‘Come along, eat,’ Garante said briskly.
Rav sidled up to a chair and sat down, regarding the meal before him with a dry mouth. He wanted to cry but felt he shouldn’t in front of his guardian. He could tell that Garante was perplexed and upset by finding Caradore empty. He hadn’t believed what Tayven had said about Rav’s father. He’d thought there would be an explanation awaiting him here. Rav knew little of the complexity of loyalties, but recognised that Garante was torn. He was a Magravandian, a devotee of Madragore, and now the man he served had been proved to be a traitor. Perhaps he would consider it his duty to take Rav back to Magrast now, or even kill him. Rav couldn’t eat. He stared at his plate in misery, fighting tears.
‘Rav,’ Garante began sternly, then paused. ‘I know you’re worried,’ he said in a softer tone, ‘but you’ve got to be strong now. We must eat and then leave. It’s dangerous to linger.’
‘You’re angry,’ Rav said.
Garante did not answer at once. ‘I have a responsibility to you,’ he said eventually. ‘I swore to keep you safe and I will do as I promised. I can’t pretend I’m happy to discover the allegations against your father are true, but neither can I go back on my word. I will deliver you to him and then consider my future actions. You must not be afraid of me, Rav. There are too many other things for you to fear.’ He managed a smile. ‘Come on, now. Eat. We have a long ride ahead of us.’
They were not able to leave as quickly as Garante hoped. Jomas reported that a local farmer would be happy for one of his sons to take them north, but that they’d have to wait until the late afternoon for the youth to return from the hills, where he and his brothers were rounding up sheep. Garante was not pleased by this news. ‘The Fire Chamber is bound to guess I’d bring you here,’ he said, thinking aloud. ‘We’d only have had a few hours’ lead on them, if that, and their horses will be faster. If anything, they should have overtaken us by now.’
‘Then perhaps they’re not coming,’ Rav said.
‘If they’re not,’ Garante said, ‘then it means they’re planning something worse. The full might of the army could soon be marching on Old Caradore, then Madragore help your father.’ He stared at Rav and shook his head. ‘If I were a true guardian, I’d take you far from here, to somewhere where you’ll never be found.’
‘I want to go to my father,’ Rav said.
Garante expressed a deep sigh. ‘But what am I sending you to, eh? That’s the question.’
‘They’ll not kill me,’ Rav said, and he wasn’t sure where the words came from. He simply knew them to be true.
Before the farmer’s son arrived, the sound of clattering hooves rang out upon the road approaching the castle. Garante and Rav were standing on the battlements above the gates, Garante scanning the road to the south nervously. Jomas had joined them, and was relating many tales of his youthful exploits. Rav found the familiar stories comforting, but it was clear Garante hadn’t heard a word. Now, at the sound of horses, he hissed the old man into silence. ‘Not many,’ Garante said, his voice tense. ‘If this is trouble, then you and I should be able to take them, with the help of these walls.’ He thumped the thick stone as if to test their mettle. ‘Bring long bows. It’s our only chance.’
Without a word, Jomas hobbled off to search for weapons.
The thick trees hid the approaching riders until they reached the village at the castle walls. There were only two and Rav quickly recognised them. ‘It’s Tayven and Sinaclara!’ he cried, virtually jumping on the spot. ‘Let them in, Garante. Let them in!’
Garante leapt down the steps that led to the yard and raised the portcullis. Tayven and Sinaclara rode into the courtyard on sleek thoroughbred horses, which perhaps explained why they’d caught up so quickly. Rav threw himself at Tayven as soon as he dismounted, filled with a relief so profound it was beyond words or feeling. After the greetings were over, Tayven spoke to the stern-faced Garante. ‘What happened here?’
‘Palindrake has fled,’ Garante said. ‘We intend to follow him.’
‘He has gone to Old Caradore,’ Sinaclara said. ‘I knew he would.’
‘Yes,’ Garante confirmed. He glanced severely at Tayven. ‘The Fire Chamber is correct in its assumptions, it seems. Palindrake intends to make a stand at his family’s old domain.’
‘Thank you for bringing Rav here,’ Tayven said. ‘If you wish, you can return to Magrast now. There is no point in compromising your position further, if it isn’t necessary.’
‘It is neither your place to thank me for my actions nor to discharge me of my duties,’ Garante snapped. ‘We will travel together. Rav is my responsibility, not yours.’
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Stolen Time
Coming down out of the mountains of High Hamagara was like waking from a narcotic dream. As the road descended, so the land became more populated: first villages, then towns, and traffic upon the great road that led to the northern sea.
Varencienne savoured these last stages of her travels. Not only was she going home to Caradore, but Khaster was escorting her there. She had stopped referring to him as Taropat, and he had voiced no objection. Ellony and Shan had not changed the way they addressed him, however. Varencienne could not imagine what would transpire when he returned home. He had a wife there, a grieving family, another life. These would be the last quiet weeks for a long time, Varencienne thought. There were emotional battles to face, as well as physical combat.
The Hamagarid ladies and their families did everything possible to make the journey comfortable for their unexpected companions. Ellony and Varencienne travelled in one of the carriages with the other women, while Shan and Khaster rode with the men, on horses decked out in tasselled livery.
For the first few days after leaving Hanana, the group camped out, now in much more luxurious accommodation than Varencienne and the others had endured upon the way. The merchants’ servants would erect a small village of spacious peaked tents and then build a fire, where the evening meal would be cooked. After eating, everyone would sit around the fire and talk. At these times, the Hamagarids showed interest in the affairs of the outside world, and asked questions about them. For the first time, Varencienne encountered what appeared to be curiosity in a Hamagarid. There was something in their manner that suggested they were more concerned about the manoeuvres of the empire than she’d first thought. But these people were traders, not holy ascetics. Civil war, either in the eastern continent of Cos and beyond, or south in Caradore and Magravandias, would affect their livelihoods.
Lady Patar’s eldest son, Purna, showed great interest in befriending Khaster and Shan. Amused by it, Varencienne thought the youth saw the fair-skinned foreigners as exotic and strange. They had visited many far lands and, after consuming vast quantities of the walnut liquor the rich Hamagarids favoured, were disposed to talk about their adventures. To Varencienne, Purna was one of the most exotic people she’d ever met. He was around eighteen years old, with black hair plaited to his waist and a sculpted face with high cheekbones and the large dark eyes of a stag. His proud bearing and inscrutable expressions were those of a noble warrior shaman, yet in the men’s company he became more amiable.
One evening, as they waited for the servants to erect the pavilions in a fragrant grove, Lady Sikim told Varencienne, with obvious relief, that this would be the last night they’d have to sleep outdoors. Now that summer had truly come to Hamagara, Varencienne enjoyed camping out. She felt close to the land, sensitive to its moods and textures. The idea of comfortable inns and carefully prepared meals no longer held the appeal they once had. She also felt that out in the wilderness she was becoming closer to Khaster. In the evenings, he would catch her eye across the fire and smile. It was as if they shared a secret, and perhaps they did. She sensed he saw her properly as a woman now and so many times wanted to speak bluntly to him about it, but was afraid of being too forward, which might scare him off. She must nurture their relationship slowly, be patient with him. Bu
t the end of their journey was so close and Valraven waited at the end of it. She knew Khaster would not touch her then. It would take all of his strength for him to steel himself for the inevitable meeting. Then there was Shan, her staunch ally, a true friend who wanted only to be her lover. Why is it, Varencienne thought, that the people who are best for us are rarely the ones to capture our hearts?
That last night, while the murmuring forest exuded its panoply of fragrances into the warm night and fireflies were brief stars among the swaying branches, Varencienne watched Khaster carefully. She felt that a nexus point was approaching. His face was thoughtful in the orange light and his arms were wrapped around his raised knees. He looked young and innocent and seemed to be conducting a great debate within himself. A pang of pure nameless emotion pulsed through Varencienne’s heart. This was one of the timeless moments that are never forgotten. Perhaps Khaster was conscious of her scrutiny, because he rose to his feet and went into the shadow of the trees. Once, he glanced back.
Varencienne held her breath. She could go after him. He might want her to do so. Or, he might only be leaving the fire to obey a call of nature. She hesitated, argued with herself, a dozen unlikely scenarios flashing through her mind. Then she caught Shan’s eye across the fire. He was watching her as closely as she had observed Khaster. She smiled at him weakly but he did not smile back.
Lady Sikim tapped Varencienne’s shoulder, then launched into a description of the inn they would stay at the following evening. Varencienne could barely concentrate on the woman’s words. She was thinking of Khaster walking soft-footed through the forest. If he was waiting for her, and she did not follow, she might never get the chance again. Impatience and anxiety built up within her. Eventually, Varencienne got to her feet, avoiding Shan’s gaze, which she sensed fell immediately upon her. Pleading she needed to excuse herself for a moment, Varencienne hurried into the trees. Don’t you dare follow me, Shan, she thought angrily.
It would soon become clear she had not left the fire simply to relieve herself.
For some minutes she followed a path near to where she had seen Khaster disappear. He had to have come this way. She was so tense, she could barely draw breath. How should she approach him? With laughter or with silence? What would he desire most? All she wanted to do was to offer herself to him, to give him love and physical comfort and pleasure. He had been alone for too long.
Moonlight came down through the trees, lighting her path before her. She thought she heard the murmur of a human voice and paused. Silence. Perhaps he was praying aloud. Carefully she crept forward. The path had narrowed and thick-trunked trees huddled close together, their roots reaching out to one another through the earth. Varencienne had to tread carefully. It would be easy to trip in the spectral light. Now she could hear the sound of running water. As she proceeded, the sound became louder and she could see that ahead the trees opened out into a natural glade, where a narrow waterfall fell over a low, fern-covered cliff into a pool. She caught a glimpse of something pale, his shirt perhaps. He must have come here to think clearly, comforted by the beauty of the forest. She could not bear to contemplate his loneliness, but would indulge herself and watch him for a while from the shadow of the trees.
Slowly, she stole forward, her heart beating almost painfully in her breast. The night was not chill, but her hot breath steamed upon the air.
Then she heard laughter. He was not alone.
Variencienne’s pounding heart seemed to still within her and heat fled her body. She felt physically sick, but had to see. There could be any explanation. She crouched down in the dusty branches of a rhododendron and peered into the glade.
Khaster sat with Purna beside the pool, talking animatedly in a low voice. Varencienne slumped in relief, but was unsure whether she should show herself or not. Clearly, with someone else present, she could not voice her desires. The boy really was an annoyance. He should have kept away. Perhaps Khaster would get rid of him soon.
The conversation in the glade had fallen silent. Khaster might be formulating a way to send Purna away. But Purna did not appear to be discouraged. He lifted his long plait of hair and began to unravel it. Khaster just watched him. Varencienne experienced a chill of dread.
Purna shook his head and his entire upper body was enveloped in a shawl of shining hair. Khaster reached out to touch it, ran it through his fingers. Then he leaned forward, put his hand behind Purna’s head and pulled it towards him. They kissed.
Half blind with frustration and regret, Varencienne scrambled backwards through the foliage, uncaring of whether she made any noise or not. She ran back onto the path and did not stop running until she reached the edge of the trees, where she could see the glow of the fire. Here, she paused and pressed her hands against her face. ‘Stupid, stupid, stupid,’ she murmured aloud. Her flesh felt hot again now, but with embarrassment. Thank Foy she hadn’t reached Khaster before Purna did. A number of excruciating consequences flashed across her mind. She couldn’t bear it. But then she realised they must have planned it all earlier and that Purna had been there waiting for Khaster. That was what he’d been thinking about by the fire. She must not let this affect her. Khaster was healing himself. She should be happy for him. Hadn’t she told him her love was unconditional?
She smoothed her hair and walked back towards the fire. Shan turned to look at her and she managed to smile. She went to sit beside him. ‘I thought you’d got lost,’ he said.
She shook her head. ‘No. I was just walking around. It’s beautiful here.’
‘Yes, it is,’ he said. ‘Very romantic.’
Varencienne saw again the scene beside the pool: two beautiful creatures about to make love in the most glorious landscape imaginable. But it should have been her. Why hadn’t she spoken to Khaster before? They had been close. She had felt a mutual attraction between them, but caution and reticence had caused her to miss the tide. Someone else, who was clearly more forward, had sailed upon it. Despite her concentrated effort to be cheerful, sorrow welled up in her heart and overwhelmed her. She felt tears come to her eyes and was unable to suppress them.
Shan peered at her. ‘Are you all right? What’s the matter?’
Again, Varencienne shook her head. She could not speak.
Shan put his arm around her and pulled her close. Her emotions took control. She wept against him, as silently as she could. Shan made a wordless sound of concern, kissed the top of her head. ‘Are you worried about the future, Ren?’
She nodded against him.
‘You’re so strong. You’ll be fine. This land, and all that happened here, was just a dream. We always knew it was. We should simply be grateful for the experience.’
Varencienne couldn’t help laughing weakly. That was exactly the sort of thing she’d say.
‘You have never wept once before,’ Shan said wistfully. Then his arm became stiff against her and his voice was hard. ‘Ren, why are you crying?’
She pulled away from him, scrubbed at her face. I don’t know really,’ she said shakily. ‘I was just overcome.’
‘Where’s Taropat?’
‘How should I know?’
Shan drew in his breath through his nose and Varencienne realised a hurt silence was presaged. ‘He’s with Purna,’ she said irritably. ‘I saw them, and yes, that’s why I’m crying.’
Shan stared at her fiercely.
‘I woke him up, Shan. Don’t you realise that? Khaster has come back, but he doesn’t see me.’
‘Don’t ask me to comfort you about this,’ Shan said. ‘Just don’t.’
‘I wouldn’t,’ she said, ‘but I respect you enough to tell you the truth. I care for you, Shan. You’re my rock.’
‘I thought I was your lover,’ he said. ‘I thought I’d have to deliver you back to your husband, who it seems I must serve, not watch you make a fool of yourself with my mentor.’ He smiled coldly. ‘Taropat – Khaster – doesn’t want you, Ren. That’s what hurts, isn’t
it. You brought him back to life as he really is – the man who fell in love with Tayven Hirantel. How ironic.’
‘He’s never loved anybody. He told me so.’
‘That’s right,’ Shan said sarcastically.
‘And I have not made a fool of myself.’ She sneered at him. ‘I thought you were my friend. I thought you understood. But it’s all about male jealousy, isn’t it.’ She realised they had attracted the attention of some of the Hamagarids by the fire. This was not desirable. ‘I’m going to sleep,’ she said and stood up.
‘Sweet dreams, princess,’ Shan said.
Varencienne went to the tent she shared with the others. Ellony wasn’t in bed yet, and would no doubt be out chattering with her new Hamagarid friends for hours. Varencienne indulged herself in the act of crying herself to sleep, wrapped in a warm if prickly cocoon of self pity. When someone shook her roughly awake, it took some time for sleep to fall from her body.
‘Whatc?’ She pushed the hair from her eyes, expecting to see Shan. She didn’t want a fight. But it was not Shan.
‘Val?’
Her husband stood over her, his dark hair hanging down. He looked at her with affection. ‘Ren, it’s me, yes. We have to speak.’
She sat up. ‘How did you find me? What’s happened?’
He squatted down beside her. ‘I’m not really here, Ren. I’ve just come to give you a message.’
She reached out and touched him. ‘You are really here, Val!’
He shook his head. ‘You’re dreaming and I’ve invaded your dream, taken control of it.’ He laughed. ‘You won’t believe how much I’ve learned since we last saw each other.’
‘You seem very different.’ She had never heard him laugh so freely before. His face appeared less severe.
‘I am. I’ve taken the family and the Leckerys to Old Caradore. You must come to me. Bring Khaster and Shan with you. As soon as you can. Bayard will come there with the Magravandian army. We all need to be together, for only in unified strength can we win this battle. I need the Brotherhood of the True King around me.’