VirtualWarrior (22 page)

“Ardra! What ails you? Such words for a woman!” Then Deleh
began to laugh. “I did not know you understood the necessity of having strong
steel in a sword.”

“Forgive me,” Ardra said, but she smiled. “I am not
completely ignorant, just weary.”

Deleh arranged another overgown for her. It was ivory to
match the underdress. Was it fortuitous that the gown had amber stitched along
the hem of the sleeves and neck in the pattern of the Shield?

As she laced the gown, she
realized
it was one that
opened in front, so a mother might nurture a child. It was a long time since
she had needed it, a long time since she had seen her son. He was hidden now,
with his nurse, who loved him quite as much as she.

Lien had no wish for babes.

She combed her hair again. She laced and unlaced her gown.
She found a flaw in her woolen hose and took them off, then put them on again,
tying the ribbons about her thighs. Last, she opened her pack and found a
sheath and long dagger that had belonged to Tol. The blade was plain as was the
hilt. She slipped it on the decorated belt that graced her waist and hips.

“Now, Ardra,” Lien called from the hall.

She whipped the door open.

His hand was raised in a fist. He lowered it slowly. Would
he challenge her right to wear the knife?

His gaze ran over her from her head to her waist, to the
dagger, and back to her face. “You look…ready.”

Cidre sat at the center of many long tables arranged in a T.
The head table was raised up on a dais. Samoht and Ralen flanked her. Einalem
sat next to her brother, Ardra between Ralen and Ollach.

Lien sat with the hoi polloi and Nilrem, too far away to be
a part of the head table’s conversation, but not far enough away from
Pointy-nose to avoid the joys of pilgrimming.

Ardra hardly touched the jellied eels or something Nilrem
raved about called the green goh. Goh looked like a plucked squirrel to Lien,
but it was pretty tasty. Then he realized the pilgrims were not eating the meat
and sighed. At least he could get in line with the spring water. It was clear,
cold, and had apple slices floating in it.

He stood up and stretched. He needed a long run and a
workout. What might a castle hold that he could use as free weights?

Pointy-nose (who had a name Lien couldn’t begin to
pronounce) tugged on his sleeve. “Lien, where are you going?”

The guests of honor were on the move. “Later,” he said and
pulled his arm away.

Cidre smiled at him when he sidled near the privileged few.
“Lien, are you leaving my feast? We have had but one course.”

Whoops
. “Uh, no, I just wanted to thank you for including
me.”

One by one, the men and women took their leave, then
returned in a few minutes. He hung around the table, making small talk. Ardra
dutifully took Deleh with her when she excused herself. Lien was glad Ollach
trailed her, for Samoht watched her every move.

Lien thought about inventing the flush toilet. A shower
would be nice, too.

One of Cidre’s guards, a man who had a damned fine set of
overdeveloped biceps and a leather jerkin cut to show them off, brought Cidre a
bowl of water in which she washed her fingers. She offered it to Lien, then
directed everyone to shift down so that he might sit at her side.

It was an honor Lien knew he must accept, no matter how much
his neck prickled.

Samoht never made eye contact, but Lien felt the animosity
hopping right over Cidre in his direction.

The next course arrived by draped cart. A huge pig sat on
it, apples and other fruit spilling out of its mouth.

“Ralen,” Lien said while he watched how each guest carved
his own portion of pork as the cart passed. “I want to make a request.”

“You are not eating?” Ralen asked.

“I’m skipping the meat.”

“What is it you want? Apple? Pear?” Ralen stabbed one of the
pears as the cart moved away and held it out to him.

Lien took the pear, though it didn’t look much like the ones
from home. “My request concerns Ardra.”

“Aye?”

“I’ve noticed that your men, or maybe they’re Tol’s men, are
growing disrespectful to Ardra. I don’t like it, and I’m hoping you’re going to
stop it.”

Ralen speared a slice of pork and ate it right off his
blade. He chewed a moment, then propped his elbows on the table.

“Let me understand you, Lien. You believe my men are not
giving Ardra the proper respect, am I correct?”

“That’s it. From what I’ve heard, she did a lot of good for
the Selaw people. For that she is
owed
respect. She was also your
brother’s lifemate, and for that,
you
owe her.”

Ralen nodded. “I agree. Look about. Can you point out any
specific men I might speak with first?”

Lien scanned the lower table. “Yeah. The tall one at the
very end. The man next to him, too.”

“Done.” Ralen lifted his goblet and signaled for more wine.
“I will not do it because you ask it. I will do it because I should have from
the start. If Ardra finds the vial, she will return to her fortress, and Tol’s
men will probably accompany her. I allowed my belief in the futility of her
task to sway me and set the men to other tasks. It was wrong.”

“You think she’ll find the vial?”

Ralen shook his head. “I still believe the task impossible,
but her determination is admirable. She has courage. Rare in a woman. Her son
will be strong.”

“What’s her son’s name?”

“Vad. He was named after a great man.”

Vad.
“Who was that?” But Lien knew who Vad was.
Gwen’s Vad was one man he could never live up to.

“Vad was a much-lauded Tolemac warrior who disappeared. ‘Tis
said he perished on the ice fields.”

Lien watched Ardra. Her every move was elegant. Had she and
Vad hooked up? Was Ardra’s child Vad’s son?

“How old is the boy?” he asked.

Ralen contemplated Ardra. The warrior was not as handsome as
the notorious Vad, but Lien didn’t know any women who’d kick him out of bed. He
had tied his thick, blond hair at his nape much like Vad wore his.

“I am not sure,” Ralen said. “Ask Ardra when her mating
ceremony took place. The boy was conceived at that time.”

So the child wasn’t Vad’s. Somehow Lien’s relief was as
troublesome as his jealousy.

Ralen interrupted Lien’s musings. “She is beautiful, is she
not?”

“Ardra?”

Ralen threw back his head and laughed. “Of course, Ardra.”

“Are you interested in Ardra?”

Ralen tapped the tip of his dagger on the table. “I have
greater ambitions, my friend.”

“Than Ardra? The Fortress of Ravens?”

“My ambitions will not take me to the ice fields.”

Cidre touched Lien’s hand. “You are neglecting me. Please,
tell me a bit about the land beyond the ice fields. I will wager they have
naught so grand as this.” She swept out her hands to encompass the feast.

Her fingertips were like nettles dragged across his skin.
“You’re right there,” he said, glancing at the hearth behind her.

“What about your family? Have you any brothers as strong as
you?” She ran her fingers up his biceps, and he stifled a groan.

She picked up her wine cup, and he took a shuddering breath
of relief. Her eyes, almost sapphire blue in the torchlight, looked like cold,
hard marbles.

“None. I have no family.”

“I am so sorry.” She licked her lips. When Ardra did it, his
insides went haywire. Cidre caused not even a blip on the old radar screen.

Her hair, a strange mix of silvery white and gold, reached
almost to her feet and right now was lying in a pool behind the bench like a
bridal veil. If her figure was as good as it looked in the drapy green robe she
was wearing, he would have latched onto her in an instant back home. But here,
each sweep of her fingers over his arm sent waves of irritation in its wake.
Why?

“I appreciate your concern,” he managed to say despite his
discomfort.

Samoht said something at Cidre’s ear, and she laughed and
looked away. The loss of her attention was like cool water on Lien’s skin. He
took the opportunity to turn back to Ralen and slide a few inches down the
bench away from the goddess.

“Look, Ralen, what’s with you and Einalem?”

Ralen smiled. “Does there have to be something between us?”

Lien wondered how personal he could get. A few grueling
miles on horseback didn’t exactly make them friends. “No, I suppose not.”

“Lien, you are far more interested in whether there is
something between Ardra and me.” He tore off a hunk of savory bread from a loaf
and offered it, which Lien noticed he did each time he started in on something
new to eat. Lien took the bread. It was coarse but excellent, warm and fragrant
with herbs. No sleeping ones, he hoped.

“Okay. Let’s suppose I want to know what’s between you and
Ardra. Would you tell me?”

Ralen nodded. “I have nothing to hide. When Tol became ill,
he often wrote to me on Ardra’s behalf. It was his wish that I lifemate with
her to protect her from Samoht.”

“Will you?” Lien looked Ralen over. Both he and Samoht were
Nordic mini-gods in their little world, but when you got to know the two, you
understood that Sam was slime. Ralen was icy, but he had honor.

“It will not be permitted,” Ralen said.

“That’s it? Someone won’t permit it, so you won’t?”

Ralen smiled. “Oh, if I wanted her, I would fight the
council, but in truth, she is not the woman for me. She is Selaw.”

Prejudice ran deep here.

Ralen’s smile became a frown. “Tol believed that if he set
an example by mating with a Selaw woman, more would do so. The more ties
between our people, the fewer hostilities. My brother was a dreamer. And
two-faced.”

“Really?”

“Aye. In truth, Ardra was never a lifemate in anything but
the law’s eyes. He mated with her for policy and peace. Their son will suffer
for it if a strong warrior does not stand at Ardra’s side.”

“You could be that strong warrior.” Saying the words was
like speaking past a huge stone in his throat.

“Not I. I have other plans,” Ralen continued.

“Which don’t include a Selaw mate.” Lien found the bread dry
in his mouth. Just what would become of Ardra after the eight days were up?

“Tol thought Ardra needed a man her age, but it will not be
me.”

“Or Samoht. He is already mated, isn’t he?”

“Aye. To a Selaw chief’s daughter.” Ralen eyed the young
woman who brought a dish of greens swimming in some fatty broth.

“So Selaw has chiefs too?”

The girl leaned her breast on Ralen’s arm as she spooned
some of the greens into a bowl for him.

“Aye. Too many. Unlike Tolemac, which has been organized for
many conjunctions into the council of eight, each chief in Selaw is a petty
tyrant who will not agree to anything with anyone. Ardra’s father was one such.
He ruled the Fortress of Ravens and caused all manner of ills for his people.”

Lien sipped at the broth and greens. It reminded him of a
thin spinach soup. It was smoky and delicious.

A hulking guard stood up and sang while folks took another
break. Lien figured the meal was going to last all night.

The singer was concert quality, although the song had a
strange cadence. It reminded him of something by the later Russian composers.
He missed music. He had really enjoyed driving Gwen up a wall with classical
music. She was a C&W kind of gal.

The song came to an end. The warriors banged their dagger
hilts on the long tables in approval. The next song was a bit ribald and
involved full breasts and soft thighs. Ardra, who was in deep conversation with
Nilrem, didn’t seem to notice.

A string of young women, all pretty enough to vie for Miss
Ocean City, brought out trays of pastries. Ralen cut one open with his dagger
and revealed apples and berries baked in what looked like a yellow pudding.

Lien decided it looked safe. While everyone forked up the
dessert, wine was poured. Then Samoht clanged his dagger blade on his metal
goblet, and everyone fell silent.

He lifted his cup. “I propose a tribute.” The guests leaped
to their feet, cups high. “To my lifernate,” Samoht said. “It is my pleasure to
announce she has proven herself by birthing a healthy daughter.”

Claps, cheers, and whistles filled the hall. Lien thought
Samoht might also be a bit drunk. His eyes looked mean and bleary as he
proposed another toast to prosperity and peace on the border.

Of course, it was his army on the border threatening the
peace, but no one remarked on that.

Ralen knocked the dull side of his blade on his goblet and
leaned near Lien. “It has taken him five days to finally make the announcement.
I suspect the news was behind his ill humor these last few days.”

“Really?”

“The child is a female. And he failed to impregnate his mate
at the mating ceremony. Always a matter of importance to a man.”

“So only a son will do?”

“Aye. Tol loved to boast that he got Ardra with child at the
ceremony and she birthed a son.”

The young woman with the large breasts and soup came by
again, and this time Ralen hooked her into his lap. That ended all hope Lien
had of knowing what went on at a mating ceremony.

He steeled himself to speak to Cidre, who was staring at
Samoht with wide eyes as if the jerk were saying something important. Old Sam
was rambling on about peace and ice.

“Cidre? Everything was great.” Lien indicated the remnants
of the meal.

“There is more.” She patted his hand, and his wrist flashed
hot.

“Really?” He lifted his goblet of water so she would remove
her hand.

“Here it comes.”

The cart was back. This time it held wheels of cheese. Some
of it was bright blue.

“I overheard you and Ralen discussing Ardra’s mating
ceremony.” Cidre offered Lien a slice of the blue cheese. He took a bite and it
reminded him of plain old cheddar.

“We don’t have mating ceremonies where I’m from, so I was
curious about how it works.”

She laughed. “It is not work, Lien. In fact, some find it
quite…stimulating. I will be happy to tell you about it, if you wish.”

“Please.” She did the lip-licking thing again. It was way
behind Ardra’s hair thing.

“‘Tis simple. A great person’s mating is of concern to many.
The child, if a male, will gain much and will be raised to rule. Such a
consummation cannot be left to chance.”

“Oh no?” He glanced at Ardra. She was sitting between Ollach
and Einalem now and looked none too happy about it.

“The consummation will not take place until the perfect
moment, the moment most likely to conceive a son.”

“How’s that determined?”

She pointed to the windows overhead. One of the moons was
just visible, on the rise. “It is a matter of the stars and moons and the
turning wheel of nature.”

Read, old wives’ tales
, Lien thought.

“It is considered great good luck for both father and son if
the babe is conceived at the first consummation. The stars are consulted, the
old women. It is a very precise matter.”

“I see. So you get told, tonight’s the night.”

Cidre giggled like a small child. “Precisely. Of course, we
here in the Tangled Wood care little for sons. It is a daughter to whom we pass
our wisdom.”