Reign of Shadows (33 page)

Love
... how could she dream about it like that, as though she’d been molten
candlewax poured into a new mold, pliant for whatever he willed, eager to give
herself like . . .

Breathing
hard with embarrassment, Elandra pressed her hands against her cheeks in an
effort to calm herself. Perhaps the woman she’d chased was only a symbol of her
conscience, standing as a witness. But why had she run? And what had Hecati
been doing there?

Perhaps
she’d been visited by a dream walker.

Even
as the thought entered her mind, Elandra shivered with dread. Dream walkers
were creatures who entered the dreams of the unsuspecting and shaped their
minds while they slept. Creatures who stole dreams and twisted them into dark
magic. Creatures who might do worse.

She
flung off the netting and stood up in the dark tent, restless with alarm. The
camp was protected with
jinjas.
No dream walker could reach her without an alarm
being sounded.

But
even as she tried to reassure herself, a tiny voice in the back of her mind
reminded her that Hecati practiced small magic all the time and the palace
jinja
never noticed.

Hugging
herself against another shiver, Elandra paced slowly back and forth in the
cramped confines of her tent. Outside, a predator screamed in the jungle, but
the camp slept on peacefully. No alarms. Her dream was only a dream, nothing
more.

Still
trying to convince herself, Elandra continued to shiver in the hot silence of
the night. She did not return to her hard cot. There would be no more sleep
tonight.

In
the morning
,
Elandra said nothing about her strange dream, not even to Magan. The world
seemed filled with mystery and danger. Wary and nervous, she caught Hecati’s
speculative gaze on her more than once, and Elandra made certain she stayed as
far from the witch as possible. If ever the gods granted her a secure home or
wealth, she vowed she would never again travel without the protection of a
jinja
of her very own.

At
nightfall, she found her dreams once again restless and troubling, but nothing
like the one in which she had kissed the tall stranger.

On
the following day, their trail began to climb. They left the steaming jungle
for the foothills and wound slowly into a forbidding mountain range.

The
trees thinned out, and the air grew progressively drier and cooler until a
sharp wind blew constantly and the air felt thin and hard to breathe.

When
they reached the top of the mountains, Elandra lifted weary eyes to the heavens
and saw the stone walls of a stronghold rising up above the narrow road.
Something about the architectural lines of the structure made her hair rise on
the back of her neck. It looked extremely old and primitive.

Indeed,
with the sheer walls of the cliff faces rising up around her, Elandra felt
hemmed in and increasingly trapped. She could not explain her feelings; they
were deep fears, primitive and inarticulate. The age of the place filled her
with uneasiness. Carved into the cliffs were ancient symbols that seemed almost
familiar, although Elandra was certain she had never seen them before. Whenever
she stared at them too long, a sensation of dizziness would force her to turn
her gaze away.

She
told herself it was the thin air that made her feel so ill, hut inside she was
less sure.

Equally
disturbing was the fact that they came to no village. The stronghold stood
alone, completely isolated at the top of this long, treacherous road. Even
then, when the road abruptly leveled out in a sort of clearing and stopped, the
stronghold towered high above them. The only way to reach it was via a steep
series of steps carved into the solid rock of the mountainside.

The
Imperial Guard galloped ahead, banners streaming. Trumpets blared, sending up a
summons that echoed loudly. The Gialtans circled the elephants, grouping them
into a bunch. Thus, Elandra found her palanquin unexpectedly next to Bixia’s.

The
two half-sisters glared at each other.

Bixia
leaned over and said, “This time you will not usurp the honors due me. You will
wait. You will keep your place. Am I clear?”

Elandra
looked down, feeling humiliation burn the back of her throat. She clenched her
hands in her lap and nodded silently. She didn’t trust her voice.

The
trumpets blared again, and this time a gong was struck in the stronghold in
reply.

Figures
robed in black appeared on the ramparts, gazing down in silence. The absence of
welcome and fanfare made a sharp contrast to the streaming banners and
fluttering saddlecloths below.

Both
generals dismounted. As they approached the steps, a single figure in black
descended to meet them.

Elandra
felt a chill shiver through her. She had chased such a black-robed woman in her
dream. To her knowledge she had never seen a Penestrican before. Nor was she
someone with the gift of foretelling. How had she known what these women would
look like?

Servants
scurried about the elephants, bringing ladders to help the passengers dismount.

Conscious
of the need to avoid further mistakes, Elandra sat still, making no move at all
until Bixia was safely on the ground. Then Elandra descended as quickly as
possible. The wind plucked at her veil, sending it streaming out to one side.
She found herself conscious of her travel- stained and very wrinkled gown. Her
muscles ached, and her eyes were gritty from insufficient sleep. She felt wind-
blasted and unkempt.

Hecati
moved quickly around Bixia, straightening her gown and brushing away wrinkles.
Magan did the same for Elandra, who gave the maid a tired smile of gratitude.

Then
the generals, gleaming in burnished armor, swords clanking at their sides,
returned from the steps.

Both
bowed first to Bixia, then to Elandra.

General
Handar, his plumed turban powdered with dust and his spurs jingling with every
step, dropped to one knee before Bixia and bowed even more deeply with his hand
over his heart.

“My
lady,” he said in his deep voice, “permit this servant to wish you all the
blessings of the gods in your future. I have discharged my duty in bringing you
safely to the hands of the Penestricans. With my honor have I guided you to
this place. With my life have I protected you. May peace follow your name. I
request of you my farewell.”

It
was a beautiful speech, spoken with all the honor and sincerity the grizzled
old soldier was capable of expressing. Watching as he knelt there at her
half-sister’s feet, Elandra felt sentimental tears sting her eyes. When Handar
left them, it would cut their final tie to Gialta. Theirs was the fate of all
women, to be sent forth from the shelter of their home, to make lives for
themselves wherever Fate decreed, delivered like chattel and trade goods for
the purposes for men.

Bixia
gazed down at the commander with a smug gleam in her green eyes. “You have
served well, General Handar,” she said in a bored voice. Her gaze moved beyond
him, to the steps where more women in black robes had appeared. “We thank you.
Farewell.”

It
was a moment before he looked up. Something flickered in his
eyes—disappointment or chagrin, perhaps—at her short reply. He rose to his feet
and saluted. His dark face might have been carved from wood as he bowed quickly
to Elandra and turned away.

As
soon as he was remounted on his horse, he bawled out commands. The Gialtans
galloped away, leaving a cloud of dust and the echoing thunder of hoofbeats
behind.

Meanwhile,
the general of the Imperial Guard was giving his arm to Bixia, who smiled and
used her eyes to flirt above her veil. Together, they crossed the dusty
clearing. Elandra tried to follow, but Hecati gripped her arm and held her
back.

“No,”
she said in a low, sharp voice. Hecati’s face was pale and marked by dark
circles beneath her eyes as though the journey had been a terrible strain. Even
now, with Bixia safely delivered, Hecati looked tense and nervous as she glared
at Elandra. “You will wait outside with the servants until Lady Bixia is
received by the Magria and properly welcomed in.”

Elandra’s
cheeks burned beneath her veil, but she retreated obediently to the elephants.
The handlers were still unloading baggage. Magan stood guarding Elandra’s bag.
Without glancing at the maidservant, Elandra took a place beside her. Hecati
hurried after her niece.

At
the steps, the general and Bixia paused. There was a moment of silence, broken
only by the snorting of the horses and the restless mumbling of the elephants,
which were to continue to Imperia as part of Bixia’s dowry gift to her future
husband.

The
Penestricans had been waiting quietly on the steps. Now, however, they
descended to the bottom. One woman, young and beautiful, with pale straight
hair flowing down her back, walked ahead of the others. A pair of gnarled old
crones with terrible mutilation scars on their bare arms followed her. They
carried tall wooden staffs. The rest of the sisterhood lined the steps on
either side, holding burning candles that seemed odd in the bright sunshine.

The
leader’s eyes were a clear blue. Her gaze swept everyone, then fixed upon
Bixia. “I am Anas,” she said in a voice that carried easily.

It
was almost as though the cliff walls surrounding them formed a natural
amphitheater.

Anas’s
voice made Elandra think of crystal—melodic in a sharp, piercing away.

“I
am deputy to her Excellency, the Magria. I bid you welcome.”

The
general bowed low enough to make his armor creak. “The Lady Bixia,” he said by
way of introduction. Frowning, he glanced around as though seeking Elandra, but
Hecati gave him an impatient pinch and he faced the deputy again. “Also, the
Lady Hecati, sister-in-law to Lord Albain, and Lady Bixia’s aunt.”

He
seemed to have a ritualized speech prepared, but even as he opened his mouth,
one of the Penestricans lifted her wooden staff with a sharp gesture and pointed
it at the sky.

A
streamer of dark cloud appeared to obscure the sun, as though it had been wiped
away with a rag.

Elandra
gazed upward in astonishment. She could have sworn a moment ago the sky had
been cloudless. A shiver passed through her. It was said the Penestricans
commanded
many of the old ways. Did they govern the heavens as well as
the earth and its growing things?

“Where
is the other one?” Anas asked. “We were told, General, that both of Lord Albain’s
daughters would be brought to us.”

Bixia
tossed her head, but Hecati turned halfway around and snapped her fingers
imperiously at Elandra.

“Come,
girl!” she said. “Don’t hang back and call undue attention to yourself. You
delay the proceedings.”

Elandra’s
resentment burned even hotter. She was tempted to stay where she was, but with
everyone looking at her she had little choice but to walk forward. Hecati was
making sure she got off on the wrong foot with the Penestricans, and there was
little Elandra could do about it right now.

Although
miserable, she walked with her head high. She did not pick up her skirts and
run to join the others, although Hecati snapped her fingers again. Instead,
Elandra kept her steps modest and graceful as befitting a lady. If it was the
only way in which she could defy Hecati, then she would do it.

She
came up behind Hecati and stopped, grateful for the veil that hid her burning
face from Anas’s clear blue eyes.

The
deputy stared at her for a long moment without expression.

“May
I also introduce the Lady Elandra,” the general said into the awkward silence.

Anas
inclined her head graciously. “You are also bid welcome to our walls, Lady
Elandra.”

Bixia
began to fidget and sigh. “We’ve had a very long, uncomfortable journey. May we
have refreshment?”

Behind
her veil, Elandra gasped at Bixia’s rudeness. For once Hecati made no attempt
to correct her charge or to smooth over the matter.

A
flicker of something unreadable passed across Anas’s face. “Of course,” she
said pleasantly. “Everything has been prepared for you.” She shifted her gaze
and smiled perfunctorily. “General, according to our rules, no man may step
past this point.”