Sons of the Falcon (The Falcons Saga) (35 page)

“Uncle Thorn’s orders?” she
demanded.

Maegeth nodded. “In conjunction
with your father’s. If they say it isn’t safe, then it isn’t safe.” Old and
crusty, she would not be swayed by pleas or tears.

A prisoner. In her own house.
Sharing a roof with her jailors. While that fawning little boy received the
training promised to her!

She moped, but no one took pity.
Even Mother’s sympathy was shallow. “You mustn’t be so difficult, dearheart. He
knows what he’s doing, and you disobeyed. Perhaps we should have let you feel
the consequences of your actions more often. I’m sorry.”

After four days of getting nowhere,
Carah lodged herself in her rooms. She declined the invitation to join the
family for supper and let her food grow cold. She was missing everything! The
things she’d always hoped for were passing her by, and everyone blamed her for
it. She sobbed until her pillows were soaked and her eyelids so swollen they
throbbed. She kicked chairs and flung shoes and tore at her hair with the
silver comb Thorn had given her. During the day, when things didn’t seem so bad,
she tried to fill the hours with other duties. She inspected Da’s preparations
for the Assembly but didn’t argue with the cook about the menu as she usually
did. Impressive dishes and orderly outbuildings and a flat, smooth racecourse didn’t
matter at all. She wrote plenty of letters. One to her brother in Windhaven; another
to Lady Maeret who headed the ladies’ riding society; another to Madam Dagni in
Thyrvael, asking how much longer before she could expect her new jewelry box
with the peridot carbuncles, even though she’d inquired about it only a week
ago.

Plenty of couriers rode from
Ilswythe’s gates unhindered. Carah doubted hordes of invisible ogres slavered
outside the gates, waiting for her to stumble into them. It had been months
since the last reports of a disappearance and that all the way from Endhal on
the Leanian coast.

Tired of indulging in self-pity,
she decided she had to escape the confines of the castle or go mad. Her horse
might not be able to slip through the gate unnoticed, but perhaps she could.
She dressed plainly, tossed the hood of her cloak over her head, fetched a
bucket of scraps from the kitchen stoop, and headed toward the north gate.
Captain Maegeth usually patrolled the main gate and her headquarters overlooked
the King’s Highway and the village to the south.

The two sentries on duty at the
north gate straightened at her approach and true to their training, they stared
straight ahead. She slipped through the sortie gate without drawing a second
glance. What lady carried a slop bucket?

The age-old dance around the
bonfire had brought on spring, all right. The hills and meadows slowly shed
their winter-gray cloaks. Green grasses sprouted shyly, and wild daffodils
nodded yellow bonnets. Breathing deeply of the moist, earth-scented air, Carah
meandered east toward the river. The cataracts tumbled white over the round,
black stones. She swept up fistfuls of smooth rocks and hurled them into the
current, roaring as the rapids roared.

With mud-caked fingers, she sank
down among the swaying grass and gazed up at the afternoon sky. Stripes of high
clouds made the sky seem more unreachable than when it was flat, opaque blue.
The pattern echoed a furrowed field. The farmers in the village said it
portended rain. She’d heard it would be a wet spring and a hot summer.

The sun sank, and the furrows
turned from white to pink. Like gashes. She shuddered at the thought of the
pearl fisher’s scars. She’d almost pitied him when she saw them.

She could have helped. Like with
her mother’s finger. If she had received training.

Like hell she would help that lout!
Even if those gashes were fresh and festering, she’d turn away. Why did Uncle
Thorn have to bring him here, him with his obvious contempt and stunning eyes?
Curse them both.

“Sure Dathiel warned you to stay
inside.”

Carah sprang from the reeds. Rhian
strolled leisurely her direction, leading his horse behind him.

“Oh, leave me alone!” Any other
commoner would have fled at her order, but not the pearl fisher. He just stood
there with his eyebrows quirked in an I’m-not-impressed fashion.

“You heard your uncle’s report. You
know why he mandated your protection.”

“He won’t mandate it enough to
train me,” she spouted and turned away from him. The water roiled angrily
around the boulders.

“That’s your doing.”

If he wouldn’t be ordered away,
she’d dismiss him by ignoring him.

“Your da saw you out here. He sent
me to escort you back. Be upset with him, not me. I’m just doing as I’m told.”

“Why send you?”

“Because everyone else has more
important things to do.” His dry tone indicated his disagreement on that score.

“
Nothing
is going to happen
to me.”

“Oh, aye, it’s invulnerable y’are,
unlike hundreds of others.”

His sarcasm put her teeth on edge.
She rounded on him. “Get this straight. Just because my uncle is unspeakably
rude to me doesn’t give you the right.”

“He is hard and relentless. He has
to be.
You
have to be, or you won’t cut it. Like all them rotting in
some ogre’s belly somewhere. You want to ignore what’s happening because it’s
too unpleasant? Or because the training is too hard for your sensibilities?
That’s too damn bad. If you weren’t so stubborn, I could help you.”

“I don’t need
your
help.”

Rhian laughed. “Because you’re
doing so well on your own.”

“Mocking me may be the last mistake
you ever make.”

“You’ll tell your da? He’ll chain
me up in his dungeon for telling his little girl the truth? Hnh, I don’t think
so.”

“You dare claim to know what my
father would and would not do? You’ve lost all sense of your place.”

“
My
place? Are you a lady or
are you avedra? Sure you haven’t even figured that out, have you? As avedrin
we’re equals, Carah—if I stoop to thinking of you as my equal.”

“You conceited, arrogant
fishmonger!” If only she could summon a little fire from her fingers.

“Apply your insults to yourself,
girl. Get on the bloody horse.”

A high-pitched wail of torment rose
between her teeth, and she stomped her feet, hating him. This bastard of a
commoner treated her worse than Kethlyn ever did. “I hope the next ogre takes
your head off!”

Rhian went still at that. Those
aquamarine eyes froze over. “It may yet, so don’t give up hope. Come back or
don’t. It’s no concern of mine.” He turned to toss the lead over the horse’s
neck, but his glance arrested on a distant hill. Alarm stiffened his frame. “Shit,”
he hissed and vaulted into the saddle. The Elaran horse laid her ears back; her
nostrils flared, and she tossed her head, begging for the freedom to flee. But
Rhian held her in check and lowered a hand. “Don’t make me drag you up here.”

“Like hell I’ll ride with you.” The
very idea! “I’ll walk, thanks.”

“There’s no time! They’re right
there
,
damn it.” His finger jabbed at the hills across the river.

Carah saw nothing but windswept
grass. At second glance, the grass did seem to lay down strangely. It parted as
if making way for someone’s legs. Then it stopped. Carah cast Rhian his own
I’m-not-impressed peak of the eyebrows.

He grit his teeth. “Thorn was
right. I never should’ve wasted my breath on you.” He swung his horse around,
dug in his heels, and suddenly vanished. The thump of galloping hooves receded.

Good riddance. Carah started back toward
the gate at her own pace, palms open to catch the caress of old seed heads as
she passed. A tingle of fear grew at her nape. Against her principles she
glanced back. The trail of flattened grass had spread. It neared the river now,
aiming for the calm waters below the cataracts. A rustle on her right. The
stomp of a footfall. The shuffle of another.

Carah whirled and raced for the
gatehouse. Terror urged her heart into her throat. Her breath came in burning,
ragged gasps. The rush of feet behind her, a brush of fingers upon her
shoulder, and Carah collapsed to her knees with a shriek.

Rhian appeared ahead of her,
hauling the horse to a stop. “That easy, Carah! That easy they could have you,
and you couldn’t do a thing to stop it. Please!” He lowered his hand, and Carah
didn’t hesitate. She tripped forward, grabbed his wrist, and let him haul her
up behind him. He spared one more glance toward the river, then off they
galloped for the gate. The portcullis clattered upward so slowly. As soon as
they rode through, Rhian ordered the gate wardens, “Shut her tight. Quick now.”
An infectious sense of calm pervaded his voice. The guards cranked the capstan,
then swung closed the massive bronze-banded doors. Each took two men to move.

Only when the iron bars slid into
place did Carah realize her arms were still locked about the pearl fisher’s
waist, her cheek pressed to the flat place between his shoulder blades. She
scrambled down, more embarrassed of being seen embracing him than she was
afraid of being snatched up by ogres.

Da rushed down the gatehouse steps
and scrutinized the extra precautions. “What happened?”

Rhian handed off his horse and
started for the tower stair. “I’ll let you know when they’re gone, m’ lord.”

“They?”

Rhian returned a poignant look that
explained who ‘they’ were. “Where’s Dathiel?”

“Wherever Jaedren is, I assume. Are
they close?” Rhian didn’t answer but disappeared in the stairwell. Kelyn looked
his daughter over, reached out to steady her. “Are you all right?”

She was shaking head to toe. “I …
Da, I—” She broke away and ran for the keep. Uncle Thorn emerged onto the
steps, Jaedren in tow. The excitement in the courtyard must have drawn them
from the library. Carah dropped to her knees, even with servants and sentries
looking on, and grabbed her uncle’s hand. “I’m sorry!” she sobbed. “The ogres
are out there, but I can’t see them. I’ll do whatever it takes. I won’t fight
you anymore. Please. I’m so sorry.”

Thorn said not a word. He drew her
to her feet and kissed her muddy fingers, and with an arm secured around her
shoulders, he ushered her inside.

~~~~

A
full company?
You’re sure?
Thorn asked silently.

Breathless from his hasty descent
from the gatehouse towers, Rhian collapsed into a chair in the gentleman’s
parlor. The scent of brandy was infused into the rug and upholstery after
centuries of use.
Don’t insult me. Of course, I’m sure. You’d think I knew how
to count naenion by now.
A fire flickered in the hearth. Twilight gathered
outside the windows. Jaedren rushed to him with a mug of hot mead. “Can I have
that cold?” Rhian asked. He felt sticky with chilled sweat.

The squire blinked, looked at the
steam rising from the mug. “Sure.” He rushed back to the sideboard, dug out the
ice bucket and started chipping ice.

Rhian chuckled. “Sure I’ve become
the kind of customer I despised at the inn.”

I assume they were armed
,
Thorn said.

Rhian slouched in the chair.
To
the teeth. Worse, in front of all those murky lifelights was a bright one.

Elari?

Aye. I thought they meant to
cross the river, you know, after her. But they stayed on the south bank,
skirted the town and followed the Highway. They headed south toward Bramoran. I
wanted to follow ‘em, see where they turned aside, but …

No, you were right not to go
alone. And you have my thanks for troubling yourself with Carah. You probably
saved her life, though she’ll never admit it.

Eejit! I never shoulda wasted
time arguing with her. That nagging mouth of hers. Complete distraction. Shoulda
thrown her over my saddle and whipped her back to the fortress.

Thorn chuckled.

Glad you’re amused
.
Those
naenion could report Carah’s presence to whoever’s stealing us, surround us
with watchers until they catch her alone again. You know it’s a possibility.

Of course, I know. But the rogue
dardrion know Ilswythe is my home and that I have an avedra for a niece. Saffron
herself told me she’s seen naenion lurking about these hills many a time. But
they’ve never crept within striking distance. Why not? Why would the rogue
dardrion not send their minions after me and my family first and foremost?
Besides you, I’m the only trained avedra this side of the Drakhans. That ought
to be plenty of incentive.

Or maybe it scares the shit out
of them, and that’s why they haven’t touched you or her.

Thorn shrugged, at a loss
.

Are you talking about the green
men?

Thorn and Rhian turned to stare at
Jaedren. He stood near the arm of Rhian’s chair, the cold mug half raised, his
eyes squinting hard in concentration.

The older avedrin broke into
laughter.
Well done
, Rhian said, taking the mug. Thorn reached out and
ruffled the boy’s hair.

I have a headache.
Jaedren
pressed knuckles into his temples.

Of course, you do,
Thorn
said
. Like bees stinging the inside of your skull, I bet. The pain will
lessen with practice. The more you use the skill, the less effort it will take.
Thorn laid a hand to the boy’s shoulder and leant close.
But listen to
me, son. This skill is to be used only among us. We do not drop in on anyone’s
thoughts without their leave. This skill is too easily abused, you understand?

Jaedren nodded.

Thorn released him and sank back
into the chair, locked his fingers over his belly.
And it’s not often wise
to seek the inmost thoughts and secrets of men. That is a dark and frightening
place to go.

I understand, sir
.