C. Dale Brittain (13 page)

“But if they don’t know very much,” he said slowly, “then why do we burn offerings to them?”

Karin stared at him with eyes that had become enormous.
 
“I shall burn no more offerings.”

“Maybe it’s better like this,” declared Valmar suddenly.
 
“We shall ask nothing else of voima, but make our lives into the best tale that fate allows us, with our own strength and honor and our own manhood—or, in your case, womanhood.”
 
He sat up tall and stiff in the saddle as he spoke.

“But if we decide to ignore the lords of voima,” said Karin quietly, “we cannot forget that
someone
has taken Roric.”

King Hadros met them as they reached the meadow that circled the castle.
 
He stood with his massive fists on his hips, scowling, but he did not speak at once, instead taking in his flushed son and Karin, her clothes all disordered, clinging desperately to the reins as though afraid any moment she would slide from the saddle.

Valmar observed what looked like several very different comments rise to his father’s lips and fade away again.
 
Finally he said in a low growl, “I had taught you more honor than this, son.”

Karin tried to pull herself straighter, then gave up and slid from the horse.
 
She winced as her bare feet touched the ground; they had been too swollen for her slippers.
 
Valmar immediately dismounted in case she needed support, but she remained standing.
 
“Your son behaved himself in perfect honor,” she said slowly, staring straight at the king.
 
“He helped me and assisted me.
 
Everything I asked he performed.”

And then, completely unexpectedly, Hadros smiled.
 
“Well, you have changed your opinions quickly enough, little princess,” he said gruffly, but he sounded almost pleased.
 
He gave Valmar a slap on the back that staggered him.
 
“It is not what I would have recommended, but it may be for the best …”

Valmar, shocked, tried to deny what his father seemed to have assumed and found himself only sputtering.
 
He stole a glance at Karin.
 
There was the slightest amused twitch at the corner of her mouth.

“I told your father that after a tiring day of riding and exploring with Valmar you were spending the night in my tents,” said Hadros to Karin.
 
“He seemed disturbed that you were not in the castle at the end of the day’s Gemot—nearly as disturbed as I was to find my son missing!
 
But it seemed best not to reopen the war at the All-Gemot.”
 
He smiled a little.
 
“Shall I speak to him today of your portion?”

“No,” said Karin, weakly but determinedly, her eyes cast down.
 
“Not today.
 
Not until I tell you.
 
Valmar is, after all, not yet of age.”

“He has my permission, of course,” said Hadros slowly.
 
“Did you hope to hide from your father this shame until you are well wed?”

“I hope to hide this from
everybody,”
she said on the brink of tears.
 
But then she pulled herself together with a visible effort, took the reins of both horses, and walked up toward the castle, leaving Hadros and his son looking after her.

Then the king turned, striding toward the corded circle where the Fifty Kings were gathering for the day’s decisions, taking Valmar with him.

He was still trying to work out why his father, whom he had expected to be livid at the shame of his having ridden off with Karin and not come back all night, instead seemed delighted at the thought of what might have taken place.
 
Karin had misled Hadros deliberately, as though she had suddenly decided she wanted to marry Valmar.
 
If he could see his big sister again before the All-Gemot finished, maybe she would let him know what she really intended.

In the meantime he remained silent as they walked, wishing himself invisible, but it still seemed, inexplicably, as though his father was pleased with him.

3

King Kardan was sitting on the side of Karin’s bed when she awoke.
 
She sat up, pulling the sheet around her shoulders, and glanced toward the window.
 
She still felt exhausted, almost as though she had been beaten, but from the angle of the sun she had slept the entire day.

“Is the All-Gemot finished?” she asked.

“There are still two more days of deliberations, but we have finished the most important business.”
 
He smiled and patted her hand.
 
“I can understand why you would be loath to part from the people with whom you have spent the last ten years—especially since, I can see now, you have even become friends with them.
 
I can even see why you would want to reacquaint yourself with your kingdom by taking a long ride with Hadros’s heir.
 
Perhaps I was too quick to assume you would be as happy to be home as I am to have you.
 
There has not been a day since you left, Karin, that I have not thought of you.
 
But I do wish you had told me you intended to stay with Hadros last night, so I had not worried.”

“Suppose—
 
Suppose I told you I had met a Wanderer last night.”
 
She spoke quietly, looking down, wondering how likely he was to believe her.
 
She no longer felt she knew this man, and yet they had to learn to trust each other again.

“I would say I had not heard a story like that from you since—well, since you went away!”
 
He tapped her lightly on the cheek.
 
“Do not tell me they still believe in those little upcountry northern kingdoms that the Wanderers appear to ordinary mortals.
 
And in the meantime,” with a smile, “could you warn me if you decide again to take a long ride with your friends?”

“It shall not happen again.”
 
She looked him over, her head cocked at an angle.
 
Gray hair, certainly, and somewhat of a paunch, but he appeared no more ready to die or to step down from the throne than did King Hadros.
 
She might not become sovereign queen until many more years had passed.
 
“It has been a strain,” she added apologetically, “learning about my brother, the journey here—
 
But I shall come down to dinner.
 
Do you think you could invite Queen Arane to the castle this evening?”

She sat with the queen on a window seat—the same place, in fact, where she had talked to Valmar the day before.
 
Karin saw her childish book of old tales still lying there and quickly tucked it under a cushion.
 
As Arane settled herself gracefully, Karin thought that she did not quite trust those wise eyes.
 
The queen was ready to give advice, probably extremely good advice, but she would not help anyone else for a second if it stood in the way of her own plans.

But here Karin did not think her affairs would collide with the queen’s.
 
“I need your counsel,” she said in low voice.
 
“I may be forced into a marriage for which I am not ready.”

The queen lifted her eyebrows.
 
“Two days ago you told me you did not think to marry soon.”

“And I still hope I shall not.
 
But yesterday Valmar, King Hadros’s heir, and I went up the valley for a picnic, and we did not come home last night.”

“Who knows this?” asked Arane sharply.

Karin glanced quickly across the room, but there was no one within earshot.
 
“No one knows.
 
Or no one here.
 
King Hadros does.”

“This is not the story you want told around the Gemot of the Fifty Kings, Karin!” said the queen with a mocking smile.
 
“Could you not have been more discreet?
 
If your father and Hadros cannot come to an agreement, your lover will at the worst be declared an outlaw for raping a highborn woman, and you at the best will start your rule with a reputation for wantonness.
 
Not that you must always sleep alone!” raising a hand to forestall what she seemed to think was Karin’s objection.
 
“But leave it all a guess for slanderous tongues, never sure knowledge.”

“You don’t understand,” said Karin, able to find a space for her own words at last.
 
“Valmar and I could not have had purer relations if we had slept with a sword between us.
 
We are to each other as brother and sister, and for all I know he is a virgin still.”

“And you are not,” said Arane, as though pleased with this discovery.

Karin had not meant to let that slip, but it was not important now.
 
“But I fear that no one will believe us.
 
My father and Hadros have only just concluded their hostilities toward each other.
 
I did, I think, persuade Hadros that his son had not taken me by force, but he still thinks he took me willingly.
 
And my father will not be concerned with such niceties.”

“So what would you have me advise you?”

“How to avoid marrying Valmar while keeping my honor intact.”

Queen Arane shook her head as though hard put to believe Karin’s naïveté, then smiled and settled herself, preparing to map a battle strategy.
 
“Do you have any men you could trust?
 
Someone who could arrange for the boy to have a small accident?
 
You need not harm him permanently or even badly, but a certain kind of wound, you understand, would mean the wedding would at least be postponed …”

“No!”
 
Karin started to jump up, then remembered herself and sank again to the cushions.
 
“I have no men of my own, none I could trust with a mission this delicate.
 
And also,” she added defiantly, “I would certainly not wish such a wound on Valmar.”

“You need to acquire some trusty warriors as soon as you may,” said Arane thoughtfully.
 
“Or perhaps, if you are squeamish, you could arrange for Valmar merely to be threatened.
 
Does he have a rival for your affections, someone who would at a word from you make threats against the boy to frighten him away?
 
Then Hadros’s wrath would turn against his son rather than against you.
 
His temper is swift, as I know well, but he can also think clearly once his fury is past.
 
If Valmar himself shrank from the marriage, it would be in Hadros’s own self-interest to keep this matter quiet.”

Karin shook her head.
 
“The only rival Valmar has for my affections is gone, and I do not know where he is.”
 
She was certainly not going to tell the queen that Roric had left with someone awe-inspiring and terrifying, who still was not, it seemed, one of the Wanderers.
 
But she did wonder if King Hadros would be content to hush this whole affair up if Valmar himself did not want to marry her, or if his rage against his heir would become murderous as it apparently had against Roric.

Queen Arane was silent for a moment, looking out the window at the twilight, a small smile on her lips.
 
“What does young Valmar think of this?”

“He has had no idea, I think, that we might marry.
 
As I said, we are to each other brother and sister.”

“So Hadros is your principal opponent here.
 
He will take it as an insult to
his
honor, I judge, if you flatly refuse to take his son, especially in these circumstances.”
 
She turned a jeweled ring thoughtfully on her finger.
 
“Before you reject this marriage utterly, be certain there are not reasons why it would be beneficial.
 
A young and malleable husband offers certain advantages, even if the advantages do not compare with those of being single.”
 
The queen reached out to turn Karin’s face toward her.
 
“For example—are you quite sure that you are not with child?”