Path of Fate (50 page)

“I remember how I was when I first met you. I was rude, to you, to
him
—Kaval.”

Reisil stiffened as he spoke the name. She hadn’t asked what had become of the traitors, hadn’t wanted to know. Death at the least.

“I didn’t like him at all. Didn’t think about why. Then you served us at the kohvhouse and I got my comeuppance.” Reisil heard the smile in his voice and knew he remembered Ceriba as she was then, laughing and carefree. “Then there was that endless journey—hopeless, it seemed. You reminded me of Ceriba then. Determined, strong, unbreakable. That gave me hope when I thought there was none. Then all of a sudden you weren’t the pretty girl in the Kallas square anymore. You turned into something more, something out of legend, out of the pages of books. You did such
things
. . . . Such things. Then . . . you disappeared in the night, and I hadn’t said anything. Nothing.”

He fell silent and Reisil sat unmoving. She felt cast afloat in the ocean, helpless for the wind to carry her one way or the other. The silence stretched on, thinning, fraying. Nearly unbearable. Then he spoke again.

“I was left to think. You know, I didn’t suspect
him
—Kaval. Not until you told me that you’d seen him among Ceriba’s captors. What I didn’t like from the moment I laid eyes on him was the way he touched you, the way you looked at him. I didn’t like the way you regretted him.

“I am not skilled at speaking my heart. When I saw the things you did . . . it was overwhelming and I—I didn’t know how to think or feel. You had never been anything but caring, honest and loyal—you had nothing in common with Kvepi Buris and the others. Except your magic. I doubted you. But I learned well enough what my heart wanted when you disappeared with Edelsat. To return to Mekelsek Keep to aid his family—I knew that. But my heart spoke of Edelsat’s feelings for you, told me that I had waited too long, that I had lost my chance to speak and Edelsat would not be so foolish as to waste his chance.”

He paused, as if waiting for her to speak, to confirm his suspicion, but Reisil remained silent, her head ducked down, twisting a grass stem between her fingers, cheeks hot.

“I determined that when I saw you again, I would speak, tell you at least of my gratitude and my friendship. But still I had not learned my lesson, for when you arrived to guide Ceriba to Elutark, I faltered. You seemed so happy, so replete. I thought surely Edelsat must have spoken to you, surely this was a sign of an understanding. Such are the obstacles foolish men make. And mayhap I was not wrong. But I must speak, for my heart will have it so. So I tell you: Reisiltark,
ahaladkaaslane,
friend of my sister, you are my heart’s ease and I yearn for you.” His voice deepened and he took her hand, pressing his lips against her cold fingers.

Then Reisil answered without words, meeting his lips with her own in a kiss of deepest longing.

They traveled together for the next two days, talking constantly, making love in the brilliant sunshine at the noon stop, again into the small hours of the night, the stars cartwheeling above. Reisil felt such a deep delight in the bottom of her soul, matched by the rich joy in Kebonsat’s dark gaze.

 

“Tell me about your family.”

“What would you know?”

They sat in the shade of a tree, Reisil between Kebonsat’s legs, her back pressed to his chest, head resting on his shoulder, his arms wrapped warmly around her waist.

“I don’t know. What about the man you fought with outside the wizards’ circle? Edelsat said you both had blood ties to the throne.”

Kebonsat growled and made a sucking sound with his teeth.

“Both our houses go back to the first Karalis Vasalis. He had two brothers. Both were ambitious, both hated each other. But they also loved Vasalis. He had charisma and power to unite the clans. His brothers became his henchmen. Vasalis made them his first Dures, ranked higher than any other lord. Covail and Vadonis weren’t the brothers’ original names. As a sign of loyalty and respect, each house adopted a name rooted in Vasalis. Covail, meaning ‘dawn of victory,’ and Vadonis, meaning ‘service to glory.’ But new names didn’t change how we feel about each other. Our families have a long history of hating each other.”

“How close are you to the throne?” Reisil asked in a diffident tone, tracing his laced fingers with a fingertip. Kebonsat’s arms tightened, sensing her purpose in asking. His voice was tight as he answered.

“Close enough. Far enough that I don’t worry overmuch about it.”

“But you will be the next Dure Vadonis, right?”

He nodded. “But in between me and that chair are the Karalis’s brother, his two sons, his daughter and Covail. I don’t lose sleep over it.” His tone was clipped and his fingers turned beneath hers and clutched them tightly.

Reisil nodded, feeling something inside curling up into brown dust. She had never expected their relationship to be permanent or even longlasting. Hadn’t she told Edelsat the same? But deep down, somewhere she hadn’t even realized it existed, she had hoped against hope. But that was gone now.

She twisted in his arms, urgency pushing at her. Time was so precious! She pressed her lips to his and lost herself in the fire that swept them up.

 

There came a time, too soon, when they neared Kallas.

Reisil dismounted, her expression pained, her pace stumbling and slow. Kebonsat walked beside her. Saljane skimmed high on the summer breeze. Too soon they came within sight of the town and, on the other side of the river, the collection of tents. Kebonsat’s retinue, waiting for him to return home. In the opposite direction, in Koduteel, Reisil’s friends and teachers waited. Her duty waited.

They stopped, hearts twisting, fingers caught together. They watched the Vadonis pennant snapping in the breeze. A caravan trundled down across the bridge, wheels echoing hollowly as it headed into Patverseme. A kingfisher twittered and was answered. A cloud of chickadees swarmed into a cottonwood tree, chattering loudly.

Reisil turned to face Kebonsat, tears tracking down her face. He brushed at them with a finger, even as he caught his breath on heart-splitting pain.

“We’ll see each other,” he whispered. “I will come to Koduteel, and surely you will come to Patverseme.”

Reisil nodded, though she thought again of the words she had said to Edelsat.
Our lives must be separate, his to grow sons and take the title of his house, mine to serve Kodu Riik in the Lady’s name.

“We will see each other again,” she repeated back to him. Not as lovers, but as old, honored friends. For each had their duties, and neither would shirk them. For as much as she loved Kebonsat, she loved the Lady better, just as he loved his family.

She touched dry lips to his in farewell, then mounted, galloping toward Kallas, calling Saljane to follow. She didn’t look back, but kept her back straight, rigid with misery.

She came to the road and turned Indigo up the hill, dust puffing in tiny clouds from his hooves. For a moment she reined him in, bowing her head. It wouldn’t do to ride into Kallas tearstained and morose. She wrestled with her grief, balling it up and setting it far down inside herself to feel later, when she could do so in private. She clucked to Indigo to continue on.

~
I will miss him too,
Saljane said.

Already it was shared, and in the sharing, less difficult a burden. Reisil breathed deeply, feeling the caress of the sun on her head. Her heart lifted.

She rode through Kallas’s open gate, waving a greeting at Leidiik, Saljane perched on her shoulder. He limped down to meet her.

“Bright day, Reisiltark. And welcome home.”

It wasn’t home anymore, but the words warmed her in a way she hadn’t expected. She grinned at him.

“Thank you, Leidiik. It is nice to be back.”

He eyed her face where the golden vining traced its way down to her collar.

“I heard things turned out all right. You found the Vadonis girl, got the treaty signed.”

Reisil nodded. “We did. And now there will be peace. For a while, at least.”

“Good news. Won’t be sorry to see the fighting done with. Glad to see you’re okay, too. Had some worries. But I guess you probably don’t want to dawdle. Want some kohv, I expect. Hot meal. Won’t be staying long.”

Reisil shook her head. “Not long.” She nudged Indigo forward and then paused. “Leidiik, if you should see Nurema, tell her I’ll be back, would you? Tell her she was right, about everything.”

He grinned. “I’ll tell her, but likely she already knows. That woman has a sixth sense.”

Reisil chuckled and nodded, and then rode on.

By the time she reached Raim’s kohvhouse, she was being trailed by more than two dozen people, all calling greetings, asking questions faster than she could answer. When she dismounted, Indigo’s reins were whisked away along with her packs. Raim met her at the door.

“Bright day,
ahalad-kaaslane
. Be welcome here.” He bowed, gesturing with a flourish. Reisil found herself smiling. She missed the familiarity of his old address, “tark of my heart,” but change was to be expected. At least he wasn’t still angry with her.

He sat her at the head of a great table, and a crowd collected around her, pressing in from beneath the arcades to hear the story she told. She related as much as she could, leaving out the horrors done to Ceriba and playing down her own role. But the winds had carried the stories far in advance and many came forward to beg healing aid. Well enough did Reisil know of the wounds, old and new, that plagued them all. But she quailed under the demand. She did not know if she could do so much and she remembered Odiltark’s warning.

Suddenly Varitsema was there, smiling and bustling. He chased them off like a sheepdog harrying a pack of wolves and carried her off to sleep in his own house.

She came to the front stoop with trepidation, remembering the day she’d shoved her way in, the day she’d become
ahalad-kaaslane
. But Varitsema was most cordial and guided her to a bedroom, leaving her to bathe and sleep. Which she did.

The next day she rose before dawn and wandered through Kallas, Saljane on her shoulder. That day she performed many healings, miracles the town called them, and would continue to call them. She was fed, stuffed full, her pockets filled with trinkets and bits from grateful wives, fathers, daughters, brothers, sons and mothers.

The end of the day found her back in Raim’s kohvhouse, eating a thick soup of beans and vegetables, smearing a thick layer of butter on the chewy flatbread fresh from the oven. Saljane ate strips of meat on a perch nearby. Otherwise, Reisil ate alone, watched on all sides by those who came to see her, to be near her. In her exhaustion, she hardly realized the attention.

“I have something for you.” Roheline slid into the chair opposite Reisil. “Welcome back to Kallas. I hear you’ve been busy. Tark indeed, greater than we ever imagined. And
ahalad-kaaslane
.” She spoke quickly, as if afraid of silence, as if the speech were planned.

Reisil nodded tiredly. “The Blessed Lady has been generous.”

Roheline put her hand over Reisil’s. “Since you left, I regretted my coldness. I didn’t understand. I still don’t—as children we all dream of becoming
ahaladkaaslane
. But it would be hard to give up my home, give up Raim.”

Reisil turned her hand to grip the other woman’s, eager to confess her feelings. “I feared it so much. I didn’t want to give up what I had here. All my life I had worked so hard to have a place of my own, somewhere that I belonged. I thought I couldn’t have that as
ahalad-kaaslane
. But I’ve grown a bit since then. Now I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Roheline squeezed her hand and pushed a paper-wrapped package across the table. “All the same, I want you to remember us. So I made this for you. You might want it in Koduteel.”

Reisil unwrapped the package, gasping. It was a long wrap, to be worn as a skirt or shawl. It was the color of spring plums, dark and alluring. She turned it over in her hands, the soft, sturdy fabric sliding like silk. “It’s beautiful!”

“You’ll be seeing more of the purple coming out of here. We’re going to have a dye cooperative. Everyone who wants work will have it, and no one will go hungry. Thanks to you. Already traders have begun pounding on the doors wanting the first shipments.”

Though she wanted to hear more, Reisil’s jaw cracked on a sudden yawn and Roheline stood. “I’d better go. Time you were asleep. Come here in the morning before you go and Raim will have food for your journey.” She came around the table and hugged Reisil. “I’ll miss you, my friend.”

Reisil slept well that night and woke refreshed, well before dawn. She thought of Kebonsat, her dreams filled with him. Their parting still ached, but no longer with the rawness of a fresh wound.

She dressed in the new clothing that had been delivered the day before while she walked the streets. New soft boots, supple doeskin trousers and a vest of dark green, a buff-colored cotton shirt laced tightly down her arms and at the neck. She pulled on her gauntlet and lifted Saljane to her shoulder before retrieving the newly shod Indigo from the warm comfort of Varitsema’s stable. She trotted him through the cool morning to the kohvhouse, the clopping of his hooves echoing down the deserted streets. Raim fed her an enormous breakfast of sausages, eggs, berry tarts, seedcakes with honey, and hot kohv with cream and nussa spice.

“You have turned into a ghost of yourself. Eat it all or I shall be mortally offended,” he pronounced dramatically, and then hovered as she ate.

When she was through, he handed over her packs, bulging once again with food to feed an army.

“Thank you, Raim.”

“No thanks are necessary, tark of my heart. Come back soon, when you can. You are always welcome here.” He hugged her. Reisil hugged him back, a silly grin splitting her lips.

Then she was back on Indigo, heading southeast toward Koduteel. She rode into the dawn that streaked the sky in a blaze of glorious purples, reds, oranges and yellows. Indigo pranced, the rest of the past days making him eager to run. Reisil smiled and tossed Saljane into the air.