Dawnsinger (25 page)

Her bright eyes and pink cheeks proclaimed that marriage suited Katera. Arrayed in linens and silks in deep colors, perfumed and manicured, she had never appeared so beautiful—a rose in full bloom. By contrast, Shae felt herself a bedraggled waif. She could guess Katera would never cross rough lands with a makeshift band of protectors, go without food, or suffer an attack by waevens.

Katera looked her over in much the same manner as Aeleanor, causing heat to creep up Shae’s neck. “I hope your journey has not fatigued you unduly. I’m sorry my lord husband Enric cannot receive you. He joins forces with other loyal shraens against Freaer’s siege of Torindan.”

Kai tilted his head. “Tell me—how came he to learn of the siege?”

“A group of messengers escaped from Torindan ahead of the first attack. They didn’t spare themselves or their wingabeasts as they relayed news of the siege to the loyal shraens
of Faeraven.”

“That’s well then.” Kai sent Shae a look, and she read his thought. Craelin and Eathnor must have warned Elcon in time.

“I confess I’m surprised—but delighted—to see you both…and to meet your companions.” Katera eyed Dorann’s rough garb. “You will all stay for a visit, I hope.”

Kai cleared his throat. “We can stay but a few days.”

Katera lifted a delicate brow but said nothing.

“I’m sorry I missed your wedding.” Shae hated the halting way the words left her mouth. “I-it could not be helped.”

“Mother made your excuses.”

They dined well at Katera’s table as minstrels entertained them, and they would sleep that night in soft beds. Katera promised to supply their needs, but when she pressed him about their journey, Kai declined to explain, saying only that they traveled “east” at Elcon’s request.

Katera’s eyes widened. “There’s nothing out there save barren lands, ruins, and welkes.”

Kai’s words cut across Katera’s shudder. “And yet our course runs that way. Beyond that we cannot speak.”

“May Lof Yuel keep you.” Katera hesitated and seemed about to question her brother more, but then turned to Shae instead. “I’ve always envied you the adventures you find!”

Shae stared at her, understanding for the first time how appealing her own life must appear to someone who faced the boredom of long, golden days, melting one into another. She retrieved her voice in time to speak. “We must all accept our portion in this life.”

****

“His soul will ever travel in and out of darkness.” Praectal Caedric’s words fell like a knell. “I’m sorry.”

Kai gazed at Guaron’s sleeping figure. The wingabeast keeper looked as pale as death. “I don’t understand.”

Caedric motioned for Kai to follow him into the small outer chamber that held just enough room for hearth, bench, and table. Caedric turned to Kai. “What do you know of waeven bites?”

Kai shrugged. “Nothing.”

“I see.” Caedric’s brow creased, and he rubbed his chin.

Time stretched until Kai thought it would snap.
“But I do not!”
At Caedric’s look of surprise, he cautioned himself at least to silence, if not to patience. “I’m sorry.”

Caedric nodded. “I wish we knew more about waeven bites, but they happen so seldom. I can tell you such bites do not heal in the same manner as those of other beasts. While the physical injury repairs itself in time, a waeven bite inflicts damage to the soul—damage that never heals.”

Kai stilled. “Not ever?”

Caedric shook his head. “We know of no cure. Other victims describe sliding from our world at times into a place of terror.”

“Can we do nothing for him?”

Caedric sighed and shook his head. “We can watch to make sure he does not harm himself unawares. Beyond that, quiet surroundings will bring him a measure of peace.”

“He shall have them.”

Kai took his leave and searched for Shae. He found her seated on a velvet-cushioned strongwood bench before a crackling fire in her outer chamber. She looked demure in a long surcoat of white wool sashed with braided cloth of scarlet and her burnished hair plaited and falling over one shoulder. Katera had provided her with elegant chambers, resplendent with gilts and velvets in rich tones and deep, plush rugs against a backdrop of gleaming kaba wood.

He clasped her hands and returned her smile, wishing it could drive from his thoughts the place of terror Guaron visited. “I hate to tell you this, but we should leave tonight.”

Her smile faded, but she inclined her head. “You are right. We have need for haste. And yet, I wish we could stay longer and that we did not travel in a windstorm. Listen to its wailing!” She paused, and he listened with her to the rattle of the shutters behind the embroidered window hangings. The squall that howled outside had sprung from the east before morning and raged all day without abating.

He cocked an eyebrow. “I fear we will have difficulty submitting ourselves to the rigors of our journey after the comfort and plenty at Graelinn.”

“If it were only that!” Shae wrapped her arms about herself. “I find a different sort of comfort here. The feeling of being hunted has already left me, and I don’t relish its return.”

“How I wish we were quit of this business!” At Kai’s raised voice, the servant Katera had provided Shae, a gray-haired matron, lifted her head to peer at him from the bench nearest the window. Kai steadied himself, and the matron returned to her embroidery.

“As do I,” Shae rejoined with quiet intensity, “and yet, we must fulfill our duty.” She smiled then. “I resented it—not owning a temperament or a fate like Katera’s—but now I see the truth. We each answer a different calling.” Her voice softened. “What of Guaron?”

“He will live, by Lof Yuel’s grace.”
Guaron had done enough, suffered enough, lost enough.
“He will remain here with the wingabeasts until our return.” The words dropped into silence—
until our return.

“May it be thus,” Shae agreed, but she did not meet his eyes. “What troubles you?”

“How well you know me, Shae.”

Her smile tugged at his heart. “You’re not hard to read when you scowl like that. Tell me.”

“I have just learned of waeven bites and what they bring.”

“Guaron recovers, you said.”

He let out his breath. “His wound will heal.” He shook his head. “I blame myself! Had I not been certain safety lay within the walls of Braeth, he would not now suffer.”

“You couldn’t know what would happen.”

“True enough, but I might have guessed that a place with such a history would draw fell creatures to itself. I should have known, too, that a night spent in Paiad Burein could only bode ill. Aerlic has not been the same since our sojourn there.” He struck the palm of one hand with the fist of the other, causing Shae’s servant to stir again. “I continue to make decisions that put us in peril, and now Guaron will pay for my poor judgment for the rest of his life.”

“What do you mean?”

“A body can heal from a waeven’s bite, but its poison continues to fester within the soul.” He swallowed the lump in his throat and turned away. “Guaron dwells halfway in shadow.”

Her hand on his arm recalled him. “You cannot blame yourself for what the waeven did. Reproaching yourself changes nothing and only clouds your thinking.”

He pressed his lips together and slid a hand over hers. He should not add his own burdens to the ones she already carried. “You are right.” He gave her the words of comfort she needed. “Will you come with me to the stables?”

She nodded. “I should say goodbye to Ruescht.”

He took up a lanthorn from the mantle and lit it while Shae donned her cloak and whispered to her servant, who nodded and resumed her needlework. He stilled a twinge of conscience. Shae came alone with him without reproach only because others thought him her brother. He shouldn’t do anything that might compromise her, but he couldn’t deny himself the balm of her company.

Cold drafts accompanied them down darkened corridors and made the flames within the lanthorn he carried flutter and dance. Their shadows loomed tall before them, but in the next current shifted to fall behind.

Shae turned at the side door. “I wish we did not leave the wingabeasts.”

When he reached around her for the latch, the movement brought them close. “Indeed, it’s a blow to lose their speed, and already Brael Shadd stands above the horizon at dawn.”

The wind tore the door from his hands and a gust swept them, making the lanthorn flame sputter. He turned to shelter Shae, his own back to the brunt of the wind, and lowered his head to speak near her ear. He meant to urge her to stay close as they crossed the bailey, but she lifted her face as he lowered his, and words fled. Wonderingly, he touched her soft lips with his own. As she sighed, he groaned and slanted his lips across hers in a firmer demand. She leaned into him, and he gathered her closer to kiss her in earnest. As she yielded, the fury of the wind could not match the storm that raged between them.

The banging of the door brought Kai to his senses. Shae pulled away with a small cry. He lifted the lanthorn. Shae looked at him out of wounded eyes, the back of her hand pressed against her mouth.

He raked a hand through his hair and took a steadying breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that to happen.”

She nodded, and he caught the glint of tears.

“Shae, listen—”

She shook her head with violence.
“Please!
Let’s not speak of this.”

He went still while he fought the urge to comfort her in his arms. Instead, he inclined his head, accepting her choice. “Lean into the wind and stay close to me.” He wrenched open the door and raised his voice above the storm. “Don’t worry. I’ll not let harm come to you.”

****

Shae stepped into the howling wind and averted her face to breathe. Overhead, clouds raced across the moon. Kai secured the door, and then pulled her with him across the outer bailey. As they ran, the lanthorn guttered and flamed, making shadows leap.

They fetched against the stable, and Kai flung open its door. They hurried into a chamber filled with tack and saddles, and the wind cut away. They stood apart and silent, where before they might have clung together, laughing and warming themselves. Instead, Shae huddled in her cloak and tasted the salt of foolish tears. When she lifted her head, she met Kai’s darkened gaze. Despite herself, she could not look away.

Kai broke the contact and, raising the lanthorn, led her through a second door to a long corridor with stalls on either side. She wrinkled her nose at the sharp scents of hay and straw mingled with the musky smell of droppings.

Most of the wingabeasts
had settled for the night. Ruescht’s silver coat glinted midway down the stalls. At their approach, the little mare put her head up and whickered a greeting. Shae put a hand to the soft muzzle, and warmth blew against her palm. Tangling her fingers in Ruescht’s silken mane, Shae leaned her forehead against the wingabeast’s warm neck. “Goodbye, my friend.”

Shae stepped back and scrubbed at the tears on her cheeks. Kai’s hand touched her arm, but she could not find her way back to him—not now. Perhaps she never would. Ruescht’s luminous eyes glistened and her nostrils flared. She tossed her head. It seemed almost that the little wingabeast understood her distress.

They returned to the hold in silence. At her outer chamber door, Kai pressed the lanthorn into her hands with a curt nod. “Make your preparations. We will leave after we take food together in the hall.” He walked away without a backward glance

Shae hesitated at the latch, and then lifted the lanthorn and turned away from the door.

The Allerstaed waited in silence. She moved into the graystone and marble chamber, her footsteps eager. The lanthorn cast a warm glow before her. She set it down and knelt on the step below the altar, but tears, rather than prayers, found their release. She wept for the losses she’d suffered since Kai first summoned her from Whellein. She wept for Maeven and Eufemia, but also for the shift that would come to her relationship with Aeleanor and those she had called family. She wept most of all for the change between herself and Kai. But prayer at last replaced tears.

“I knew I would find you here.” Katera’s voice and footsteps echoed. “The others wait for you before breaking bread.”

She raised her head. She’d forgotten place and time.

“Do you sleep?” Katera asked on a rising note.

Shae pushed the hair out of her eyes. For the first time, she saw through the criticism that cloaked what Katera really asked. She spoke in a rush of sympathy. “Sometimes, when I pray, I find a deep place within that only Lof Yuel can touch.”

Katera sat beside her. “Can anyone find such a place? Can I?”

“I think it must be so.”

“I will pray Lof Yuel will keep you safe, then.”

Shae met Katera’s embrace, marveling that she felt more a sister to her now than she had when she’d thought them joined by blood.

Kai, Aerlic, and Dorann looked up when she entered the great hall. A late feast, prepared to send them on their way, had already begun. Despite little appetite, Shae ate all she could, for she would need strength to endure this night’s trials. After a brief greeting, Kai remained aloof. Heat rose to her face, and she looked away.

They made their goodbyes and ventured into the night. If anything, the wind blew more strongly now. She settled her elkskin satchel over her shoulders. Although it weighted her steps, it carried a share of food and water and the few personal oddments she’d allowed herself. The others bore the bulk of their supplies.

The moon, full and round and tinged with amber, rode high to light their way. Seeding grasses tossed before them like waves in the sea and then fell in their wake. The wind, when it shifted to blow with gentleness from the south, brought the clean scent of salt and the ripe odor of wet reeds from the great marsh of Weithein Fain.

They came upon remnants of the ancient road that had once connected Braeth to Pilaer. The hard-packed surface gleamed pale blue in the darkness, except where ruts cut by long-ago wagon wheels unfurled like twin ribbons. They made slow progress, for the road crumbled here and there into the marsh it skirted. Soft places made by burrowing rodents caved in beneath their feet. Undergrowth encroached and clung or stung as they passed. A rock rolled underfoot, and Shae gasped. Kai half-turned toward her. As she stumbled, she put out a hand to him but snatched it back. He hesitated, his expression unreadable in the darkness, and then turned away. He seemed as bent on ignoring her as she was on ignoring him. Where he might once have offered his hand to help her, he left her to struggle alone. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she wished she could let herself call him back.