one. There were sure to be other telepaths in this place. Which meant—he considered it coldly—that he must knock her down and

render her completely unconscious with one blow before she saw him or was alarmed at the idea of an intruder. And he must have her well away from the island before she saw his face.

He slipped noiselessly through the door. Humming a tune to herself, she stood trimming the tiny wick of the little lamp. Then she took off her black mantle, hung it over a rod, and reached up to unfasten her braids. He did not want to wait while she undressed; in this cold he could not take her far without clothing, and he knew he could not put clothes back on her limp body. He slid from his place of

concealment and struck one hard blow, watching her crumple soundlessly to the floor. He was shocked, unaccustomed as yet to what little
laran
he had, to the sudden
nothingness
where, a moment ago, there had been a presence. Suddenly afraid, he bent to reassure himself that she was breathing. She was. He bundled her limp body into the black cloak, wadding a couple of extra folds over her nose and mouth.

She could breathe, but the cloak would stifle any outcry, though, if she woke and felt fear, the alarm would be out and the hunt up within moments. He carried her out, kicked the door shut behind him.

Now came the one real risk of the whole performance. If someone should see him now, he would

probably never get off the island alive. He carried her swiftly down the path to the boat and hauled it over. Half an hour later he was riding away from the Island of Silence, Carlina’s limp body trussed across the back of his pack beast. He had made her as comfortable as he could, but he wanted to put as much distance as possible between himself and the island, as quickly as he could. With luck, they might not miss her till morning; and he had seen no riding horses on the island at all. But sooner or later she would recover consciousness and make some form of telepathic outcry. And he wanted to be far

enough away, by then, so that it would make no difference.

She seemed still unconscious when he reached the place in the hills where he had left the escort. His men were ready saddled, with a horse-litter standing by.

He motioned to them. “Mount and get ready to ride. Have you got a fresh horse for me? Yes, and extra horses for the litter, so we won’t have to stop anywhere for post horses.” He dismounted, lifted the unconscious bundle that was Carlina into the litter, and closed the curtains.

“Let’s go!”

The sun was rising when they stopped to breathe the horses. Paul dismounted, swallowed a bit of food

—there was no time to stop and cook a meal—then went and thrust aside the curtains of the litter.

Carlina was conscious. She had gotten the gag out of her mouth. She was lying on her side, silently and desperately struggling to tear loose the knots around her hands.

“Do they hurt you, my lady? I will loosen them if you like,” Paul said.

At the sound of his voice she shrank away.

“Bard,” she said. “I should have known it was you. Who else would be impious enough to brave the wrath of Avarra!”

“I do not fear any Goddess,” he said truthfully.

“That I can well believe, Bard mac Fianna. But you will not dare her with impunity.”

“As for that,” Paul said, “I do not intend to debate the matter. Your Goddess, if she exists, did not intervene to protect you from being taken from the island. And I do not think she will protect you now.

If the thought that she will punish me comforts you, I do not begrudge you that comfort. I came only to say that if you are weary of those bonds, I will loosen them; you need only give me your word of honor not to escape.”

She glared at him with implacable defiance. “I will certainly escape if I can.”

Damn the woman
, Paul thought with exasperation,
doesn’t she know when she’s beaten
? With an unfamiliar feeling he did not recognize as guilt, he realized that he did not want to hurt her, or even to tie her up more tightly. With a curse, he thrust the curtains together and strode away.

Chapter Five

Bard had had another unwelcome piece of news as he rode back toward Castle Asturias: his second-in-command had come to him and told him that three days after the battle all the mercenaries of the Sisterhood of the Sword had come to the officer, demanded what pay was owing to them, and left the camp.

Bard stared. “I paid them generously, and what is more, I put them under my personal protection,” he said in outrage. “Did they give any reason?”

“Yes. They said that your men had raped the women prisoners of war, and you had not punished them,”

the officer said. “To tell you the truth, Lord General, I think we’re well rid of them. There is something about them that makes me uneasy. They’re—” he hesitated, thought it over a minute, and said,

“obsessed, that’s what it is. Tell you what, my lord, you remember when we rode against the Island of Silence, and that old witch there who cursed us? Those damned Sword Sisters make me think of
her
, them and their Goddess!”

Bard scowled. Mention of the Island of Silence made him realize that Paul should have returned by now. Unless the curse of the island, and of Avarra had caught Paul too. His officer misread the scowl and thought he was angry at having that defeat mentioned; he stared uneasily at the floor. “I never thought a batch of women would drive us off that way, Lord General. They’re all mad there, them and their Goddess alike, see? It’s unlucky to have anything to do with them, and if you’ll take my advice, sir, you won’t have anything to do with the Sisterhood either. Did you know? They ransomed the

prisoners of war, the women of the Sisterhood, that is, and took them along with them. They said they ought to have known they were both fighting on the same side, they ought never to have taken up arms against their sisters—some rubbish like that. Crazy, they are, sir. Glad to see them gone.”

“They didn’t kill the prisoners themselves? I heard that if a woman of the Sisterhood is raped her sisters hunt her down and kill her if she doesn’t kill herself.”

“Kill them? No, sir, the guards heard them all crying together in the tents. And they gave them back their weapons and put decent clothes on ’em—the soldiers tore their own clothes off, you remember—

and gave them horses, and they all rode off together. I tell you, you can’t trust women like that, no sense of loyalty, see?”

When he arrived at Castle Asturias, he sent word to his father and to his brother, King Alaric, that he had arrived, and as he gave his horse to the grooms, he noticed the horse Paul had ridden to the Lake of Silence standing in the yard. He went in, hurrying to the presence chamber. His father met and

embraced him, and Alaric hobbled toward him, holding him in a kinsman’s embrace.

“Bard, your lady is here. The Princess Carlina.”

He had known this, but he was surprised to hear that Alaric and his father knew.

“She is?” he asked numbly.

“She came in a horse-litter a little while ago; your paxman Paolo Harryl escorted her here,” Alaric said.

“But I still think you should marry Melisendra, Bard. Erlend’s too good a son to you to be a
nedestro
.

When I am crowned king, I shall give him a patent of legitimacy. Then he will be your son whether you marry Melisendra or not!”

“She is in her old rooms?”

“What else,” Alaric said, staring. “I gave orders she should be taken to them and should have women to wait on her and bathe her and so forth. She had been riding all day in a horse-litter, she must have been tired and dirty.”

Was it possible, Bard wondered, that Carlina had come willingly?

Alaric went on, “Paolo said she was too tired and too travel-worn to see anyone, but that I should send waiting-women to look after her. She is King Ardrin’s daughter, and your wife. When you have the
catenas
ceremony, I will perform it, if you wish, it is supposed to be an honor if the king performs the wedding.”

Bard thanked his brother and asked leave to withdraw. Alaric’s smile was childish.

“You don’t have to ask me, Bard. I keep forgetting I’m the king and have to give people permission to go and come, even Father, isn’t it foolish?”

He had been assigned rooms near Carlina’s old rooms. When he came into them, Paul was waiting for him.

“I gather,” Bard said dryly, “that you had success on your mission. Did she come willingly?”

Paul shook his head ruefully, indicating a long scratch on his cheek. “The first night I was unwise enough to let her go—to loosen her bonds for a few minutes so that she could relieve herself. That was the only time I made
that
mistake. Fortunately, none of the men were from Asturias, or knew who the lady was. They were all mercenaries from Hammerfell and Aldaran, and most of them couldn’t speak her language. But when she saw where I had brought her—to her own home—she gave me her word of

honor not to try to escape tonight. I thought it would be too humiliating for the lady to come into her own home tied hand and foot like a sack of washing, so I accepted it. And the king sent ladies to wait on her. I imagine you’ll find her pretty tame—I didn’t touch her, except when I had to knock her out

———I didn’t put a hand on her until she scratched me. Even then, I just bundled her up like a sack of beans and dumped her back into the litter. No more force than absolutely necessary, I promise you that.”

“Oh, I believe you,” Bard said. “So where is she now?”

“In her own rooms; and by tomorrow, I suppose, you can talk her out of wanting to go, or put a guard on her yourself,” Paul said. He wondered if it was the right time to talk about Melisendra to Bard, and decided it probably wasn’t.

Bard went and called his body servant, had himself shaved and dressed. He’d give Carlina a little time to rest from the long arduous journey, and make herself pretty. He was hoping against hope that Carlina would welcome him, resigned to their marriage. Of course she had struggled when she was abducted, but when she found herself in her own home, she had been willing to give her parole. Surely, that meant she knew she had nothing to fear. Certainly, Carlie knew he wouldn’t hurt a hair of her head.

After all, she was his wife, by all the laws of the gods and of the Hundred Kingdoms!

A guard before her door came to attention as Bard approached, and Bard, returning the man’s salute, wondered if Paul had doubted the validity of Carlina’s parole. But why? Probably Carlina, being