THE SHADOWLORD (13 page)

"Antar. It is Rysalian for 'strong one.'"

"It suits him."

"What did you name your mare?"

"She was a gift from..." She looked away. "A friend. He named her."

Glancing at the pretty gray mare, Jaelan drew the name "Andeana" from Aradia's thoughts and delved further to learn it was Diabolusian for "she who is leaving." He made no comment, for she did not seem inclined to tell him the horse's name. "Ready to ride?"

She looked at the ground. "What happens when we reach Abbadon, warrior?"

"Jaelan," he corrected. When she met his gaze, he smiled.

Reluctantly, she echoed his smile. "That name suits you, too."

"In Rysalian, it means 'orphan,' and aye, it describes me well enough."

Not giving her a chance to comment, he led his stallion out of the cave.

When she exited, she saw the western sky had darkened once more. "Not more rain."

"It will be a while before it reaches us. Do you need help mounting?"

"Of course not." She swept aside the hem of her robe, gripped the pommel, and easily mounted. She adjusted the reins and shifted more comfortably in the saddle. "The women of my race are born horse masters."

He swung atop his own horse. When the stallion moved forward, eager to run, Jaelan controlled the spirited animal with a squeeze of his powerful thighs. He bent forward and patted the sleek black neck. "He's unaccustomed to being cooped up as he was last eve."

"She, too," Aradia replied, having difficulty keeping her mount checked. The mare sidestepped, as if flirting with the stallion and as eager as he to race. "Perhaps we should give them a chance to rid themselves of the pent-up energy."

"After you." Jaelan backed the stallion out of her path. He grinned as she kicked her mount in the flanks and shot forward. Sitting for a moment, he admired the way Aradia and her horse took to the road, as graceful and powerful as a fabled centaur of ages past, beast and mistress moving as one entity. With a nudge of his heels, he gave the stallion permission to chase the pretty gray mare.

Aradia looked over her shoulder to see the Shadowlord gaining. She bent forward, cutting the wind resistance. When the stallion and mare came neck-to-neck, she raced alongside Jaelan Ben-Ashaman, feeling a freedom she had not known for a long time. She gloried in the rhythmic beat of the hooves on the soft dirt, the rush of the wind through her hair. A sidelong glance at her companion told her he, too, enjoyed the ride. When Andeana grew tired of her all-out run and slowed, the stallion seemed to sense the mare's mood and matched her stride for stride.

Before long, the tile roofs of a village came into view.

"Uadjit," Jaelan called to her, pointing to the settlement.

Aradia nodded, anxious for a long, hot bath. The stink on her robe no longer bothered her, for she had grown accustomed to the smell, but the scratchy wool, the heat of its fabric making her perspire, she would not miss.

They rode into Uadjit. The few people milling about quickly vanished, pulling curtains over windows, closing and locking doors.

"Inhospitable bunch, aren't they?"

Jaelan's jaw went tight, his face hard. "They know me here."

"You don't seem welcome," she quipped.

"I'm not." He rode toward the largest building in the square.

Aradia thought she saw the surreptitious movement of curtains being pulled aside, but couldn't be sure. She heard no sound--not even the snorting of animals--as Jaelan swung his leg over his stallion's head and slid off. As his booted feet met the ground, the distant sound of thunder shook the heavens.

"Oh, that was a particularly telling thing to have happen," he scoffed through clenched teeth.

"What?" she asked, dismounting.

"The prophets-be-damned thunder announcing the arrival of the demon and his consort."

Aradia started to ask what he meant, but he had doubled his fist and began beating on the door in front of him, rattling the portal in its frame. It wouldn't have surprised Aradia if the door remained locked to them.

But it squeaked open, and a tall, white-haired man appeared. Silently, he moved aside to allow them to enter.

"I need a hot bath for the lady," Jaelan ordered.

The elderly man nodded. He beckoned Aradia to accompany him into, what she realized, was a public tavern and inn.

"You're safe here, wench," Jaelan said. "I'll make arrangements with the magistrate while you're bathing."

"Arrangements?"

Jaelan met her gaze. "The Joining might as well take place here."

Aradia felt the old man stiffen beside her. She thought she saw shock registering in his rheumy blue eyes before he looked at the floor. His low groan must have reached Jaelan's ears, for the Shadowlord's voice came overly loud and nasty.

"She's not a nun, if that's what concerns you, Grandfather. I'm not ravishing a holy woman, so you have no need to fear for her immortal soul!"

The old man sighed, but remained silent. He stood with his hands clasped, waiting patiently for Aradia to proceed him through a low archway hung with crystal beads.

"Just go," Jaelan ordered. He jerked open the door, then slammed it shut behind him.

"This way, Milady," the old man whispered. He swept his arm toward the darkness beyond the archway.

Moving through the beaded curtain and into the shadowy confines of a narrow corridor, Aradia smelled bread baking. Her mouth watered, and unconsciously she licked her dry lips.

"Are you hungry, Milady?" the man asked, his voice still no louder than a whisper.

"Starved."

"I will see to a meal for you, if you like."

"I would be most grateful for any kindness, Grandfather." Through the gloom, she saw astonishment pass over the man's wrinkled face. A violent quiver ran through his slight body when she touched his thin arm. His fear hurt her. "Please don't be afraid of me."

His face softened. "It is not you I fear, Milady."

The aged one led her into the bathing chamber, where a young girl emptied buckets of water into a deep copper tub. She moved as though sleepwalking between the shiny tub and a huge black caldron, in which water bubbled over a blazing fire and made the room humid.

"My granddaughter Naseema, Milady," the man said. "She's mute, but her hearing is keen. Just ask and she will do all she can to fulfill your needs."

"She can't speak?" Aradia asked, glancing at the beautiful girl.

He straightened his shoulders. "Once she could...before punishment descended upon our household. Now, she will never speak again."

Fearing she knew all too well what must have befallen the girl, Aradia asked no more questions. She waited until he left, then sat on a low bench to pull off her boots. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the girl watching. A bit self-consciously, she stood and pulled the smelly robe over her head. Aradia grimaced when getting a whiff of the hem as it passed under her nose.

"By the goddess, that is ripe!" Without a second thought, she went to the fire and threw the robe in the flames. The odds of her ever needing it again seemed slim, especially with Jaelan intent on seeing them Joined before leaving for Abbadon.

Clad only in the thin chemise that had given her flesh little protection from the ravaging, coarse robe, Aradia sat on the bench again, waiting for the girl to finish filling the tub. "I didn't think to get the clothes from my saddle bags. Would you fetch them for me, Naseema?"

The girl nodded. She poured in the last bucket of water, then turned to do as bid. While reaching for the door handle, she jumped back as the portal swung inward and Jaelan appeared.

Acute fear flashed over the girl's pretty face. A stifled shriek, hastily confined behind a violently trembling hand, turned to a low keening of terror. Naseema scrambled out of the way, slamming into the far wall and sliding to the floor, her arms over her head.

Aradia stood, intending to go to the girl.

Jaelan took her arm. "Leave her be," he said, his voice tight.

"Can't you see she's scared out of her wits?" Aradia asked, trying to break free of his hold.

"Out, Naseema," he ordered.

The girl shot to her feet as though a rocket had been strapped to her back. She rushed from the room, panting.

Aradia rounded on Jaelan. "What the hell happened to her? What did you do to her?"

Blood flooded Jaelan's face. His gaze hardened. "I've never laid a hand on her."

"Well, someone did! One look at you and she nearly piddled!"

A muscle bunched in his lean cheek. He let go of her arm. "Take your bath. We're to meet with the magistrate in half an hour."

Aradia blinked, her jaw dropping. "Not until you tell me what made that poor girl rush out of here like the hounds of hell were nipping at her ankles."

His golden eyes narrowed dangerously, but Aradia held her ground, meeting his angry stare with a resolved one of her own. Folding her arms over her thin cotton chemise, she waited for his answer.

"You won't like what I tell you," he said at last.

"Try me."

Letting out a harsh breath, he ran his hand through his dark curls. "I executed her husband, Rami. Are you satisfied?"

"What had he done?"

"People overheard him planning an assassination attempt on King Hasani. I was dispatched to take care of the matter." The muscle in his cheek clenched and unclenched. "That is who I am. That is what I do."

"And is slicing his wife's tongue from her mouth part of what you do, as well, warrior?"

"I told you, I never touched her! The Tribunal ordered it done by the Magistrate's own hand.
He
carried out the punishment."

"Then why is she so terrified of you?"

"They're all afraid of me, or haven't you noticed?"

"The old man certainly is."

"As well he should be, since his son is the Magistrate, and it was his grandson I killed!"

Aradia's face paled. "The Magistrate did that to his own daughter-in-law?"

"The Tribunal is a brutal taskmaster, Aradia. Best you learn that now before we reach Abbadon. When you serve them, you do as they bid or suffer the consequences. Had he not cut out Naseema's tongue, he would have watched her throat slit and her body tossed on the funeral pyre atop her husband's. Since she was great with child, he took the lesser of the two evils."

Tears filled her eyes at the injustice of what had happened. "Why would they punish her if it was her husband who was guilty?"

Jaelan stared at the ceiling, as though striving to gain strength to answer her, as though the correct words lay written on the smoke-stained beams overhead. When he looked at her, he sounded tired. "Because she would not stop pledging her husband's innocence, even when Lord Gehenna demanded her silence. He warned her. I warned her, but she was too deeply caught up in her grief to hear us. I tried to reason with the Tribunalist. I bid him have mercy since she was little more than a child. But Lord Gehenna refused to listen and ordered the girl's tongue removed." His shoulders slumped. "He takes great delight in meting out that particular punishment."

For several moments, Aradia looked at him, seeing a side of him she knew existed but had overlooked, had tried to pretend did not matter. "You killed the Magistrate's son? How?"

"I cut his throat. That is the prescribed form of execution for a traitor in the field. Had he been taken to Abbadon, he would have been beheaded after being tortured for a prolonged length of time. Cutting his throat was the easier death, believe me."

She felt slightly ill. "How can you expect the father of a man you murdered to Join us this day?"

"He has no choice. He knew his son was involved with the insurrectionists. By law, I should have executed him, as well. His son's wife was carrying information to the rebels and she, too, should have been dispatched. Lord Gehenna hoped that, by setting an example with the son, the father and daughter-in-law would cease their activities, but they haven't. This village is a hotbed of rebel activity. If for no other reason than being thankful I don't put every man to the sword and every woman into the convent, every child in the orphanage and burn every building to the ground, the Magistrate should be honored to perform the Joining!"

Aradia looked away from his handsome face, which had turned hard and challenging. She needed his help to free Orithia and could not afford to alienate him. Her words had come close to doing just that. "Forgive me, Milord. I was raised to protect my fellow sisters ,and the plight of the innkeeper's granddaughter touched me. This is not my land, and these are not my people. It is not my place to question what you did or the reason behind why you did it."

"No, it isn't."

Thunder shook the building. The Shadowlord sighed, his exasperation evident. "The Prophet seems determined to set a rain cloud always over us."

"It seems so."

He shook his head. "Your bath will have to wait. Get dressed. I'm not a superstitious man, but I would just as soon not be Joined during a deluge." He cast her a quick look. "That wouldn't bode well for the marriage, would it?"

"Marriage is what you make it, warrior."

A moment later, a tap on the door broke the silence. When Aradia opened the portal, she saw Naseema scurrying down the hallway. The girl had placed Aradia's saddlebag on the floor.

Aradia opened the bag and withdrew a pair of men's breeches and a shirt. Looking at Jaelan, she arched a brow until he got the hint and turned around.

Jaelan moved to the window and pushed aside the curtain, all too aware of the lady's movements as she dressed behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her chemise tossed onto a chair. The thought of her chest, bare beneath the white cambric shirt, brought an instant reaction.

"The breeches are damp," she said, her tone suggesting she had trouble getting into the cords.

"Once we reach Abbadon, I'll buy you all the gowns you could ever want."

"Don't want them."

He looked around. The sight of her buttoning the pearl studs over her shapely hips elicited another reaction in the lower part of his body. He forced himself not to stare at the juncture of her long legs. "Why not?"