The Seer And The Sword (21 page)

‘This was not meant for me?’ Dahmis raised the stiletto a little higher.

‘No, my king.’

Dahmis stepped nearer. ‘No?’

‘No, sir.’

‘Neither is this meant for you,’ the high king said and, with a quick lunge, he drove the thin point of the stiletto into Toban’s shoulder.

‘A message needs to be delivered to your king,’ Dahmis rumbled, withdrawing the blade. ‘And you are the very one to give it.’

Within moments, the man began to writhe, screaming outraged pain and fury. King and soldiers drew back, watching as he died.

‘A man travelling alone never knows when he may need protection,’ the king muttered.

Curled in a chair, Torina tried to drive away the ache in her heart. Her crystal was obstinate about Landen: though she asked daily to be given some sign of him, no vision came.

A light knock sounded at her door. The knock was unfamiliar. Torina recognized the differences between Tesh, Anna and Lindsa, her only regular visitors. She went to the window and peered at her step. A large man wrapped in a goatherd’s draggled clothes stood outside. She opened the door to Dahmis, High King. He smiled at her, a friendly light in his eyes.

‘Thank you for your vision, Vineda,’ he said, his deep voice gentle.

She reached out to him with quick, unthought gladness. ‘You caught him?’

He took her hand in a manly grip. ‘We caught him, and sent him back to his king.’

‘Sent him back?’ She dropped his hand.

King Dahmis chuckled. ‘I see it’s true that not everything is shown to you.’ He gave her a keen glance. ‘He won’t trouble anyone again.’

‘H— he’s dead?’

‘He is dead.’

‘Oh!’ Her heart leaped. Toban, her former guard, Vesputo’s accomplice, gone!

‘Now for more cheerful matters. Come.’ He tugged at her arm. She followed him outside.

Two magnificent horses, one white, one grey, stood
by a tree, their reins looped over a branch. Dahmis unwound the reins of the white horse and put them in Torina’s hands.

‘For you. With thanks.’

For a moment, Torina was a child again, a child in love with a beautiful creature. She put her arms round the silky white mare, blinking back tears. She rubbed her eyes on the soft coat.

‘She’s much too fine for a village girl,’ she said.

‘Plainly, you weren’t raised on a farm. Will you tell me where you come from?’

‘No.’

‘Ah.’ The king seemed to be biting back words. ‘Well.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Keep the horse. She’s yours. The villagers will get used to it. You can tell them you have rich relations. A cousin who fought in the Desan Games and won.’

Torina twined slender fingers in the mare’s mane, shaking her head.

‘Please. As a favour to a king.’

The mare nuzzled her shoulder. That settled it. ‘Yes, you beauty,’ she crooned to the horse, smiling at the king.

Dahmis looked satisfied. ‘You agree she’s yours?’

‘Yes. Thank you. I’ll call her Justina.’

‘Justina.’

They were quiet together, Torina stroking the mare, wondering how Amber was doing.

‘Vineda, what more can you tell me?’

Her chest tightened. ‘First, remember you’ve never seen me. You know nothing of what I look like.’

The king put a hand on her arm, turning her to face him fully. He grasped both her hands in his. Reflexively, she pulled away. He shoved his hands in the pockets of the old, patched coat he wore.

‘Don’t ever fear me,’ he told her.

Vesputo stood in the courtyard, flanked by Beron, staring down at the training exercises Emid was holding. His mind was far away, in Glavenrell. Where was Toban? He should have reported back by this time.

A commotion behind made him turn. He heard voices calling and the sound of horses reined in. Several of his soldiers were gathering round a contingent of men dressed in the brown uniforms of the high king. A soldier stepped forward, bowing.

‘My lord.’

Vesputo inclined his head the minimum that courtesy dictated. The day was warm and mild, but he felt as if a cold wind blew on him. His hands were icy as Dahmis’ captain gave him a scroll.

‘The high king sends you this message, with his regrets.’

The high king
sends?
Is Dahmis alive?

The captain nodded to his men. Four brown-clad soldiers lifted a casket from a horse-drawn cart and carried it to Vesputo. They set it down on the stones of the courtyard. The captain bowed again, and made the sign of peaceful farewell.

‘Wait,’ Vesputo said. ‘Will you take some refreshment, rest here for the night?’

He was answered with a bow. ‘No, my lord. Our thanks, but the high king requires us to return quickly.’

The man mounted his horse with rapid ease, the contingent following his lead. In another few moments, Vesputo looked after their dust on the road.

Slowly, he untied the strings on the scroll and read.

It is with regret that I inform you of the untimely death of one of your envoys who had the misfortune to be set upon by bandits while in my dominions. There are still pockets of lawlessness within my kingdom. My condolences for your loss. Dahmis, High King
.

Vesputo ordered Beron to open the casket. Toban’s bloated face confronted him in death.

‘Bury him with honour,’ he said. His voice cracked, but that was all right. Let the men believe he would grieve for them if they died. ‘I’ll attend the funeral. Beron, come with me.’

He swept from the courtyard, striding so fast that Beron had trouble keeping up. He made his way to the king’s private room. There he flung the message on the floor and ground it under his heel.

‘Only one person could have warned the high king,’ he growled.

Beron stared, baffled.

‘Dahmis is not a suspicious man,’ Vesputo continued, the muscles in his neck taut with suppressed anger.

‘Who?’ Beron’s heavy eyebrows furrowed.

‘She’s alive.’ Vesputo almost shouted. ‘And
somehow, she has Dahmis’ ear. She must be living in his court, with that cursed stone.’

‘Princess Torina?’ Beron gasped.

‘Never say her name out loud. Yes!’ Vesputo folded his arms, mastering himself. ‘You will find her,’ he said, ‘and the crystal she keeps.’ His voice was as cold as the wind he had felt in the courtyard.

Dead, draggled leaves were wet under Justina’s hooves as Torina cantered into the small meadow by her cabin. A misty rain dampened her face. As usual, her head was completely covered. The horse had become her dearest companion. She often rode out, away from inhabited land, seeking hidden, wild places where huge trees grew. As she leaned against their ancient trunks, she could sometimes remember the singing of her soul. More often, she felt only the dissonant tide of bitter regret, seeing what might have been, if she had been wiser sooner. The seasons were turning on another year, leaving her still exiled.

When she visited Lindsa, her friend’s happiness soothed her troubled heart. The child, Antonia, loved Torina with dazzling persistence; toddled to her and held up chubby arms. Sometimes they went for slow rides through the village together. Torina knew the villagers wondered about her. In her mind’s eye, she could see the picture she made: beautiful horse, dull scarf, brown dress, unsmiling face. Yet, the people accepted her, perhaps because she’d been among them
for nearly three years. Young men still asked to court her, though her answer was always the same. No.

And the high king? Dahmis had little time to devote to solitary trips in disguise. When he asked her to tell her visions to other trustworthy men, she refused. One evening in late spring, they had devised a coded system for messages. She wrote to him weekly now, hiding the carefully worded letters in a hollow tree deep in the forest. From there, Dahmis’ men picked them up. The soldiers never saw her, nor she them.

She saved King Dahmis quite a bit of struggle with her insight, as he told her in his coded, unsigned replies. The alliances multiplied, as more kings were won over to the value of mutual assistance and open trade. Mlaven and Endak, haughty rulers of mighty lands, had recently joined, pledging to give the required allegiance to the high king.

Dahmis paid her handsomely. Torina was rich, but her riches sat cold and forgotten in a basket behind her bellows. Money did nothing to thaw the frozen loneliness in her heart. She hadn’t seen Dahmis since their meeting before summer, and now autumn was in the air once more. She slid from Justina’s back dispiritedly.

‘Come, my beauty, I’ll rub you down,’ she said, leading the mare towards the stable Tesh had built.

King Dahmis, dressed again as a soldier, stepped in front of her.

‘Oh!’ Torina cried.

The king looked well. He wore his growing power like a well-tailored mantle.

‘Sorry I startled you.’ He grinned at her.

She was overwhelmed with happiness to see him.

‘I need to speak with you,’ he said. ‘Are you alone?’

‘Always.’ It was out before she thought.

The king put a finger under her chin and lifted her face. ‘You’re lonely.’

She turned away so he wouldn’t see the treacherous tears starting. Justina edged closer. The king stepped back.

‘Attend to your horse. I can wait.’

Torina rubbed Justina until her face was clear.

‘Shall we go in?’ she asked Dahmis.

She offered food and water. He said no, sitting in the chair he’d taken the afternoon of their first meeting. She laid a quick fire.

‘Vineda, this visit takes me away from urgent demands.’

She reached for her crystal. ‘What do you need to know?’

‘No crisis of state. It’s that I have reports of men enquiring about a seer.’

Torina sat up taller, breathing fast. ‘And?’

‘The description is very particular. A young woman, with red hair.’

Torina’s fingers flew to her kerchief, checking to be sure every hair was hidden. Dahmis got up with sudden speed. He yanked the scarf from her head in one swift jerk. Her hair tumbled down in thick waves, as the king stared. Torina scowled at him, her hands winding up the tell-tale red.

‘Who are you?’ he cried. ‘You’re so beautiful.’

‘Who is looking for me?’

He shook his head. ‘I haven’t been able to find out. If you could bring yourself to trust me, my task would be easier. Tell me at least the kingdom he comes from.’

She considered. ‘I trust you enough to tell you I never see visions of my own future, so I don’t know.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘You can’t help yourself with your gift?’

She twisted her hands, regretting she had told him. ‘No.’

‘But can you guess? Someone from your past? Where do you come from?’

‘No. I won’t tell you.’

‘Vineda, I trust you with my life. Can’t you trust me with yours?’ His honest face was a trace impatient.

She wanted to pour everything out to him, lay down the burden of secrecy. And why not? Fate had led her to a position of trust with the most powerful man in the kingdoms. He would believe her.

But then, what about her beloved homeland? She had learned that Vesputo’s army was still as formidable as during her father’s time. She knew almost nothing of the political events shaping Archeld. What if her claim would lead to a devastating civil war? In the minds of her people, she was long dead.

‘Yes, with my life I trust you. But if you knew . . .’

‘It might lead me to war?’ he asked. At the look on his face, she shrank further from the thought of conquering Vesputo with Dahmis’ help. No one else must die for her. No one.

She nodded reluctantly.

‘I see,’ said the king.

They were silent together, Torina braiding her hair, Dahmis watching. Then, to her astonishment, the king knelt in front of her chair, eyes on a level with hers. She felt the force of his presence.

‘Vineda. Move to my fortress. There you’ll be safe.’

She flung up her hands, letting her rebellious hair escape. ‘There I’ll be killed! It’s what they will expect.’

‘Who will expect? You can’t ignore the danger!’ Dahmis enclosed her fluttering hands.

She shook him off. ‘I won’t live a prisoner in a king’s fortress.’

A sudden torrent of rain beat on the roof. The fire flared and sputtered as drops fell into it.

‘Let me protect you,’ the king urged. ‘If you won’t move to my fortress, allow me to guard you.’

‘If you send soldiers here, you’ll only draw attention to me. And I won’t go with you,’ she answered.

‘I am High King. You know this. Do you feel no awe?’

She met his gaze. ‘I feel awe. But not of kings.’

‘Vineda, on my knees, I ask you. Let me help you.’

‘I never wanted you to kneel to me. I won’t leave. If you want to help me, find the man who is looking for me, before he finds me and goes back to . . .’

‘Back to?’

‘Back to where he came from,’ she snapped.

Dahmis chuckled. The chuckle grew to a laugh. He got off his knees and bowed to her.

‘Forgive me. Keep your solitude. I’ll keep hunting these rumours.’

‘Thank you.’ She smiled.

‘If you change your mind, one word will bring all the help you ask for.’ Dahmis put his hand in his pocket and drew out a glass-like black stone suspended from a red cord. It was carved with his crest.

‘This will gain you passage through my check-point, and open all doors to me. There are only five of these in the kingdoms. Please take it, and wear it. All guards are instructed to respect this, no matter who bears it.’

She took it, aware of the honour she was given. ‘Thank you, my king.’

He bowed a little awkwardly. Torina watched him ride away in the rain. She went inside and listened to the wild beating of her heart.

In the castle of Archeld, Vesputo met with Beron, just returned from several months of travel.

Beron rumpled his thick eyebrows. ‘My lord, I loosened tongues in every way I know,’ he said. ‘No one had heard of a crystal that could tell the future. I tracked down a few red-haired lassies living round the fortress of Glavenrell. She was not among them.’

‘If she lives, we must eventually find her,’ Vesputo declared. ‘You searched the neighbouring kingdoms?’