And there the sweet dream would end, and I would cry myself to sleep.
My world changed in my twenty-fourth year. Hadron, rest his soul, finally had enough of raising horses and a daughter with no prospects. He died at midsummer, and Jamie and I laid him in the ground high on the hill overlooking the north fields.
After Hadron’s death his lands and goods came to me, which shocked me to the bone. I had always thought Jamie or Walther would be his heir, but in death Hadron was more gracious than ever he had been in life. I was amazed by the extent of his lands, many of which I had never seen, and by the wealth he had gained. I knew well enough how to run the place—I had been Jamie’s right hand for years—but the sheer size of it all took me by surprise. I still thought of Jamie as my master, and he still taught and helped me in those first months, but to my chagrin I found that I was blessed as well with a valuable steward in my cousin Walther.
Walther had for many years now made his peace with me, though I could never forgive him for siding with Hadron in keeping me caged. It did not help that even as a child I found him dull and a little slow. All his thoughts were of the farm; his one fond wish had ever been to become as good a breeder and trainer of horses as his uncle. He had not known what his place would be when Hadron died, but since working for me did not seem to concern him I never mentioned it.
Hadron’s death came just as he was starting to prepare for the Great Fair, and with him gone there was more to do than hands to do it. There were a good dozen of the horses old enough, broken in and ready to be sold this year. Hadron and Jamie had always gone to Illara, but Hadron’s part now fell to me as the heir. If I had been a little less tired I would have been delighted at the prospect of finally seeing the King’s Seat of Ilsa. As it was, grief and weariness outweighed all else. I did not pretend to mourn Hadron greatly, but I felt his loss, and grieved quietly to myself that I had cared so little for my own father. In great part, though, I must admit that I felt a weary weight lifted from my shoulders.
I could see no further than that until the night before we left, when my eyes began to open.
The horses had just been brought into the barn for the night. We would have to rise early to begin the journey—the fair was in a fortnight’s time and we would travel most of that, Jamie and I and the three farmhands who were coming to help with the horses. Still, the night before leaving had always been exciting even when I was not going on the journey; a time of ending and beginning, full of promise and change. Jamie had already gone to his bed and the other hands to their lodging. Walther and I had just finished the last chores, and I was trudging across the paving stones of the courtyard when he laid a hand on my arm and stopped me in the torchlight, saying he had something to ask me.
“What is it?” I asked, wondering why we had to stop walking. I was filthy and exhausted and wanted a bath and my bed in the worst way.
“Lanen, I—it’s been six weeks since Hadron died. There’s been no man around here but me to look after you, and…”
He had to wait while I laughed. “You’ve a curious sense of things, Walther. None but Jamie has ‘looked after me’ for twenty years. Why should someone start because Hadron died? Besides, I’ve yet to meet a man who wanted the honour, and none I wished to give it to.” I moved on towards the house.
“What about me?” said Walther loudly.
That stopped me.
“What about you?” I asked as kindly as I could, turning back to face him. All women have a sense that warns them of such things. I was shocked—he was all but betrothed to Alisonde from the village—but I could smell it coming and was desperately trying to think of how to get out of it without being too mean. I didn’t like him, but some things demand mercy.
“Marry me, Lanen,” he said quietly, moving close to me. He smelt of the stables even stronger than I did. “I’ll not pretend there’s more between us than there is, and I—I’ll not demand a husband’s rights, but you need a man to look after—to run the place for you. You know everything I do, but you haven’t the touch.”
That was true enough. I never was interested in horses the way he was, certainly, save perhaps when a mare was in labour. Still, even in my anger I nearly smiled to myself. Poor Walther always thought he was so subtle.
“Walther, this is so sudden,” I said, unable to keep an edge from my voice. “What would Alisonde say? She deserves better of you than this.”
He looked down. “She will understand.”
If it had been morning, broad daylight, I might have held my peace and simply refused him; in the flickering torchlight at the end of a long day I let my armour slip. “Aye,” I sneered. “She loves you well enough to take a mistress’ place, as long as you never behave as true husband to your wife. What a charming life you offer me, Walther! Marriage without love or the comfort of your body, where you bring no more than my father’s knowledge of horses as a bride-price.” I knew the progress of my own anger by now, and tried to stop before my temper got the best of me.
He sounded only vaguely guilty at being found out. “Lanen, you don’t understand—”
“Save your breath to fan the fire,” I snapped. “You meant nothing else. You spent too much time with Hadron, you’re beginning to sound like him.” I stopped my words there, but I couldn’t stop my memories. Years, too many years of Hadron’s neglect, too many times being told I was too plain, or too tall, or too manlike, or simply not good enough to be my father’s daughter, piled on top of me like so much stone, and just when I was beginning to learn my worth and value my solitude, Walther, Walther of all people, insults me like this. I stood and fumed, I could feel my eyes dancing with fury in the torchlight. “Why can’t you just marry her and stay here?” I snarled, my last valiant attempt to speak reasonably.
He was long silent; when he finally spoke his words had to fight their way past a knot of anger in his throat as great as the one in mine. “And live my life as your paid servant? No thank you, cousin,” he growled. “I haven’t the money to go elsewhere and start fresh. I thought I could be your man, since you don’t seem to need one like a real woman, and I could have the place and Alisonde, too.”
That did it. I gave no warning, just drew back and hit him. I am only a little under six feet tall and strong with it, and Jamie’s lessons were not wasted. Walther measured his length on the paving stones and I stood over him, battling my need to hit him again. “How dare you tell me what I need or do not?” I spat, barely resisting the urge to kick him. Repeatedly. “I am more a real woman than ever you could know, you cowardly lout. If you covet this stead then say so, but I do not take insults well. Shall I tell Alisonde what your marriage proposals are worth?” He still did not speak, but now at least had the grace to look ashamed. In a breath, my anger turned to disgust.
“Ah, get to the Hells, Walther, all seven of them, and take Alisonde with you,” I said, and was about to add a comment on his manhood when I froze where I stood. Like the sun bursting into a dark cellar, where all had been darkness there was blinding light. If I could have spared the effort I would have laughed with delight, but too many other things were crowding in on me.
Dear Walther. Time wears down the sharp edges of youth and memory. I have spoken to him since and thanked him. He it was who made me see that things had truly changed, that my life could be my own. I had kept my soul alive through dreams in the dark, even after Hadron’s death, until Walther with his absurd proposal shattered the darkness.
“Come, cousin,” I said, my anger gone in the instant. I gave him my hand and helped him up. “Let us think of this another way.”
“What way?” he asked, suspiciously, rubbing his jaw and watching my hands.
“Why, you were partly right. I shall need someone to look after the stock, to choose the right bloodlines for Hadron’s horses, to care for them, to train them to harness and saddle. Surely you and Jamie are best suited.”
“But what of you?”
I laughed. “I shall be gone, Walther. If y
ou see me once in the year it will be more than I expect. But I do not renounce my inheritance; I am still Hadron’s heir, still the possessor of his house and lands and all his goods. But I shall need funds.” I stared hard at him. “This is what I propose, Walther. When the hands are paid and the year’s accounts settled, any profits will be divided three ways, one share each to you, me and Jamie. I shall simply ask Jamie to keep my shares for me until I return to claim them. That way we are all three equals, you need not work for me and you will soon have enough to marry Alisonde. Now, does that suit? Or do I send you back to your father as you stand?”
He could not speak, so he nodded. “Very well,” I continued. “I shall want a portion of the available moneys to see me on my way, and I shall take with me a third of the profits from the fair. Is it a bargain?”
He didn’t move, so in the country fashion I spat in my palm and held out my open hand to him. He did the same and took mine in a daze. Well he might—in payment for an empty proposal meant to manipulate a weakling, he had received a decking and a secure future. I’d have been dazed, too.
I was awake all night preparing a contract for us three to sign, though I had to read it to Walther in the morning and help him make his mark. I had carefully put my few belongings into an old pack with my clothing and wrapped a good portion of silver in a pair of saddlebags. Jamie and I left before dawn with the hands and the horses.
I was happier than I could remember being.
ii
Lessons
The way was long from my father’s farm.
Illara, where the great fair was held, lay a long way east and a little south of Hadronsstead; we would be travelling the best part of a fortnight. Thankfully, old King Tershet of Ilsa was not yet in his dotage—there were not as many Patrols around as there might have been, but there were a few still out on the highways to keep order.
At the end of the first day’s travel I had been awake for two full days. We found a clear dry place by the edge of a wood on a little hill; with the last of my strength I helped tend the horses, inhaled Jamie’s stew and slept like a dead thing.
The next morning was a mixed blessing. I woke gently, lying on my back, to the lightening sky above me and the sweet sounds of waking birds all around. There was a smell on the dawn wind that spoke of winter’s coming, and an elusive scent of late wild roses caught at my heart. The sun was nearly up, a bright clear glow in the east behind the trees. I rolled over and stood up, surprised at how stiff I was. I had ridden all day since I was a child, and worked long hard hours, but I had never slept on the hard ground in the chill of early autumn afterwards. It made me swiftly and deeply aware of the distance I had travelled already, which was nothing that could be measured in leagues.
Jamie was already up and making the fire. He grinned at me. “Groan away, lass, you’ve the right, but don’t expect any sympathy from me. You’re the one always said you wanted to see the world! There’s a stream down there,” he added, pointing down the hill. “It’s good and fresh. The lads have taken the horses down for a drink, but I could use more water myself. Just you take those buckets upstream a ways and fetch me some, and I’ll have breakfast ready when you’ve done.”
I might have protested at being ordered about if I had been awake, but Jamie knew me far too well. By the time I was aware enough to object, I was at the stream.
I had a black moment there. Stiff as I was, it had somehow not occurred to me before. Only as I knelt at the side of the water did I understand in my chilly bones that I would not see a hot bath for weeks. I suspect it was just as well I had something else to do before I saw Jamie again. My mind was delighted beyond words at being gone from Hadronsstead, but so far my body was not entirely convinced.
When I returned to the fire, though, I had a little surprise for Jamie. I had planned it for ages; indeed, when I was a child I dressed in that fashion most of the time. I had made the clothes in secret soon after Hadron died, and now I was looking forward to a little gentle revenge. When I returned to the fire Jamie looked up and stared. I was dressed as he was, in woolen leggings and good stout boots and a long-sleeved wool tunic that, belted, came some inches below my knee. No skirts, no shoes that smacked of delicacy, no fine linen showing (though I kept my good shirt on beneath the wool), and my hair bundled up under a shapeless hat.
He said nothing at first, but he had the strangest look in his eyes, as though he saw a memory rather than me. Finally he said, “Good idea. Better to ride in, at any rate, and other travellers will have to look twice to know you’re a woman.”
That was the idea, of course; but somehow it hurt to hear that from Jamie. Still, I was comfortable and sensibly dressed for riding, and I had seldom asked more of clothing.
We had the luck of the weather when we started out; it held fine for the first few days. I delighted in waking every morning to find myself farther and farther from the places I knew. I gazed about me every moment, cherishing the changes of the land as it grew more and more unfamiliar, the smells and sounds of unknown places. The hills around and about Hadronsstead began to give way to great plains. Much of the land was farmed—we stayed with the horses in one or two barns on the way—but some was yet untamed. The wild grasses grew high, now brown with autumn and heavy with seed. Usually we all slept under the stars, Jamie, the lads and me, and as the night wind blew through the grass I heard the voice of Kolmar whispering a welcome. The ground was hard and I still woke sometimes with a stiff back, but I was so glad to find myself on my way at last that I tried not to complain.
To my surprise, it was hard not to. No matter that I had tried to imagine the hardships of a journey as well as the pleasures—I had simply never been for longer than a day without the comforts of a well-appointed farmhouse, and I missed them. I had never realised what it truly meant to have four walls about me and a roof over my head. There was safety and warmth and comfort there, cleanliness and good order. Here on the road there was much to wonder at and enjoy, and so I did—but in those first days I was perilously close to complaining.
I found, too, that by the end of the first week I was looking about with a different eye. I began to grow nervous, checking constantly over my shoulder for I could not tell what. Jamie noticed but he never said anything.
After two more days of this I was ready to scream. Were all my dreams to come to this, a useless woman afraid of her own shadow, longing for her safe farm and searching always for something unknown? I could bear it no longer. I pulled up alongside Jamie. We had not spoken much lately, and I knew it was because he was waiting for me. Blast him.
“Well, then?” I asked.
“Well what, lass?”
“You know what I mean. What in the Hells is this, Jamie? I keep looking for something and it’s never there.”
“Aye, so I’ve seen.” He smiled gently. “Do you know what you’re looking for?”
“No! And if I don’t find it out soon I shall go quite insane and start biting the horses. If you know what it is I wish you’d tell me!”
He rode on in silence for a minute or so, then said quietly, “I’m afraid it’s the walls of Hadronsstead you’re missing, my lass.”
I swore. Jamie just grinned.
“But I’ve waited years to get away!”
“True enough, but you’ve never been above a day’s ride from there your life long. What more natural than you should look for your home?” He stared off into the distance, frowning. “That’s the other side of the wandering life, Lanen, that you’d never learn by dreaming about it. This bout will pass quickly enough, you’re just fresh away from the place. But if you take to it the way you say you wish to, I’ll tell you now there’s more to come.”
“What more?” I asked, curious. Jamie had always been resolutely silent about his life before he came to us, and I had always wondered. This sounded promising.
“Ah, Lanen!” He sighed deeply with old memories. “I wandered the world from the time I was seventeen, fifteen years ere I came to
Hadronsstead. It might be well enough to wander if you’ve a place and people to come back to, but I tell you now there’s no desolation like wanting to go home and truly not knowing where it is.”
I had never heard Jamie so bitter. His voice had grown rougher; if I hadn’t known better I’d have thought him near tears.
“Is it really so terrible?” I asked quietly.
He looked over at me and smiled. “Not for you, lass. No, we all long to change to the other way if we get the chance—or think we do. I wouldn’t leave Hadronsstead for the world now, but you’ve known nothing else. You go on a-wandering, my girl. There’s a wondrous lot to see out there,” he said, nodding east ahead of us. “Including that storm, which won’t wait for us to find it.”
I saw nothing but a thin dark line out on the plain.
“We’d best get moving, we’ll need shelter.”
“Jamie, it’s a good hour away at least.”
“Not out here it isn’t. Now move!”
We found nothing better than a small wood to take cover in before it hit. I had never seen a storm move so fast. It was a typical autumn storm otherwise, a windy blast of drenching rain followed by a cold drizzle that was better and worse by turns, but never stopped completely.
After the downpour was over we moved on through the cold rain. Jamie knew of an inn we might stop at, but it meant a far longer day’s ride than we had planned. It was miserable on the road, but anything was better than trying to camp in that muck. We rode for hours in the dark and were soaked through completely when we arrived, just before midnight. By then Jamie and I had ridden some way ahead of the hands and the horses, to make arrangements for men and beasts.
I had only ever been to the village inn near Hadronsstead, and that had been much earlier in the evening. I had expected that all inns would thus be well lit and cheery. This was the first time we had so much as travelled after sunset, and I thought it easily the most dismal place I had ever seen. All was dark save for a tired red gleam of firelight under the front door. Such of the cobbled yard as I could see by cloud-covered moonlight was thickly tufted with grass, the sign of a slovenly keeper. I told Jamie as much.