The White Robe (56 page)

Disturbed by the thought, she sat up and pulled the blanket higher around her, uncomfortable at having nothing to wear in bed. Trying to move her thoughts to something less depressing she studied the room with some disapproval. It was a sumptuous affair with long drapes covering the walls, several loungers with piles of cushions, and a huge bed with lacy curtains, ribbons and bows. She couldn’t recall seeing it when she had lived in the fortress, although she was certain she would have remembered it, as it was definitely not to her taste. Perhaps Borman had meant to please her by giving her these fancy rooms instead of returning her to the drab suite at the rear of the fortress. In the morning she would have to arrange for her personal belongings to be moved in and, if she could, some of the ribbons and bows to be moved out.

If Borman allowed, she could move Birrit in on a permanent basis as well and then she wouldn’t feel so alone. She started to redesign the room in her head but was startled when one of the drapes suddenly parted and Borman sauntered into the room. Hastily she pulled the blanket up higher and tried not to look like a startled hopper whilst her heart rate increased rapidly. He had changed from his formal wear into a long robe tied at the waist but lacking any other fastenings. He strolled over to the bed and looked down at her, a pleased smile on his face.

“Well, My Lady, what do you think to my special guest room? I had it decorated especially for my female visitors and so conveniently placed, don’t you think, next to my own sleeping chamber.”

“It’s very pretty, My Lord, only a little too frivolous for my taste.”

“That’s easily remedied. We can use my room; the bed is bigger and it has some interesting devices built in which might enhance my pleasure.”

She pulled the blanket still higher around her so only her head showed. “I don’t know what you can mean, My Lord.”

Borman continued to smile at her, a grin that made her blood run cold. “Don’t you? Then I’ll make it plain. I’ve come to sample the goods I have just bought.”

“But we are not yet married.”

He laughed. “That’s just a formality and so old fashioned. You didn’t really think I would wait until then, did you?”

He reached down and tried to pull the blanket out of her hands but she resisted so he slapped her sharply across her face with the back of his hand. Tarraquin gave a cry of shock and let go of the blanket as he ripped it from her hands, leaving her exposed on the bed.

Borman looked down, the smile gone from his face replaced by something much more feral. “Ah yes, very nice and as yet unblemished.” He reached down and took her breast in his hand squeezing it and then pulling on the nipple making her squirm and cry out. “Malingar tells me you are a virgin, so I’m really going to enjoy this.”

He pulled the tie at his waist so that the robe came open and then fell to the ground exposing his raised manhood. With a chuckle of anticipation he climbed onto her, forcing her legs apart with his knee and lent across her body taking her breast into his mouth and biting down hard. Tarraquin gasped under his weight and the pain in her breast and then cried out as he thrust himself inside of her, grunting with pleasure, harder and faster until he came to a climax. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed so she didn’t have to look at him, her only thoughts, the advice Sheevar had given her a lifetime ago.

When he had finished he rolled off her and picked his robe up off the floor giving her one last look before replacing the blanket over her naked body. “Yes, very nice though it’s a pity you can only be a virgin once. Tomorrow night you’ll come to my bed and we’ll try something different.”

He draped the robe over his shoulders and left the same way as he had entered, closing the drapes behind him.

~   ~   ~   ~   ~

Duty and Devotion

Jonderill came to the conclusion that he didn’t like living in the fortress. The place was always dark and cold and even when he was sitting by the fire he felt chilled to the bone, which was odd because his white robe should have kept him warm. He knew it wasn’t just the cold; there was something about the place which seemed to suck the life out of him, leaving him feeling hollow and dispirited. Of course it wasn’t the fault of the fortress at all; after all it was only stone and wood. Perhaps it was the changes in his life which made him feel as if, somewhere, he had taken a wrong turning, and his road was taking him somewhere dark and dreary, when he actually wanted to find somewhere where the sun shone and the birds sang.

It wasn’t just him either; Tissian had been quiet and tense, jumping at shadows and challenging anyone who came near his master. They had talked about their feelings and had both come to the same conclusion; life had changed for them the first day they had come in sight of Tarmin’s city walls. He would have liked to have talked to Callabris about it, but that was another problem. Since the incident with the escaped prisoners they had only spoken once and then very briefly.

Like everyone else in the fortress he had been commanded to watch the torture and execution of Istan and the others. It had been a sickening spectacle, and he had felt both guilty for being the cause of such suffering and relieved that Jarrul had been spared such a grisly end. Callabris had stopped him as they were leaving the execution and he had expected a lecture on the consequences of interfering in other people’s lives. Instead Callabris had put his arm around his shoulders and told him not to mourn his friend as not everything was always what it seemed.

If Callabris had thought to comfort him he was mistaken; all his words had done was to confuse him and make him feel even more depressed. He hadn’t seen Callabris since then, tied up as he was with the king’s business, but Tissian had spoken with Allowyn and it was he who had told them about this small, hidden courtyard. It was enclosed, mostly cobbled and a bit of an oddity really. Apart from the front courtyard and the stables, there were no open areas behind the walls of the fortress, but this one existed, tucked away in a corner where the fortress wall met the city wall at an angle.

A single, white bark tree with green tinged, silver leaves grew through a hole in the cobbled yard and several clay pots contained plants with colourful leaves but no flowers. He supposed that as the sun only topped the surrounding walls each day for just a candle length or two, flowers wouldn’t stand much chance of blooming. One thing was certain though; someone else apart from Allowyn knew about the courtyard as the small patch of earth around the tree was free of weeds and the plants were fresh and well watered.

For a while he had watched Tissian practice, his movements cramped by the confined space in the courtyard, and his face dark with a scowl of concentration. Tissian hadn’t said anything but he knew that the strain of constantly being on his guard and inside the walls of the fortress was wearing him down. Of course they could have ridden out of the city with an armed escort, but he couldn’t see the point and Tissian would not permit others, apart from himself, to watch his devotions. Instead he sat with his back against the wall, his thoughts as thick and as tangled as soggy wool and Tissian stood guard at the door.

A commotion by the door made him look up as Tissian confronted two guards in Northshield livery. He recognised the men from the executions; they were the ones who had stood at Rastor’s side and had held the prisoners whilst the Guardcaptain had hacked off their heads. Without much interest he watched as Tissian faced up to them like a fighting cock, and was then surprised to see them suddenly leave and his protector bow and step back to let two cloaked figures into the courtyard. Perhaps the courtyard belonged to these two and they were the ones who cared for the plants. He hoped they wouldn’t want him to leave; he really didn’t want to go back to his cold room and cheerless fire.

The two strangers crossed to where he sat on the wooden bench by the wall and the taller of the two slipped back her hood. He stared at her certain that he knew her from somewhere but his dull mind just couldn’t place her.

“Jonderill?” He knew the voice too but still couldn’t think who she was. “It is you, Jonderill. Don’t you recognise me? It’s Tarraquin.”

Now he remembered, or nearly remembered. She had saved him from something or someone in the past or something like that. Suddenly the memory of a girl with long auburn hair telling him that one day she would be his wife flashed through his mind and he jumped to his feet and gave her a big smile.

“Lady Tarraquin! My apologies, my mind is like mud these days. Come and sit down, you don’t look well.” He took her cold hands and helped her to sit on the stone bench next to him. Tears started to fall from her eyes making him squirm nervously; dealing with weeping women was something of which he had no experience. “What’s the matter, My Lady? Is it something I can help with?”

Tarraquin shook her head, too upset to speak, but Birrit didn’t have that problem, so she pushed back her hood and told him the whole sorry tale, including the way Borman was treating her mistress.

Tissian left his place by the door to listen as well, his hands gripping his swords as if he were about to use them on someone. “Master, what are we going to do about this?” he asked angrily. “We cannot leave the lady and her maid here; it’s only a matter of time before Borman will forget himself and go too far, then the lady’s life will be worth nothing.”

“You’re right, Tissian, what do you suggest?”

“We have to get them away from Borman and this place as soon as we can, tonight if possible.”

Tarraquin looked up and wiped her eyes. “You can’t. I’m guarded wherever I go by Rastor’s thugs and even if I could get away from them and out of the city, Borman would send one of his cursed white robes after me and that would make things worse for everyone.”

Jonderill shook his head trying to understand what she was talking about. “Why would Callabris go after you?”

She looked at him in surprise. “Don’t you know? It was Callabris who tracked Istan and the others down and murdered Jarrul.”

He gave a groan of anguish and put his head in his hands. It had been bad enough that Callabris had used his magic to help Borman enter Tarmin unopposed and despite the magician’s explanation he still thought that Callabris had been wrong. But to then track down the innocent men that Callabris knew he had rescued, murder his friend and watch the others being tortured and killed was a misuse of Federa’s gift and a betrayal that he could never forgive.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. It seems that these past days my mind has been dull and I have missed so much of what has been going on, but that is about to change.” He stood, looking determined. “I don’t like what Callabris has done, so I’m going to put a stop to it and if I can, I will make up for some of the evil things he has been doing with his magic. My Lady, do you remember the hidden passageway I told you about last time we met?” Tarraquin nodded. “We’ll use that as our escape route. It was the way I helped Istan and Jarrul to get out of the fortress and once we are away from here I know somewhere we can hide where they won’t find us.”

Tarraquin shook her head. “But how are you going to do this? It’s impossible, I’m guarded all the time”

There was a sudden noise as the wooden door in the wall opened and Rastor’s two guards stepped into the courtyard. They gave Jonderill a disdainful look and beckoned the two women to follow them. Tissian moved swiftly in front of his master and the lady to give them some final moments of privacy and Jonderill helped Tarraquin to her feet and held her closely to him so they wouldn’t be overheard.

“Don’t worry about that, I will just have to use some magic.”

She looked startled; noticing for the first time what he was wearing and pulling away from him as if he was a venomous sand crawler. “You’re the other white robe who serves Borman, another damned Callabris!”

“No, My Lady, nothing like Callabris.” From the corner of his eye he could see Tissian starting to draw his swords and knew their time was up. He held up a restraining hand to his protector and gave Tarraquin a smile of encouragement. “You’d better go now before there is trouble, but be brave and give Borman no reason to hurt you; I’ll come for you as soon as I can.”

He watched the two women cross the courtyard towards the waiting guards and Tarraquin’s maid stopping to have a quick word with Tissian before leaving with their escort behind them. Once the door was closed, Jonderill sat back down on the bench, the energy and determination draining out of him like wine out of a punctured skin and his lethargy returning. “Ah, Tissian, I think I’ve done something unkind without meaning to. I’ve given the lady some hope of reprieve when I’ve no idea how I’m going to do what I’ve promised. If only my mind would work properly, I might be able to think of something but at the moment it’s beyond me.”

“At least I know where the lady is being held.” Jonderill looked up in surprise. “Her maid is a smart one. She told me where their rooms are and where to leave messages which others won’t be able to find. With that arrangement in place we can tell them of our plans when we have them made.”

“If we’ve made them.”

Tissian scowled, his master’s pessimism starting to wear on his nerves as much as having to be on his guard all the time in this cursed place. In fact many things were starting to wear at him, most of all being caged up in the fortress and not being able to practice his forms or make his devotions. He needed to get out and exercise and fight someone who would challenge him and he needed to talk to Allowyn.

“Master, you look tired. It’s time you returned to your rooms to sleep.”

Jonderill looked up in surprise. His protector never told him what to do, and he knew he should object to Tissian giving him orders, but on this occasion he was right, he was tired. At least if he was asleep he wouldn’t have to think about saving Tarraquin from the unwanted attentions of the king. He nodded in agreement and followed Tissian back to his rooms, slumping onto his bed and closing his eyes. Tissian covered him with a blanket, collected his armour from the corner of the room and left. He wondered what the punishment was for a protector who left his master unguarded without his leave. It wasn’t something he knew the answer to, but Allowyn would.

*

Tissian staggered backwards under the sword blow, struggling to maintain his balance on the uneven ground and keep his defensive position at the same time under Allowyn’s relentless attack. They had practiced their forms together and honoured the goddess for two candle lengths before moving on to battle practice where Tissian’s lack of extended exercise was beginning to show. But it was more than that. It was as if Allowyn had a need in him that could only be satisfied by battering something into the ground, and so far, he was doing a good job of it. Tissian was holding his own but only just.

What he needed to do was counter attack to relieve the pressure of his opponent’s constant battering, but Allowyn moved so fast that by the time he had seen an opening and made a move, the opening had gone and one of Allowyn’s blades was there instead. He had already called to yield once when Allowyn had almost battered him into the ground, but the protector had not responded, which was not unusual, he often pressed for more effort, but Tissian was concerned that the next time he called to yield that would be ignored too.

He wasn’t the only one who was concerned. At the edge of the clearing, Dozo watched the battle practice with a frown of worry on his face. He had watched Allowyn’s battle practice many times and had seen him fight with Tissian a dozen times or more, but this didn’t look anything like the usual skills practice and instruction he had seen before. Tissian was doing his best to hold Allowyn at bay, but his mentor was ruthless, battering at his defences as if he wanted to pound the youth into the ground. A few moments ago he swore he had heard Tissian shout yield, but if he had his opponent had ignored it.