The Shattered Chain (28 page)

Magda, watching, thought unexpectedly,
I’m free of him. Before, I would have been unendurably jealous
—
to see that look in his eyes, turned on any other woman. I nearly went mad when he danced with Bethany at a New Year’s party last year. Now I do not care.
Her love, her guilt, her concern, had been a part of her so long that she felt cold, flat and empty. Now she looked at him with sympathy, with concern for his thinness and pallor. …
As if he were my brother, my child. But not a lover. Not now.

Jaelle started to move away, then suddenly reached out and caught Peter’s hand. She said, “I cannot believe it. You are so like to my cousin Kyril, and yet… let me see your hands! How many fingers have you?”

“Normal number,” said Peter, “four and a thumb—oh, my God!” He was looking down at Jaelle’s slender hand, lying in his own. “You have six fingers on each hand,” he said numbly.

“Yes. The Ardais and the Aillard blood—those who bear it have the extra finger,” Jaelle said. “Is it wholly unknown among Terrans? Rohana is Aillard by birth, and her husband an Ardais; and all of her children have the Aillard hands.” She began to laugh hysterically. “If Rumal had—had bothered to count your fingers—” she got out between spasms, “you would now be hanging—in pieces—from his castle wall.”

She could not seem to stop laughing; Magda came and tried to calm her, and at last, really frightened, reluctant but afraid that it was the only way to stop her, took her shoulders and shook her hard. Jaelle began to cry as hysterically as she had laughed. “You’d be dead,” she got out between sobs, “you’d be dead—”

She has ridden too far; she is still not strong.
Magda said to Peter, “Can you take her on your saddle? We must get away from here before nightfall,” and watched as Peter tenderly lifted Jaelle on his horse, got on and supported the drooping girl, his arm holding her upright against him. Magda mounted her own horse, and took the reins of Jaelle’s, leading it after them. And already—she realized a long time afterward—she knew then what was going to happen.

Part III

JAELLE n’ha MELORA,

Free Amazon

Chapter

TWELVE

The ceiling was painted blue, with a border and a design of little stars in gilt. At first Jaelle could not imagine where she was. Then she remembered that she had slept in this room during her one extended visit to Castle Ardais, in her sixteenth year.

“Before you renounce your heritage as
Comynara”
Kindra had warned her, speaking more seriously than she had ever before spoken to her foster-daughter, “you must first know what it is that you are renouncing.” So to Ardais Jaelle had gone, protesting, to remain a full half-year. She had not been happy there; she had felt, she told Rohana once rebelliously, like a fish in a tree.

But I am not sixteen years old anymore? Why am I here?
She shifted her weight, and at the sharp stab of pain in her wounded shoulder, remembered. Where were her Terran companions? They had come late at night, she remembered, and she had told the servants at the gate to bear word to the Lady Rohana that her kinswoman had come to spend midwinter-night, bringing two friends. She remembered Rohana, graciously welcoming them all, and her dismay when she saw Jaelle’s bandaged face. The rest was blurred. Jaelle was lying in a big bed, wearing a long-sleeved nightgown, trimmed with lace at the neck and wrists. She supposed it belonged to Rohana, or to her daughter; she herself possessed no such garments, and it was too fine for a servant. One of the sleeves had been slit to accommodate the folds of bandage at her shoulder; her face, too, had been bandaged freshly. She looked around the room and saw a second bed near the window, and the Terran woman asleep in it, but at that moment Magda turned over and looked at her.

“You look better,” she said. “When you were carried up here the night before last, I thought you were dying.” Magda got out of bed and came to Jaelle’s side. She, too, was wearing one of the lace-trimmed gowns; though she was so tall it came only midway down her calves. Her dark short hair had been washed and was curling around her cheeks.

Jaelle said, “I really don’t remember anything after we got here; did you carry me here, or—” She hesitated, not remembering his Darkovan name, unwilling to use the Terran one where they might be overheard.

“No, dom Gabriel himself did you that honor.”

Jaelle smiled wryly. “Poor dom Gabriel! How my kinswoman’s husband dislikes me! Or, at least, dislikes having a Free Amazon in the family!”

“He seemed genuinely anxious about you,” Magda protested, and Jaelle laughed a little. “Oh, anything belonging to Rohana he will treat kindly—pet dogs, Free Amazons, even Terrans, I suppose.” She felt the smile stab ferocious pain through her bandaged face. “Does he know?”

“Rohana told him only that we were friends of yours,” Magda replied. “She warned me afterward that the house was full of midwinter guests, and we must be careful. Of course, when dom Kyril met Peter, he was tremendously curious. He asked who Peter was, and Peter told him his usual tale—that he was born in Caer Donn, that he did not know his father’s name. Dom Kyril said after that, ‘Having seen you, I think I could put a name to your father’s clan, at least.’ And, like you, he looked at once at his hands.”

Jaelle lay back, astonished at herself.
So weary, after sitting up only a few minutes?
Her shoulder throbbed as if it were afire. “Where is—where is he?”

“Asleep in the next room,” Magda said, pointing to the connecting door. “Lady Rohana apologized that she could give us only these rooms; I told her that in any case you should not be left alone at night. You slept all of yesterday; you did not wake even when domna Alida came to dress your wounds.”

“So I have lost a day,” Jaelle said. Now she remembered, fuzzily, how they had come here. Rumal di Scarp would be expecting them to head at once for Ardais; would find it suspicious if they turned in any other direction. In any case, Scaravel was blocked behind them by the snow. Magda had felt that since Lady Rohana had arranged this mission, she had a right to know of its success.

Jaelle remembered, too, how Peter had ridden at her side, had helped her whenever they stopped to rest the horses. Much of that time, she had been in a daze of pain and weariness, but she remembered how when they stopped, he had coaxed her to eat, and how, when she could no longer sit in her saddle without falling, he had taken her again before him on his saddle and held her against him. All else was blurred, but she could remember, with a sharp tactile memory, the feel of his arms around her. She had been ashamed of her weakness and secretly a little glad of it, for it let her lean against him, rest her head on his shoulder through the swaying dizziness of pain and fever …

She thought, with a sharp sting of guilt,
Appeal to no man for protection …
and closed her eyes, feeling tears of weakness sliding down her cheeks. She felt Magda’s gentle hand on her wrist. “I will let Lady Rohana know you are awake,” she said.

Rohana came before long, small and queenly in a fur-trimmed gown; she bent and kissed Jaelle on the cheek not covered with the bandage. “How are you feeling, my child? And how came you by this dreadful wound? Margali has told me very little, only that you fought for her.”

“I suppose she did not tell you that she saved my life,” Jaelle said, “nor that she is oath-bound to the Guild, and my sister.”

Rohana asked very seriously, “Is this allowed, my child, that a
Terranan
should be accepted by oath into the Guild?”

“The Guild-mothers must give the final decision on that,” Jaelle said, “but the Guild Charter excludes no woman; it is the oath, not the parentage, which makes an Amazon under the Charter. And my sister chose to honor her oath; to stay and fight for me, and to care for me afterward, when she could easily have abandoned me to die.”

Rohana said gently, “Then she is kinswoman here, too, my darling.” Relieved, Jaelle slipped back into exhausted sleep—or stupor—again, and over her head Rohana’s eyes met the Terran woman’s. “Someday you must tell me how this came about.”

“I am not sure myself,” Magda said with a troubled smile, “but I will honor my oath, whatever comes.”

“For her sake? Only for friendship?”

“No. Not entirely. Perhaps—” Magda hesitated, searching for words. “Perhaps because I have two worlds to serve, and I think I can best honor both loyalties this way.”

“And your husband? What will he say to this?”

“He is not my husband in law; we parted more than a year ago. Certainly he is not the keeper of my conscience.”

“I thought—” Rohana stopped. Like all telepaths, she had a horror of seeming to intrude in any personal matter. But it had seemed to her, when she met Magda in the Trade City, that the Terran woman was wholly committed to her former lover; and she had had misgivings when she saw Magda in Amazon garb. It had seemed to her that in spite of the spirit and strength she had admired, Magda was all too feminine for the part she must play. It had seemed to her that Magda was much like herself, committed to taking a man’s part for a woman’s reasons.

She felt completely at a loss; and that was a new sensation for Rohana. It also roused questions she thought she had settled, completely and without any doubts, years ago. She was glad to put her self-questioning aside when Magda asked, “Is it right for Jaelle to sleep so much? Is she worse than I feared?”

“I do not know: Alida says that neither wound is healing as it should. She will know more today.”

“It is my fault,” Magda said, looking down at Jaelle with dread. Asleep or unconscious again? “She exhausted herself trying to help us.”

Rohana’s hands closed very lightly over hers. Magda did not yet know enough of the telepath caste to know how very rare a gesture it was, or what trust it indicated. “My dear child, don’t blame yourself. Since Kindra died, there has been no one, no one at all who could make Jaelle do anything she did not want to do, or prevent her from doing her own will; so whatever she did was freely done.” She looked down at Jaelle with a detached, sad tenderness. She said, and Magda felt that Rohana was not really speaking to her at all, “In many ways she is dearer to me than my own daughter. Yet I have known for many years that I must let her take her own way.”

She turned to go. “Domna Alida will see her this morning; she is Tower-trained, and has great skill in such matters.” She went away.

Shortly after, Peter came through the connecting door. “How is Jaelle?” he asked, in a low, troubled voice.

Magda repeated what Rohana had said, and he shook his head, dismayed. “I hate to think she would put herself in such danger for us,” he said. “But listen to me, Magda; we have to leave here, as soon as we can. You know we can’t stay here for midwinter, as Lady Rohana expects, when there might be someone here who recognizes us!”

“Rohana won’t tell.”

“Perhaps not. But among the household there are two or three men from Caer Donn who may recognize me. … remember me from the days when Terrans and mountain men could mingle freely. If they do …”

Magda was sympathetic, but for the moment another concern seemed more important. She said, “I cannot go without Jaelle’s leave; perhaps I cannot go at all. Certainly I would not go while she is ill and needs me.” She flung at him, in sudden rage, “Does an oath mean nothing to you?”

“Not one wrested from you by force,” Peter said, “and in any case you had no right to give it. I know you were forced into it, but still—”

It was her own reasoning, and it made her angrier than ever, as he went on, persuasively, “I know you have always had a great love for pretending yourself Darkovan, and a pride in your skill at it. But there is a time to forget all that. Your first loyalty is to the Empire—do I have to remind you of that?”

He had taken her hands in his; she wrenched them away. “Then say I
chose!
I feel I can serve best this way, but if it comes to choice …!” She was trembling all over. He said, trying to conciliate, “I didn’t realize you felt like that; you know I would never interfere in a matter of conscience, Mag. But why does this girl mean so much to you? It’s not like you to have this kind of—this kind of emotional attitude over another woman. It’s not quite—” He hesitated, unwilling to say it, and Magda, guessing what he refused to say, was angry again.

“Think anything you damn please! If you believe that, you’ll believe anything!”