Artesans of Albia: 01 - King's Envoy (28 page)

Before the Major could stop her, she reached over and poured a very small measure into Sullyan’s cup.

The wary look in the Major’s eyes made Rienne break into giggles. “Go on,” she dared, “live dangerously. Stop being a major and just be a woman. That’s allowed, surely, when you’re off duty?”

The younger woman gazed at her in wonder; clearly no one had ever spoken to her like that before. She gave a tentative smile. “Do I have your permission in a medical capacity, Healer Arlen?”

“Absolutely,” laughed Rienne, raising her cup. “To living dangerously!”

Their cups chinked together and Sullyan sipped cautiously at the unfamiliar taste. A delighted expression came over her face. “This is delicious.”

Rienne found this inordinately funny and collapsed into breathless laughter. Sullyan watched her, smiling, while Rienne got herself back under control.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” said Rienne suddenly.

Sullyan sipped her fellan, savoring the heady flavor. “Yes, if you like.”

“How old are you? And don’t you have a first name? Maybe it’s a Manor tradition, but calling you Sullyan seems so formal.”

“Does it?” Rienne heard a rueful note in her voice. “Anyway, that is two questions.”

“Are you saying I’m being nosy? You don’t have to tell me.”

Sullyan dropped her gaze. “I have no reason not to answer you.” Diffidently, she said, “I am twenty-three. And it has nothing to do with the Manor, Sullyan is the only name I have.”

“Really?” Rienne was taken aback. There was an undercurrent to the Major’s tone that suggested she hold her tongue, but Rienne was more than slightly tipsy. “Surely everyone has a given name? And how on Earth do you get to be a major at only twenty-three?”

“You are very good at asking two questions at once,” sighed Sullyan, “and the answers are not necessarily straightforward. Perhaps I can best explain by telling you something of my life.”

Rienne leaned forward eagerly.

“But I would appreciate it if you do not repeat what you hear. A garrison is unlike any other community and it is not advisable to let everyone know your private business. As the only woman in the King’s forces, there are enough stories circulating about me. I do not want to add to them.”

“I won’t say anything,” said Rienne, suddenly contrite. “I didn’t mean to badger you, I’m only interested. Please don’t feel obliged to tell me.”

The Major waved off her apology. “I have no authority over you, Rienne. You are free to ask any question you choose. But where to begin? There are still a few people here who remember the events surrounding my arrival. General Blaine and Bull, of course, and one or two others. Robin has heard the story but I have never sat down with anyone else to talk about it. I have never had the opportunity before.”

She sounded wistful and Rienne suddenly pitied her. Life must be strange for such a young woman surrounded by only military men and duty. She picked up the liquor bottle and added a little more to their cups. Sullyan didn’t seem to notice.

Rienne asked, “Don’t you have any non-military friends?”

“The Manor is my home and its routine my life,” said Sullyan. “My company is my family and we rely on each other. Some of the men have wives and partners in the nearby villages but most of us do not have friends in the way that you mean. I suppose Robin and Bull are the nearest I have to friends, but Bull has served under me and is now a member of my staff. As for Robin, well, things are … complicated.”

“I’ll say,” said Rienne, a gleam in her eye. “If I had someone like him head over heels in love with me but under my command, I’d feel life was complicated, too.”

Sullyan flushed. “Yes, but it is complicated even further by the depth of my feelings for him.” She took another swallow of fellan, as if for comfort.

“I knew it!” crowed Rienne. “But how could you not want him? He’s so extremely handsome.”

“You think so, too?” Sullyan leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Sometimes, it is as much as I can do to keep my hands off him.”

Rienne’s eyes widened. “Off him? Are you telling me that you don’t … that you aren’t …?”

“No, Rienne.” Evidently embarrassed, Sullyan’s flush deepened. “How can we? I am his commanding officer, our relationship would never be the same again. I could never let personal feelings interfere with my duty.”

“Piffle,” said Rienne scornfully. “You can’t throw away what might be your only chance of happiness because of duty.”

She was shocked when tears appeared in Sullyan’s eyes. Immediately, she was sorry for goading the younger woman, for presuming to tell her how to run her life.

“Don’t listen to me,” she said. “My tongue isn’t usually this unruly. Your life is your own. I don’t understand the situation here so I’m not qualified to comment.” She glanced at Sullyan sidelong. “It is a pity, though, because he really is incredibly gorgeous.”

Sullyan sighed. “If I was going to lie with anyone,” she admitted, “I would lie with him.”

This insight into the Major’s personal life left Rienne feeling it would be better if she changed the subject. She returned to a previous question, sensing she would be on slightly safer ground.

“You were going to tell me how you got to be a major at only twenty-three.”

Smiling faintly over her cup Sullyan said, “I became a major at twenty.”

Rienne’s eyes popped. “Twenty? Good grief, did you do something seriously heroic?” Snagging the half-empty bottle of firewater, she splashed more liquor into their cups, not noticing the fellan was gone.

Sullyan laughed a bit breathlessly. “Maybe I should start at the beginning.”

Rienne cradled her cup in both hands and tucked her legs comfortably beneath her. The Major sipped unthinkingly from her own cup and spoke.

“I spent my early childhood in a village on the Downs, a few miles west of here. I was not born there. I was a foundling, left on some village woman’s doorstep. I was so young that I remember nothing of my origins, nothing of my parents. Were they too poor to keep me, or was I simply the result of a casual tumble in the hay? Are they even still alive? I have no way of knowing. The only things I have connecting me to my birth are these gems.”

She briefly touched the glinting stone around her neck, identical to the ones in her ears and on her finger.

“They are fire opals and extremely rare, they are not mined in Albia. But they gave me my name, for they were found around my neck in a small leather pouch with the word “Sullyan” stitched onto it. This was assumed to be my family name and is the only identity I have.”

She fell silent, her glorious eyes clouding. Before Rienne could speak, however, she continued, and her voice was a shade harder than before.

“My life on the Downs was not happy. I had no roots, no ties to its people. They were plain and simple folk with no wealth, so I was a burden to them. I cannot claim I was neglected or ill-treated, but there was never any love. I was always the stranger who did not belong.”

Rienne looked scandalized and Sullyan smiled gently.

“You must understand how they saw me, Rienne. Everything about me was different. The color of my hair, the color of my eyes, the way I spoke. These things set me apart and I cannot blame them for not being able to accept me.”

“But you were a child,” protested Rienne. “A baby.”

“And they raised me as best they could. It is long in the past now, Rienne. Long forgotten.”

Rienne said no more but she heard the regret. Heard, too, what could never be forgotten, despite the Major’s assurance—the echoes of an abandoned child’s unabating loneliness.

Sullyan continued to speak, sometimes swirling the contents of her cup, sometimes sipping from it, despite the fact that she didn’t drink alcohol. Rienne sat mesmerized, lulled by the lilting voice and the mellow glow of firelight in the comfortable room.

“As my Artesan powers began to emerge, I learned to use them first by trial and error. When the Downlanders learned what I was, I did not understand their mistrust, but I did learn to conceal what I could do. Then one day, quite by accident, I discovered how to cross the Veils, and soon I was spending more and more time away, exploring the other realms.”

She raised her eyes, allowing Rienne to see her candor.

“This is why I understand how bereft Taran was at the death of his father and the desperation that drove him to such extremes. I had no mentor at first and was fortunate to escape unscathed. Now I know the value of caution, but I am in no position to criticize Taran’s actions or vilify his mistakes.”

She dropped her eyes to her cup again, resuming the thread of her tale.

“When I was about ten years old, news of unrest reached the Downs. It was the beginning of the civil war and it sowed chaos among the lords. Each had to decide which faction to support, each sent men to uphold his chosen cause. This left large tracts of land, as well as villages and towns, undefended. The Andaryans had largely ceased their raiding by this time but the Relkorians, always quick to seize an opportunity, took advantage of the lords’ distraction and their forays into Albia increased. A band of them began plaguing the Downlands and the elders were forced to beg the Lord of the Downs for help.

“Relkorians are a cruel, fierce people, Rienne. Many of them are slavers who raid the other realms for captives, whom they sell to the owners of Relkor’s numerous quarries. I learned much about them from my travels through the Veils and even at that young age knew more about them than most Albians did.

“Eventually, the elders’ pleas were heard and a company of swordsmen was sent to deal with the raiders. I had seen Lordsmen before, of course, but never such a well-drilled, cohesive unit. They were different from the usual loose-knit band of young nobles. They were confident, obedient, ordered. I was fascinated, drawn by their aura of camaraderie and belonging, and by their synchronicity of purpose. These were things lacking in my own life and they appealed to me.

“Once they had scouted the area and discovered the raiders’ location, I followed them. I concealed myself as they made camp and watched as they began their preparations. I wanted to see how they dealt with the Relkorians’ ferocity.

“I soon discovered that although their commander was a competent leader who was well respected by his men, he was totally lacking in detailed knowledge of his opponent. I thought this was a fundamental mistake, for how can you fight what you do not understand? Even I knew the Relkorian scouts were aware of him, and I knew they would lay up their numbers in ambush.

“He did not know, so I decided to warn him. When it was dark, I slipped past the guards. I found the commander in his tent preparing his attack, and told him he would be leading his men into a trap.”

Rienne gasped. In her mind was a vivid picture of a slight, tawny-haired, ten-year-old girl effortlessly slipping past the sentries of a crack fighting company. She giggled at the audacity of it.

Sullyan continued quietly.

“He did not believe me, of course, and became quite unreasonable. He told one of his junior officers to confine me in a field tent and then led his men out. I could not let him walk into the trap without trying again, so I managed to convince my jailer I had fallen asleep. As soon as he took his eyes off me, I left the camp.

“I tracked the men easily, but I was too late. I was forced to hide and could only watch as all those brave young men were massacred in the ambush.”

Her eyes, which had been glowing warmly in the firelight, were now fully dilated, huge and black. She had taken hold of Rienne’s imagination and the healer could now see, hear and smell the ensuing battle. She heard the screams of the dying, smelled the acrid reek of spilled blood, and tasted the rank sweat of fear on her lips. Thoroughly caught up, she gave a great gasp as the little girl of her vision ran out in front of the badly wounded commander—the last man alive—and spread her small arms against the invading forces.