The Plains of Kallanash (15 page)

After a while, she pulled open his robe and reached for him, but he grabbed her hand and drew it to his lips.

“No need,” he said, a little breathless. “You already have my full attention.”

She giggled then, and kissed him again. Then before he knew what she was doing, she was astride him, and rubbing herself against him, moaning softly, while he sat delirious with astonished disbelief, too delighted to protest. When she slid him inside herself, it was too much and he came almost at once.

“Gods! I’m so sorry!” he gasped. “Give me a little time to recover…”

She said nothing, but her face was white with disappointment.

“Or I could kiss you
there
?”

“Oh,
yes!
” she breathed. “
Please!
”

So he did.

Then they went to bed and did it all again.

It was only the fourth time Mia had awoken beside Hurst, but already it felt like a familiar routine. He was awake first this time, smiling at her as she opened her eyes, lifting his arm as she rolled across the bed to cuddle him. Such a sweet man, and so good-natured. He was nothing to look at, but he had a lovely smile and she liked his strong, muscular arms. When he held her, she always felt safe and protected.

“You’ve slept for hours,” he said into her hair. “You must have been tired.”

She had been, she realised. For weeks now she had been on edge each night, wondering whether Jonnor would come to her bed, what he would expect of her, whether she was managing to keep him happy. And then, somehow, she would lie awake for hours afterwards, with no idea why, but increasingly restless. If she loved Jonnor less she would suspect that there was something lacking in their relationship, but how could that be?

“I wondered if you might be pregnant,” he added.

“No, no sign of it. You were right about that; you said it might take a long time.”

“I’m sorry. I know you want a child of your own.”

“Oh, there’s no rush. It’ll happen when the Gods see fit. I
was
tired, though, but I feel much better now. Hurst…” She rolled over to face him. “May I ask you something?”

“Of course, anything.”

“What you did for me last night… do you mind it?”

“You mean kissing you there?” Smiling, he slid his hand between her thighs, making her giggle. “I rather like it, actually. And
you
quite like it, I believe?”

“Oh yes! But Jonnor—”

“Ah! Jonnor is not very keen?”

“He said it was disgusting. But it’s not, is it? It seems normal enough in all my books.”

“You read some interesting books, then, but yes, it’s perfectly normal. You have to remember, though, that Jonnor… well, he’s not had a lot of experience with women. Only Tella, in fact.”

“Really? Well, there’s the advantage of the two of you sharing me, I can come to you whenever I wish and not trouble Jonnor.”

He was silent for a long time, a strange expression on his face. “Actually… “ he said, looking away from her, “Jonnor doesn’t want to share you after all.”

“Oh. Bit late for that, isn’t it?”

He laughed a little, his face twisted as he looked up at her. “Far too late. But he won’t see it. So perhaps we shouldn’t tell him about this.”

It was her turn to fall silent. She could see the logic in his suggestion, yet she felt uncomfortable with the idea.

“We’re not doing anything wrong,” she said slowly. “We’re not doing anything that needs to be hidden.”

“But the arrangement—”

“Pfft, the arrangement! The arrangement has no legal standing. Within the marriage, anyone can sleep with anyone, it is only a courtesy to talk about arrangements and the lead husband having any special rights. Besides, it was Jonnor’s idea to let you sleep with me in the first place.” Again he was silent. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

“It may be true, but still… I don’t like to go against his wishes, not openly.”

She thought he looked guilty as he spoke, and it occurred to her that there might be some deeper tension, some male difficulty, between the two of them.

“Well, it was not your fault, I came to you, after all, so I will tell Jonnor,” she said.

He said nothing, and she took that as assent.

~~~

Hurst was home for several days, and Mia enjoyed the time more and missed Jonnor less than she had expected. Every morning after the family communion they spent an agreeable hour or two going through papers and petitions and accounts and supplies. If there were things to be done, he was happy to take care of them for her, so that she had more time to spend with the children and her Companions. They spent the stillness playing crowns or reading in comfortable silence before he went to the training grounds.

After meat, there were long, languorous evenings in bed. There was not the urgency of their earliest times together, for she felt no need to practise now. Instead, they simply took their time and enjoyed themselves, falling asleep afterwards in a tangle of limbs and covers, and rising comfortably together the next morning like a pair of long-married farmers.

Hurst was not a great reader, and would often get bored with his book while Mia was still engrossed in hers. One afternoon during the stillness he folded up his book and tossed it aside with a great sigh. She was alert immediately.

“Isn’t it interesting?”

“No, and who would have thought any writer could make battles so deadly dull? What are you reading? One of your romantic things?”

“Oh no, nothing so enjoyable. This one’s deadly dull too.” She slid the book along the table to show him.

“‘Rituals of Death’? That’s pretty morbid, Mia.”

“Do you think so? It’s one of the books I found while I was exploring the third floor of the library. I thought…” She flushed, but forced herself to keep her tone light. “I thought it might give me some idea whether it was common to see people in the funeral tower, or whether it was just my imagination.”

“And has it?”

“No, but some of the information is interesting. Did you know, for example, that the blue lights come from a kind of vapour in the rocks, which is brought to the tower through underground pipes?”

“Really? A vapour? But why?” He wondered if this was something he should have learned during his time with the scholars, if only he’d paid attention.

“In the days of the Petty Kings, all the dead had to be burned by law, but there were too few trees on the plains, so they devised this way of doing things, since there’s a lot of this vapour underground, it seems. Although nowadays only Highers are burned, of course.”

“Well, our ancestors were such clever folks, weren’t they? No trees, but still you must burn your dead – somehow. And now that there are plenty of trees, it’s fine to bury the dead.”

“Well, the Lowers don’t go to the Life Beyond, so it doesn’t matter what happens to them, does it?” she said, with a light laugh. “But obviously the Highers still have to burn to purify their souls to be with the Gods.”

He pulled her book closer, flipping through the strips. “What does this mean?” he asked, pointing to a strip with drawings on it.

“Oh, I couldn’t make anything of that. It’s to do with the vapour, but I don’t see how it works, do you?”

“‘Vapour transmission pipes’, it says. But I don’t see… Ah, here’s a bigger drawing. These are the pipes here, see? Inside these bigger pipes.”

“Why are they inside bigger pipes?” she asked.

“For maintenance. Look… ‘Vapour ducts undergoing checks within the access tunnels.’”

She peered at the drawing. “There are people there. The tunnels are big enough for people.” She could not keep the excitement out of her voice.

“Well, of course! How else could they check the pipes? Oh!”

“Yes, exactly. Tunnels large enough to walk through, connected to every funeral tower. Do you see?”

“So someone could have got into the tower—”

“Yes! Yes! From a tunnel below
… Could have been there, inside the tower… That’s what I saw!” She was triumphant, vindicated.

“But why?” was all he said, and at once she was deflated. For of course there was no reason for anyone to go there just before the burning. It was all very strange.

~~~

Mia was oddly nervous about Jonnor’s return. She longed to have him back, of course
– he was her husband, and she loved him, that went without saying – but his moods had always been a little uneven. The outcome of the skirmish could affect it, which was perfectly natural, but trivial matters like the state of an inn or a faulty horse or the weather could throw him into gloom.

Then she had to confess to him about Hurst, and she was not at all confident of the outcome. Even though she was absolutely certain of the law, and had even checked the ‘Constraints of Marriage’ booklet given to her by the Voices before they had married, still she was not quite sure that Jonnor would like it. That could mean sulks and tantrums and days of angry silence.

When Jonnor arrived, he was in his sunniest humour. The skirmish had gone well, the return journey had passed off without incident and even the weather was unusually benign. As he dismounted in the receiving yard and tossed the reins to a stable hand, he strode across to Mia beaming from ear to ear, and planted a kiss full on her mouth.

“Well, little wife, your triumphant husband returns. Come upstairs with me and I’ll tell you all about it.” He nodded briefly to Hurst, and tucking Mia’s arm into his own, led the way to the high tower. She had to half run to keep up with his longer stride, puffing a little, but fortunately he talked non-stop and required no answers from her. Behind them, Hurst walked in silence, hands behind his back, then the Companions, guards and servants in procession, straggling a bit and gradually becoming spread out. Jonnor, Mia and Hurst entered the high tower and everyone else turned aside to their own quarters, or to return to their duties.

Mia had set out fruit and cakes and wine, but Jonnor went straight past them to the stairs. “We’ll talk later, cousin,” he said to Hurst, who nodded in acquiescence. “I need to change and whatnot. You can make yourself scarce for a while. Come along, little wife, you can help me out of these muddy clothes.”

He took her hand and led her up the stairs and into his bedroom, tossing his riding coat carelessly over a chair. She had never been there with him before, but she had no chance to comment on that for he immediately turned to her.

“Here, help me with these buttons, will you? So, have you missed me, little Mia?”

“Of course I have,” she said, and she worked her way down his jerkin. He removed it, and she started on his shirt, feeling a little buzz of excitement. She opened the shirt and ran her hands over his bare skin, smiling up at him.

“Ah, you
have
missed me,” he smirked. “I can guess what you’ve really missed.” And he grabbed her waist and pulled her towards him, so that she could feel his erection, and rubbed himself against her. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? Some of that?” She giggled, and he began to manoeuvre her towards the bed. “You must be desperate for it, after so long without a man.”

“Actually…”

She knew as soon as she began to speak that it was a mistake, the timing was wrong, and perhaps it would be better to say nothing after all, as Hurst had wished.

But he had pulled away from her, suspicious, and she had to go on. “Actually, I slept with Hurst. While you were away. I… I needed the company…”

“Hurst?” His voice was icy cold. She felt a knot of fear twist in her stomach.

“I… I was lonely…”

She had no warning, his hand a blur across her face, a crack and then, somehow, she was crashing into the wall in a corner of the room, flashes bursting in her head, dizzy, disoriented. It was several seconds before the pain exploded – her face, her eye and jaw, an elbow grazing the wall, her back against something hard – furniture probably. She could taste blood in her mouth.

He leaned over her, his face filled with violent anger. “You stupid bitch! You whore! Stupid fucking whore! You’ve spoilt everything now!”

Then he was gone. His boots thundered on the stairs, then there was shouting from below, Jonnor’s voice terrifyingly loud, Hurst’s lower, but agitated. Furniture crashed. Something glass broke. A door slammed. Then silence.

She vaguely remembered Hurst calling her name, then holding her gently, so gently, cradling her while she wept and shook in his arms. Then more people
– her Companions, one of the Healing Slaves, servants. Somebody – Hurst probably – carried her through to her own bedroom. Soft cloths wiped her face, with the scent of herbs and salves, gentle hands tending her, murmuring voices in the background.

She slept, woke in the dark, slept again. Every time she opened her eyes, Hurst was there, watching her, his face anxious. “She’s awake,” he would say, and Morsha or Mista would appear, bending over her, giving her sips of water. Then more sleep.

The next day, when she was well enough to sit up, the Karninghold Slave came to ask what had happened. He must have talked to Jonnor too, because later he brought him to apologise. He was upset, he said, taken by surprise, he had misunderstood, he realised now she had every right to sleep with Hurst. He hoped she would forgive him. He took her hand, kissed it, stroked her hair, looked pleadingly at her. Of course she forgave him, she said, trying to smile, although it hurt. Then he went away and she slept again.

As soon as Mia was recovered enough to get up, she returned to her duties as if nothing had happened. Hurst had gone back to the lines already, but Jonnor was still around, anxiously solicitous. Every stillness he stayed with her instead of going off to his room to rest, he helped with the management of the Karninghold, he sat through petitions with her and once he volunteered to go to a village which had requested help. She was glad to see him go, for his unusual attentiveness unnerved her.

She had no idea what explanation, if any, had been spread around to account for her bruises, but she made no effort to hide them, even when she heard petitions. The servants tiptoed around her as if she might explode at any moment, and she noticed that there were more household guards around than usual, and there was often a Slave about, even in the family hall.