Binding Spell (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms) (14 page)

He hesitated then. Very slowly he pulled his hands from mine. Some of the light in his eyes seemed to die. “It is nothing you should concern yourself with — that is, I will discuss these things with you, and soon, but now is not the time. May I beg your patience, just as you have asked for mine all these weeks?”

His point could not have been more clear. Whatever his easy pleasantries, whatever the spurious camaraderie that might have arisen between us over the short course of our marriage, he still did not regard me as a true wife, and, as such, I was not deserving of his secrets.

I saw no point in arguing. Indeed, I knew if I pressed the matter, I only risked arousing his suspicions. So I bowed my head with uncharacteristic meekness and said, “Of course, my lord.”

He nodded, as if satisfied, then took his leave of me and went out the door. I sat on the divan for a long while, staring into the fire.

Would it be worth it, to give myself to him in exchange for his confidences?

I feared I did not want to know the answer.

H
e was gone all
that day. I appeared to be the only member of the castle’s household who seemed overly concerned by his absence, as he had ridden out with six of his stoutest men. Despite Kadar’s careless words, the fog did not lift. If anything, it grew thicker, wrapping the stone building in a layer of seemingly impenetrable dankness. More and more wood was piled on the fires, and yet nothing seemed able to pierce the damp chill that permeated the castle. Child of the warm South that I was, I found myself shivering uncontrollably, even after Beranne produced a shawl of warm, thick wool woven in intricate patterns and laid it around my shoulders.

“Stay by the hearth,” she told me as she bustled about, adding more logs and stirring the coals so the fire blazed up anew. “Poor child, you’re not used to this sort of thing, are you?”

Teeth chattering, I could only shake my head. I had my fingers wrapped around a mug of hot spiced cider, and while that helped a little, still I could not imagine what a winter here would be like, if it should be so cold in the first days of Novedre. “A-and the M-mark is out in it,” I managed.

“You worry for him, as any wife should. But there’s no need — his lordship was born and bred in the North. A little fog would never get into
his
bones. You can count on that.”

Perhaps she was right. After all, I was the newcomer here. But somehow I could not quell the rising dread in my heart, as if something had gone terribly wrong, that somewhere he was lost in the fog…lost to me. If only I could have gone down to the cellars to see Ulias, perhaps I could have set my mind at rest. I’d found something oddly comforting in his presence, alien though he should have been to me. He would tell me the truth of things, whether my worries were simply dark fancies born of the fog.

That escape was not afforded me, however. The mage had been quite explicit in saying he would only call for me again when it was safe for him to do so, and since I had received no such summons, I assumed that meant such a visit would be ill-advised at present. I recalled how Ulias told me he had brought me to him because Maldis was out of the castle. Since Ulias did not call me now, while my lord was away, did that mean the dark mage lingered somewhere still in the keep?

At that thought a fresh bout of shivering wracked my frame, and Beranne made a sound of dismay. “Should I bring some heating bricks for your feet? Is the cider not hot enough?”

“No, Beranne,” I said at once. “It is just me being weak. I need to work my way through this, or I shall have an even more difficult time this winter.”

She shook her head. “No, my lady, you are not weak at all. Why, to have come here all alone, with no servants of your own, and having to make do in a strange land with no one you know and a husband who — ” She stopped herself, red staining her round cheeks. “I mean no impertinence, my lady. But you should not call yourself weak.”

Her words warmed me the way the shawl and the fire had not. “I thank you for that, Beranne.” She smiled down at me, and I pressed on, asking, “But what did you mean when you began to say ‘a husband who — ’?”

If possible, she flushed even more deeply. “I spoke out of turn, my lady. I should not make free of my liege lord.”

“Is it making free when you’re speaking to his wife?”

“I — ”

“Please, Beranne. I am worried about him, and somehow it makes feel better to speak of him when I cannot have him here with me. Do you understand?”

Still she hesitated, her hands knotting in the rough linen of the apron she wore over her simple brown dress. “I spoke out of turn, my lady.”

“
Beranne!
”

Whether it was the ring of command in my tone — so very unlike me — or simply that she no longer wished to stay her tongue, she said quickly, “Everyone knows why you were brought here, my lady.”

“And why is that?” I inquired. Once again cold inched its way down my spine, although this time I knew it had very little to do with the temperature in the room.

“Why, to ally the North with one of the great houses of Sirlende,” she said simply. “Is that not the truth?”

“Yes,” I replied. “But that should have been obvious enough to anyone. I certainly would not call that speaking out of turn. And do sit down. You’re making me nervous, standing there and wringing your hands.”

Her eyes widened, and she plopped herself down in the large chair to the right of the divan.

“There is more, isn’t there?” I asked.

“It was clear enough that you had no wish to be the consort of the Mark. The whispering the morning after your wedding!”

So much for what I had thought was a neutral and correct expression during the wedding ceremony. Good thing I had never planned to be a professional gambler…or an actor. I sighed and said, “That is also true. Most young ladies of my acquaintance do not regard being kidnapped out of one’s bed as an acceptable form of courtship.”

“Kidnapped!” she exclaimed.

I realized then that Kadar’s court hadn’t been privy to quite all my secrets. Oh, well, the tarnishing of the Mark’s reputation could be laid squarely at his own feet; I rather thought it high time that some of his subjects had a truer measure of his person.

“But if that’s what happened, then why — ” She broke off, then continued, “That is to say, why then did you stay, when your ladyship’s brother and the Duke himself came to fetch you? Especially since you hadn’t — ” And this time she stopped herself in earnest, even going so far as to press her lips tightly together as if to prevent any betraying words from escaping.

“Since I hadn’t what?”

If she had flushed any brighter, her cheeks would have glowed more hotly than the coals in the hearth. “Hadn’t — that is, that your marriage is not a true one.”

She might as well have slapped me across the face. I stared at her, the cup of cider growing cold between my clenched fingers, then asked quietly, “Everyone knows?”

“Oh, no, my lady,” she said immediately. “That is, only I. Perhaps Narenna has her doubts, but she is a good and meek girl. She would never say anything to anyone.”

Well, that was something, I supposed. I thought then of how my mother had once said it was impossible to keep anything from your servants for any length of time, and that was why she used only day help. We never had any of the scrub maids or cooks live with us, even though there was ample space to accommodate them at the comfortable house she had inherited. Most likely it was to shield my father and me, to prevent anyone outside the family from learning the truth about our magical abilities. At any rate, it seemed she had been right. And here I had thought I had done so well to trick Beranne and everyone else into thinking my marriage was not a sham.

“I suppose I must be thankful for that.”

“But why, lady?”

“Why haven’t I slept with Kadar Arkalis?” I asked bluntly.

“Oh, Inyanna hear her! My lady, that is between you and his Highness. No, why you stayed. And — forgive me — why you should be so worried about the Mark now, if there is nothing between you.”

Most highborn ladies would have told her to mind her own business and ordered her out of the room for such impertinence. But I was not highborn — well, not by upbringing, at any rate — and I was weary of keeping secrets. Some, of course, I must hold close to my heart, but I found as I looked into her puzzled, earnest face I missed very much being able to talk to my mother, or my friend Daris, who never seemed to take anything too seriously. I wondered then what Daris would have thought of the Mark of North Eredor.

“I stayed because I saw no point in giving myself to another man as chattel, just because he was the Duke of Gahm.” Her eyes widened at that remark; apparently the Duke’s offer was not public knowledge. “And also because — ” I hesitated, as the truth of my heart slowly revealed itself to me, “ — because perhaps I have grown to be somewhat fond of your Kadar Arkalis. Don’t tell him that, though. He would only hold it over my head.”

“As if I would, my lady!”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t.” I gave her a weary little smile and lifted my now-lukewarm cup of cider to my lips. “So you see why I worry. I know I am being foolish, and he will return late this evening with a boar or a few bucks, and would laugh to know of my concern. But that is how it is.”

Looking a little startled, as if surprised by her own boldness, she leaned forward and patted my hand. “It will be all right. You’ll see.” But then she stopped, and pursed her lips, as if she had begun to say something and thought better of it.

I did not press her. I had revealed enough already — far too much, some would say. So I turned from her and stared into the fire, and wondered when my lord would come home.

V
ery late
, as it turned out, so late that I had been asleep for some hours. But of course he had to walk past the divan where I lay, and for once I slept lightly. My eyes snapped open almost the second he opened the door. I sat up, straining my eyes against the darkness. The fire had burned quite low, and Beranne had snuffed the candles before she left me for the night.

“Kadar?” I asked, and wished my voice didn’t sound quite so thin.

I heard his boots heavy against the wooden floor, and then he paused next to the divan. “I had hoped not to wake you.”

Apparently not. What had he been up to, that kept him out during the hours when all decent folk were in their beds? “I did not sleep very well.”

“No wonder,” he replied, his tone light. “You’ve let the fire quite die down. It’s cold as death in here.” And he moved around to the hearth and began prodding at the coals with the poker.

“Quite a night to be out in,” I said. “I thought you’d been lost in this fog.”

“That?” He chuckled. “It would take more than a mere mist to keep me from finding my way home.” After setting the poker aside, he turned from the fire and stared down at me. “You cannot be saying that you were worried.”

I would not meet his eyes. “And what if I were?”

“How can I task you for that?” To my surprise, he knelt on the floor in front of the divan and reached out to lay one hand on mine, where it rested on top of the blankets. Usually his hands were warm, no matter what the temperature, but the dank night chill seemed to have invaded his flesh, for his icy fingers sent renewed shivers through me. At least, I assumed my shivers were from the cold. “Truly, your concern does you credit, but nothing has gone amiss, save that we brought back only four bucks when I had hoped for five.”

“Only four?” I repeated, with a shaky laugh. “How will we get through the winter?”

I did not bother to mention that on all of his previous hunting expeditions, he had been back well in time for supper. Secrets, always secrets between us. I did not like it, but neither would I poke and pry like a jealous fishwife.

“Ah, now you tease me. I see you must be recovered.” He gave my fingers another squeeze and then rose to his feet. “But it is, as you say, very late, and I am wearied from a long ride. We will speak again tomorrow.”

“Of course,” I said. What had he been up to, all those long hours?

I somehow guessed it would be a long time before I ever did know.

D
espite the lateness
of his arrival the night before, Kadar was gone when I awoke the next morning. Again that sensation of disappointment swept over me, although I tried to tell myself it was foolish to pin my hopes on so elusive a target as the Mark of Eredor. As for my confessions to Beranne of the previous evening, those truths seemed far less steady in the light of day. It would not do to admit what — if anything — my spurious husband had come to mean to me. It seemed quite obvious I did not mean as much to him as I thought I did.

My bad humor clung to me as Beranne came to prepare me for my day and onward as the morning hours increased, with no sign of Kadar. I tried to tell myself that I was only on edge because of my need to speak to the mage Ulias, and because I had no means of doing so. But somehow I knew that constraint had very little to do with the discontent which clung to me as surely as the mist persisted in sticking to the keep’s many-paned windows.

As I could think of nothing else to do, I sought refuge in my tower room, even though I could see very little through the swirling fog. Sounds were muffled and distant, as if they somehow came to me from very far away, rather than only yards beneath my feet. I did not even bother with the dulcimer, but lingered in my chair by the window, staring at nothing as the wisps of mist dragged their ghostly tendrils past the mullioned glass.

And it was there that Kadar found me, although he did not come alone. A wriggling ball of greyish fur detached itself from his arms and scampered across the floor toward me, only to lay its head on my knee and let out a little whine.

“I thought you could use the company,” he told me.

At once I knelt to stroke the little dog’s head. Black eyes circled in kohl to rival a Keshiaari princess stared up at me. “She’s beautiful,” I breathed, and then glanced up at my husband. “That is, if she’s a she.”