“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 f
ormer 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!”
“Mag, I didn’t say I believed-”
“You’re a fool, Peter,” she said in disgust. “Do you really believe no woman could be loyal to another woman out of common humanity and integrity? Jaelle saved my life; and do I have to remind you that if she had not risked hers to cross Scaravel Pass with an unhealed wound, you would still be counting the days to midwinter-night in Rumal’s dungeons? And you want me to leave her, not even knowing if she will live or die, or be scarred for life?”
“Do you need to remain? I thought these people were her closest kinfolk!”
“Yes,” Magda said, “but by oath she has had to renounce all her kinfolk; as her oath-daughter I am the closest kin she has beneath this roof.” She said this with absolute certainty, knowing that, in spite of Rohana’s deep affection for Jaelle, she would have said the same thing. Rohana had taken it for granted that Magda had a duty, and a right, to stay with Jaelle and care for her; more than Rohana’s own right. Camilla had said, jesting, that Rohana was still ignorant about the ways of Free Amazons. But she had her finger on the very pulse of what they meant to one another; more, Magda knew, than she herself did.
Peter’s anger had been short-lived, as always. He said, “Probably you know best, Mag; you usually do. And midwinter-feast is the time for hospitality; probably a couple of extra guests will never be noticed.” He walked to Jaelle’s side, and stood looking down at her.
“How beautiful she is,” he said softly, “or how beautiful she would be, without that terrible scar! How could a woman like that renounce love and marriage?”
Jaelle opened her unbandaged eye; her vision was blurry and unfocused. She said, “It is not love we renounce … only marriage … bondage …” she stretched out her hand, and Peter knelt beside the bed, taking her hand in his. Her eyes fell shut again, but she kept hold of him.
He was still kneeling there when the door opened again and Lady Rohana came in, with dom Gabriel’s sister, who had been described to Magda as a leronis. The title translated, usually, as “sorceress” or “wise-woman”; Magda suspected it meant, in this case, “healer.” Her name was Alida. She was a small, slight woman with flaming red hair, younger by some years than Rohana, and with a kind of indefinable arrogance which made Magda, for some reason, think of Lorill Hastur.
Lady Alida inclined her head in the faintest of courteous greetings to Magda. She ignored Peter. She pulled back Jaelle’s blankets and began to unfasten the cutaway nightgown; then looked, in unmistakable command, at Peter. He had been brought up in the mountains near Caer Donn and understood perfectly well; actually it was even somewhat scandalous that he should have been in the room when Magda was not fully dressed. He let go Jaelle’s hand, but she quickly clasped it again, opening her eyes.
She said, “I want him to stay!” She sounded like a child, and Magda wondered if she were delirious again.
Lady Alida shrugged. “Stay, then, if she wants you. But take her other hand, and keep out of my way.” Peter obeyed, and Alida, with some minor help from Rohana, got the bandages undone to examine the ugly wounds. Even Magda could see that they were not healing properly, but were swollen and festered. The clean slash on the face had spread and reddened, the nick in the eyelid so swollen that Jaelle’s eye was shut.
“This is a poisoned wound! How came she by it?”
Briefly, Magda recounted their fight with the bandits. Lady Alida made a fastidious grimace. “That is no work for women!”
Jaelle flushed with anger. She said pettishly, “I do not need to be told you do not approve of my way of life, kinswoman, but courtesy should prevent you from insulting my sister and guest before me!”
Rohana said in haste, “Alida meant no offense-did you, kinswoman?”
Alida paid no attention to either of them. “What has happened to your wound, mestra?”
After a moment Magda realized that she was being addressed, and pushed up the long sleeve of the nightgown she was wearing. “It is healing.”
“But not as it should,” Alida said, her light, cold fingers gently touching the red seam, still puckered and inflamed. “A cut like this should long be closed and sealed, with not even an itch remaining. This still gives you some pain, I can tell-does it not?”
“Yes, a little,” Magda said. She had so little experience with such cuts that she had thought it natural. She saw Peter looking up, in surprise and consternation, at her bare ar
m and the red seam there, and she pushed her sleeve down to cover it.
Alida said, “Jaelle must have been wounded first, and got most of the poison.”
Rohana sounded anxious. “Can you help it, Alida?”
“Oh certainly. I learned to treat such wounds at Neskaya Tower; it is nothing much. You were Tower-trained in Dalereuth as a girl; can you monitor for me?”
Rohana nodded. “Certainly.”
But Rohana watched, faintly troubled, as Alida uncovered her matrix jewel. She knew she should send the two Terrans away. This, she knew, was one reason why Lorill Hastur had interdicted any serious contact between Terran and Darkovan; he was unwilling they should learn anything about the ancient matrix sciences. Yet, if she should make a point of dismissing Magda and Peter from the room now, she must explain why.
She had told no one here that they were Terrans, but she was sure Gabriel guessed. When he had seen Peter’s almost unbelievable likeness to their son Kyril, and heard that he was the prisoner from Sain Scarp, he must have known; but he did not really want to know, Rohana realized, that she had gone against his wishes again. Because then I would have to tell him, in so many words, that he is not the keeper of my conscience; and even now I do not think Gabriel wants to know that in a way he cannot pretend to ignore.
And the woman, Magda, was Jaelle’s oath-sister and had a right to remain. As for the man-she saw Jaelle clinging to his hand, saw the tenderness in his eyes, and knew what neither of them knew themselves, as yet.
“Put that away. Lady Alida. I will have none of your sorcery,” Jaelle said weakly.
“I must, child. There is poison in the wound and it is spreading to your eye; it can damage your sight. If I do not treat it now …”
“I do not care,” said Jaelle in great agitation. “I will not allow-”