Treason's Shore (115 page)

Inda thought of Evred’s recent words, and pursed his lips, then loosened his grip on Tdor.

She observed his change of expression, and guessed correctly at his thought. “Hadand sent it to Shendan Montredavan-An, where it can stay until such a time as magic studies are acceptable in Iasca Leror. Signi promised to speak on our behalf before the council.”

Inda noted that she had not said they were not using it, and he thought of women’s secrets, then dismissed the matter with an internal shrug. It was his sister’s affair. He knew she would never do anything that would harm the kingdom.

“Show me our son,” Inda said, and together they walked into the nursery and looked down at the napping babe, their fingers intertwined tightly. Then they walked out, and he glanced around with a vague air. “There isn’t much here I want to keep. Most belongs to the king. Can you be ready to leave in the morning?”

“Watch me.” She grinned.

For the rest of the day and evening Evred kept busy with constant affairs, but his ears were always on the alert for Inda’s step, for his voice. He found himself pausing in the middle of a task to arrange his words taking Inda back as Sierandael, or even as Harskialdna, whichever one he wanted.

But when he returned to his rooms shortly before the midnight watch, he found a gold ring sitting on his desk.

He was still sitting there, turning the ring on his fingers, when Hadand knocked a long time later.

“I saw your lights burning,” she said.

He made an effort to gesture welcome.

She entered softly, but instead of stopping just inside the door, she came around the desk and stood a pace or two out of reach, looking down into his face with those eyes so like Inda’s, yet unlike. He looked away, unable to speak.

“Did you have to send them to Choraed Elgaer?” she asked softly.

Evred had meant to keep silence, but the words wrung out of him, “He broke his promise. I can’t get past that.” And in a stronger voice, “He could have stayed. If he asked. But he wants to go home. Home being Choraed Elgaer. Not our home.”

Hadand came a step closer. “Yes. I thought I was the only one who saw that. How they both . . .” She made a gesture. “But there’s something else you should remember. Inda has broken two promises in his life. The orders for the strait was the second one.”

Evred looked up sharply.

“When he taught you the Odni. And I broke a promise to teach you when he was gone. Should we regret those things?”

Evred sat back. Hadand waited.

“Except a couple of scuffles from those fools at Ala Larkadhe I never did have to defend myself,” he said finally. “Others have always defended me.” He looked up.

“Go on,” she said.

He dropped the ring, and laid his hands flat on the table, still and tense. “Those lessons . . . from you both. First made me see that change was possible. It took me a long time to understand that.”

She leaned down and covered his hand with hers. “I was never going to tell you,” she said, “but I’ve changed my mind. I am in love with you, Evred Montrei-Vayir, in all the ways known to human beings. I never wanted to tell you because I didn’t want you to feel my love as a burden. But at the same time, I saw that you loved my brother in all the ways known to human beings.”

His fingers stirred, but she held them in her warm, firm grip. “No. Hear me. Then if you like we will never discuss it again. I tell you because I do not want you to feel alone. We both know what it is to have the love we love most not love us the same way in return. Just in the way they can.”

Chapter Thirty-four

T
HE courtyard at Tenthen was deserted, unswept. Inda and Tdor looked around warily. As they dismounted Whipstick Noth emerged from the stable doors, his old coat sun-bleached and worn. “You’ve sailed home? Or is this a liberty stop?” he asked Inda.

From behind stable hands emerged, looking up at Inda and Tdor with ambivalent faces.

Inda’s question about the lack of perimeter riders died. He lifted Jarend down from Tdor’s arms so Tdor could dismount. Then he and Tdor followed Whipstick inside, as the Twins (both of whom had chosen to stay with Inda, and Evred had granted permission) took charge of the cavalcade. Inda was disturbed at how worn and neglected everything seemed.

Whipstick waved them into the watch command office adjacent to the Rider barracks.

Inda shut the door, then set his brown-haired little son down. “This is young Jarend. The next one,” he added, “will be Kendred.”

Whipstick’s hard face creased as he knelt down. For a moment he and the child studied one another, Jarend sucking his thumb, Whipstick smiling. Then he looked up. “Your boy’s Shield Arm will be named for my brother?”

Inda opened his hand. “I just hope he won’t put eggs in the Riders’ shoes. Now, I know what happened—Branid’s dead, something to do with pirates—but I don’t know the details.”

“We had Toaran pirates nosing up the coast out of The Narrows, so the king ordered us to reinforce the harbors from our own Riders. Some pirates tried a run at Parayid, came as far as Piwum. My dad and his dragoons drove ’em off. I’d been doing the border rides, but at the prospect of action, Branid insisted on taking command.” Whipstick grimaced, then looked over both shoulders to make sure no one overheard. “My dad ignored him. Branid’s orders didn’t make sense once things got hot down at the wharf one night, when they tried to land in secret. But. Well. You can see the official report, but if you want to know what I think, I think the men scragged him,” he said in a low voice. “Not those pirates, who were drunken fools. Looking for easy pickings, rumor probably still out that we have no water defense. Dad and I thought it better, all things considered, not to investigate closely. You might feel different, I know.”

Inda gestured vaguely, his face pained. Then he looked around. “Why is the house so deserted?”

“It’s because
She
’s still here.”

“Dannor?”

Whipstick’s weather-lined face soured.

“Tell us,” Tdor said.

Whipstick’s bony shoulders lifted. “For a while it was all right. Branid did his best, by his lights. Then the fights began, when they started giving clashing orders. She was so high-handed and contradictory people started going to your mother to get orders, or to complain. When
She
found out, they’d get punished, or
She’d
get back at ’em some way.”

Tdor said to Inda, “That’s why Hadand invited Fareas-Iofre to the royal city. But she didn’t tell me the truth—she didn’t want me worrying about Tenthen. Your mother finally did, before she left for Fera-Vayir.”

Inda thumbed his jaw scar.

Whipstick said, “When Fareas-Iofre left us—and I don’t blame her—most of our best people packed off, saying they’d as soon work the fields, if Fera-Vayir would take them. We’ve barely got enough left to take care of the animals and work the land. We don’t have enough Riders. Which is why I’m here. When spring came, I sent a Runner around to everyone. Said if there was a problem, send a message to me. I’ve been waiting for Evred-Harvaldar to make a decision about who he wanted as Adaluin.”

Tdor’s arms were crossed, her fingertips just touching her knife hilts. “So Dannor has been in command?”

Whipstick turned out his hands. “She’s got rank. No one to say her nay.”

“Until now.” Inda turned to Tdor. “You want to do it or shall I?”

Tdor smiled. “This part of house defense,” she said, “is mine.”

The men laughed. Young Jarend laughed, too, just because the adults laughed, and he waved his much-gnawed carved wooden horse.

Inda took Whipstick’s thin, strong shoulders between his hands. “I’m home for good.”

Whipstick did not answer, but his sudden smile was sufficient. And he began to give his report on the state of Choraed Elgaer.

Presently a clatter echoed up the stone walls of the courtyard. Inda and Whipstick halted in the middle of their discussion of the castle horses and leaped to the window. A golden lamp lay on the flagstones. Then from above a golden tray arced out.
Clang!

“No,
you
listen to
me,
” came Tdor’s furious voice, clear on the summer air. Neither Inda nor Whipstick had ever heard her angry before. “Gold trays? Gold trays when the stable looks worse than horse shit waiting for a wand? Silk hangings, with the garden overgrown? No, Dannor, there is
no
excuse! I am the Iofre now. This place is going to be clean, and orderly, and drilled, by Restday. And you are going to lead every single work party. Either that, or you can go home to Tya-Vayir.”

Upstairs in the enormous prince’s suite—what once had been the Adaluin’s rooms in the olden days—the two women faced one another. Dannor flushed, fingers fumbling at her bare wrists. She’d stopped wearing her knives ages ago.

Tdor flicked hers out. “You really want to fight me?” she asked with interest. “Oh, please do. I’ll wait. Get your knives.”

Dannor had not drilled for at least two years, and it showed. Tdor looked fit, tough, and the long face Dannor had always thought boring and bovine was slashed by a very angry grin.

“I hate this place anyway. It couldn’t be more dull,” Dannor snapped and whirled around. “Go on, it’s all yours to sweep and mop. It’ll take me a few days to ready my things—”

Tdor still had that grin of rage, her thin cheeks pale except for two flushed spots below her eyes, making them seem unnaturally bright. “Here, I’ll help.” She reached for the nearest table, swept up its decorative items, marched to the open window, and flung them out.

Dannor gasped as Tdor stalked around the room, picking up and throwing all the gold and silver candlesticks, plates, cups, treasure boxes, straight out the window. Her arm was strong and her aim true.

When she reached for the first ceramic vase, Dannor waved her hands. “No! No! I’ll get my clothes ready. We’ll ride out today, if you’ll just send the rest.”

“Fair enough.”

Tdor marched out, and each servant she saw got a list of orders.

Inda and Whipstick moved to the outer door in happy expectancly. Before long Dannor appeared, golden braids disheveled, robe crooked. She sent a brooding look behind her as she clutched two baskets from which colored silk draggled. Her First Runner carried an enormous woven basket stacked high with small inlaid jewelry boxes.

Within a short time the two reappeared on horseback, and the former Iofre and her servant vanished up the north road, to be followed very soon by two or three of her own toadies, whom the castle people promptly turned on and drove out.

Tdor walked across the courtyard toward the men, the flush of triumph fading into regret and even guilt.

“I should not have flung her things out the window,” she admitted. “We could have worked something out—if she’d done
anything
. Even her tapestry is unfinished. It looks like she abandoned it years ago.”

“She did. The day she hooked Branid into marriage,” Whipstick said.

“Well, I put the people to work. Either they leave or get used to new orders.” Tdor wiped a damp strand of brown hair off her forehead. “I may as well pitch in. I’m not sleeping in any room that smells of her attar of roses, and my old room is full of spiderwebs. Faugh!” She whisked herself off.

Whipstick bent to pick up Jarend, who was still chewing on his wooden horse. Hoisting the boy up onto his shoulder, he said, “I’ll get him set up in the heir’s rooms, why don’t I?”