Mirror 04 The Way Between the Worlds (29 page)

almost went over the side.
Hanging on with one hand, she wrenched the sideboard open and let the contents
spill out: wooden crates containing wine in flasks, jugs of honey and jars of
preserves.
The driver lashed at Karan, catching her painfully on the shoulder. 'You're
ruining me!' he screamed.
Karan ran around the back, leaping across the planks. 'Help, Tallia!' she
shouted.
Tallia released the tailgate, the driver belabouring her with the whip all the
while. The mare reared again, skidded and fell down between the middle and
side planks. The wagon tipped up on its front end, and the contents rained
down through the gaps. The horse hung from the harness, kicking and screaming,
then the straps broke and it plummeted head first into the river.
Karan looked stricken, but the mare reappeared a long way downstream,
struggled up onto the bank and limped off to the south. The wagon crashed back
down again, tearing the plank out, nails and all, and fell into the
scaffolding. It hung there as the last crates slid out, smashed open on the
timbers and plopped into the water.
All was silent but for the wailing of the wagon driver. 'You've ruined me. My
wife will repudiate me.' He looked up at Karan and Tallia. 'I'll sue you for
every grint you've got!'
Karan looked disgusted. 'Sue and be damned!' she snapped, and crossed over by
the further plank. The man lay down with the whip wrapped around his fist, and
banged his head on the timbers over and again.
Karan had no pass. She had thrown it away long ago. That delayed them at the
gate, and she was hard put to restrain herself from abusing the guards, but
Tallia's face was enough to get them through. Karan was issued with temporary
papers and they were waved on into the city.
They proceeded up the road to Yggur's headquarters, an old fortress high on
the hill above the citadel. There they learned that Yggur had disappeared that
day, without word to anyone. Shand was gone as well. 'Is Llian here?' she
screamed at the guard. Mud-spattered from head to foot, she looked like a
refugee from the wars.
The fellow drew himself up, directing his answer to Tallia. 'I believe he was
held at the citadel,' he said coolly.
'Was held?' Karan cried, and set off at a run.
'Karan, wait,' yelled Tallia. 'You just can't . . .' but Karan wasn't
listening. Tallia limped after her.
It was not far to the citadel, and all downhill. Tallia had no hope of
catching Karan. By the time she hobbled round the corner, with the massive
walls towering above, the towers looking more watchful than usual, Karan was
already racing up to the gates.
The iron gates stood open, a signal to Thurkad that the Magister was in
control of his city. A pair of splendid guards lounged on either side in their
peacock uniforms andbrilliantly polished boots, though one had a yellow egg
stain down the front of his coat. Karan darted in, skidded towards the guard
on the right; as he raised his pike she abruptly changed direction, shot
between them and hurtled across the yard for the front door.
The guard at the rear swore, 'He'll have our heads for this!' and raised his
spear.
Tallia shouted, 'Hold it!' with all the authority she could muster. The guard
turned at the familiar voice but, thinking that Tallia was also after Karan,
hurled the spear.
It struck the door by Karan's shoulder. She looked back and the swinging door
knocked her off her feet. She lay on the
mossy flagstones, winded, watching the second guard hoist his spear. There was
nothing she could do about it. As the guard's arm flashed forward Tallia swung
her fist and knocked him unconscious.
Karan darted down the side of the citadel and in through a rear door. She
slipped past a dozing guard, down a cross-passage, twisted the other way at

the next junction and again at the one after. A stair appeared before her,
leading both up and down.
She took the downward passage, trying to walk calmly down the stairs as if
nothing had happened. It would not have fooled the most casual observer, for
she was dripping with sweat, her face almost as red as her wild hair. Karan
knew the way to the lower dungeons, having visited Llian there at the
beginning of winter. She prayed that he had not been put in that desperate
hole again. Further down it was darker and her appearance would have excited
less attention, had there been anyone to see it. There were quite a few
prisoners in the cells but she did not come to a guard until the lower level.
The fellow warned her off, though not before Karan had determined that Llian
was not here. She ran up to the next level, scanned it, and the one after. Not
there either. She was back on the ground floor, the one below the main
entrance. Here were the offices of the citadel - bursar, bailiffs, clerks by
the score. Nothing! Down the other way were kitchens and storerooms. He
wouldn't be there. Karan couldn't think of anywhere else to look. She felt
sure that Llian had been tried, convicted and executed.
She wandered slowly along, feeling utterly miserable. 'Hoy, you!' a huge guard
shouted at her from the other end of the corridor. The sound of great flat
feet echoed in the hall.
Karan darted around a corner and found another hall lined with offices.
Passing one whose door was open, she leapt through, slammed it behind, ran
backwards without looking and crashed into someone. Someone tall and
incredibly strong, with cold fingers and rubbery skin that made her flesh
crawl.
Twisting round, she looked up at the face of Vartila the Whelm and almost
passed out. Vartila looked almost as shocked. Another Whelm stood just beyond
the door.
Then, astonishingly, before she had time to wonder what Whelm guards were
doing in the citadel, Vartila released her. No wonder - there was nowhere to
go. The shouting grew louder; she heard great bangings all the way up the
corridor.
Karan pushed into the other room, needing to sit down. Her knees were weak.
She looked around, and there, across the other side of the room, appearing
utterly bemused as the door burst open and guards stormed in waving weapons,
was Llian. He was sitting at a table with books and papers spread out in front
of him. Her heart skipped a beat. Mustering all the dignity she could manage
she walked quickly across and sat down beside him on the bench.
'Don't say anything,' she said. Their hands clasped under the table. They both
stared imperiously at the guards.
'Not a word,' he replied, squeezing her hand. The two Whelm folded their arms
and stood directly in the doorway, preventing access. Mendark scowled, and his
scowl became deeper when he saw who it was, but the Whelm would not even allow
the Magister to pass. They had their orders.
'Only this,' Llian continued amiably. 'And you dared call my rescue clumsy!'
Karan threw her arms around him and kissed him on the mouth, smearing his face
with mud. Then, long before he was ready for the dream to stop, she stood up
and led him across the room. As they passed by she glanced up at Vartila and
raised an eyebrow. Vartila nodded. Karan continued on. She stood before
Mendark. Llian's hand jerked in hers. Her green eyes met Mendark's. The whole
room went still. Even Tallia, who had followed him in and was standing at the
back, gave a shiver.
There would be no confrontation this time. Mendark gave an ironic little
twitch of the lips. Even Vartila was smiling, a sight no one had ever seen.
'There will be no trial,' Karan said. 'Llian has done nothing wrong and you
cannot hold him any longer.'
'No trial for Llian!' said Mendark. 'Tallia has cleared him. But you are a
different matter. Don't leave Thurkad, Karan.'
He stepped aside and Karan went by. Llian followed, recently off his crutches
and limping badly. Vartila came after with her fellow Whelm, carrying Llian's

books and papers in their arms.
Tallia strode up from behind. 'You can take care of yourselves now? You don't
need me?' She sounded anxious.
'Thank you, Tallia,' said Llian. 'I wish you well with your lover.'
She went red, then rushed off.
'Where are we going?' Karan asked.
'To the master's fortress,' rasped Vartila. 'My orders are to guard Llian with
my life.'
'What about me?' Karan's voice trembled.
'I have no instructions concerning you. Nonetheless, I can anticipate my
master to a certain extent.' She gave a mirthless chuckle, a sound like the
ratcheting of rusty gears. 'Protection is extended to you as well, until Yggur
returns.'
Karan said nothing more, just held Llian's hand tightly as they followed
Vartila to the grim stronghold up the hill. She had always known that there
must be a reckoning for her work in Carcharon, but nonetheless Mendark's words
had frozen her marrow. And she was dismayed by the painful hobble that was the
best Llian could do. She wanted to pick him up and cradle him in her arms. She
almost could have, he was so thin.
They went in through the front door. There were no lounging peacock sentries
here - the guards were dressed in military drab, but they were hard-eyed and
alert. Vartila led them down a broad corridor. The dark stone was undecorated
and dimly lit, like a prison.
'Do you have anywhere ... nice?' Karan asked in a barely audible voice. Her
desire to be alone with Llian was like a
living flame, but she did not want to hold their reunion in a cell. Vartila
made a sound in her throat that might have been a chuckle or a sneer.
They went up several flights of stairs and along another gloomy corridor.
Unlocking a creaking door, Vartila gestured them in. It was a good-sized room,
though as sombre as the rest of the stronghold. It could have been worse,
Karan thought, tugging Llian's hand.
Vartila scissored her way across the room and drew back the curtains. Flooded
with light, the room was not drab at all. The walls were half-panelled in
myrtle-beech that had a peacock lustre in the afternoon sunshine, and above
the panelling were painted in honeyed cream. The curtains were burgundy
brocade, the floor covered in a plain carpet of the same colour. Through the
doorway of the sitting room she saw an immense bed with six posts and a
canopy, beyond which was a bathroom clad in travertine.
The bathroom had a large square tub in the middle, and next to it a
five-legged stove with a cast-iron tank on top, as big as a water barrel.
Vartila filled the tank, which was full of round stones, and lit the stove.
'When the water is hot,' she said, 'turn this tap. Be sure to keep the tank
topped up or it will boil dry. I will send up your dinner.' She went out.
Karan and Llian stared at one another. She felt anxious.
Llian opened his arms. 'Oh, Karan,' he said. 'I can't believe you're here at
last.'
Karan leapt into his arms with such force that she knocked him over. Wrapping
her arms around him, she smothered his smudged face with kisses, and they
rolled across the pink travertine tiles until they fetched up against the side
of the bath.
'What's that funny noise?' Llian asked a long time later.
Karan opened her eyes. The room was full of fog. 'The tank is boiling!' She
turned the tap and scalding water spurted into the bath, accompanied by clouds
of steam. 'Put the plug in. Quick! Before it all runs away.'
Llian took a long time to get to his feet, she noted with dismay. By then she
had done the job and the cold water was running. Soon the bath was brimming
with suds. Karan sighed. 'A hot bath! I can't even remember the last. Turn
your back while I undress, please.'
'I've never known you to be modest before,' he said, wondering if her feelings
had changed toward him.

'I am extremely modest, save with my chosen lover,' she said archly. Llian
looked crestfallen. Then she laughed and kissed him on the nose. 'Llian, I
haven't bathed in weeks. I'm disgustingly filthy and I don't want you to see
me like that. When I am clean you can stare at my nakedness until your ears
smoke. Turn your back please.'
Llian grinned and went into the other room, where he found a dinner tray
already waiting on the table. He locked the outside door, ate a piece of
bread, arranged his papers on a desk and turned down the bed. Then Karan
called, 'You can come in now.'
The steam was so thick that he could hardly see the bath. Karan's red hair
hung down in dripping ringlets. Her face was flushed.
'Turn your head away while I undress,' he said teasingly.
'Nonsense,' she replied. 'I intend to inspect every bit of you.'
Llian took off his shirt. 'Look how thin you are,' she fretted. 'I could
rattle a stick down your ribs.' He took off his trousers. 'Oh!' said Karan,
sitting up in the bath. Above each ankle was a broad red band where the
ice-crusted manacles had rasped away skin and flesh. She stood up in a cascade
of water, touching the sunken and scarred flesh. 'Does it hurt?'
Llian did not answer. Her wet skin was the colour of oiled pearls. He gazed in
paralysed distraction. 'It hurts somewhat,' he said after a momentous silence.
Taking his hand, she tugged him forward. 'Remember the game we played at the
top of the Great Tower of Katazza?'
Llian gave a crooked grin. 'Which game?'
'The competition to see who had the most scars, and the best. I thrashed you
soundly!'
'I remember you sneering at my injuries,' said Llian, 'while boasting overmuch
about your own.'
'You were proud and needed to be brought low. And the game - '
'Yes? Get to the point. It's cold out here.'
She touched his ruined shins. 'The game is over. You win!'
His smile broadened. 'Since then I've been brought very low. You need to raise
me up again.'
She scanned him, up, down, middle. 'I don't think so, mister chronicler!' She
tugged at his hand. 'Get in!'
Llian slid over the side of the tub, slipped on the wet enamel and fell into
her arms.
Llian lay sleeping in an untidy sprawl across the sheets, one hand still
curled about her waist. Karan could not sleep. She slid closer so that their
bodies touched from shoulder to hip to ankle. He did not even twitch. This was
her chosen man. She wanted no other. But their union was destined tobe
unfulfilled, for triunes were sterile. The line would end here. There would be
no heir for beloved Gothryme, no child to pass her family Histories to, or
his. What would Llian do when she told him? She had no idea. That was a future
they had never discussed.
They had so much to say to each other that it could not all be said in a
month. The first day they hardly talked at all, just rejoiced in being
together at last, communicating by touching. For the whole day they did
nothing but walk together, or just lay face to face, whispering quietly.
But after that, how much was there to tell each other! How eagerly did he
listen to Karan's tale, and though she stumbled and rambled and sometimes
contradicted herself, and failed to remember quite what had happened here and
there, none of that mattered. All he cared was to hear the tale in whatever
manner she chose to tell it.
That took at least a day, what with late starts and occasional excursions to
the roof of the fortress to look down on the citadel and the city (their Whelm
guard never far away), and breaks for meals and snacks, four or five times a
day, and a delicious warm clinging siesta together in the mid-afternoon, with
the fire crackling on the other side of the room and the snow falling gently
out the window. Discovering one another, renewing one another.
'How did you ever find the courage to do what you did in Carcharon?' asked