The Silver City, page 47
‘To fear?’
Halthris hoped desperately that he would not touch her again. If he did, all her control would vanish, and she would forget everything in the face of her urgent hunger. And afterwards, she was sure that she would regret it most bitterly.
Something heavy and wet fell on her head, making her gasp. They had been so intent on each other that neither had noticed that the almost impenetrable darkness was caused by the swift arrival of a thick muffling of cloud, blotting out moon and stars. And that distant ominous muttering was surely thunder.
‘It’s raining,’ she said, laughing with relief as more drops smacked onto the leaves above her. ‘I didn’t think it ever did rain, in Toktel’yi.’
‘Rain? It’s more like a flood here,’ Ansaryon told her. He took her hand and pulled her out from the tree’s inadequate shelter. Water exploded onto her head, her shoulders, her arms, warm and astonishingly welcome after the thick close heat of the night. Above the noise, he added, ‘Come on, or we’ll drown — run!’
Breathless, laughing, she hurried with him through rain that rapidly turned from a scattering of heavy drops to a downpour, and then to a drenching torrent that reminded her of the time she had stood under a waterfall on one of the steppe rivers. To a grassland nomad, such a rare soaking was a delight. Her gown flapped wetly round her ankles, her face streamed and her elaborate hairstyle was quite ruined, but she did not care. And Ansaryon laughed too, sounding younger and more light-hearted than she had ever heard him, as if the bitterness of the past, the problems of the present and the menace of the future had all been washed away with the rain.
She had no idea where they were going until he opened a door in a tree-shrouded wall, and swept her into a small, plain, empty room, through it and into another. It was furnished in the opulent Toktel’yan style, cushions and drapery everywhere, a low table spread with paper, and two small wall-lamps disseminating a low and friendly light.
Outside, thunder cracked and the rain hammered on the ground. Ansaryon went to the windows and pulled the shutters across. Halthris looked down at the spreading pool of water collecting on the floor around her feet, and realized that in this soaked, clinging, flimsy garment she might just as well not be wearing anything at all.
Ansaryon turned to face her, and she saw that he was aware of it too. He walked across the tiles, leaving a trail of drips, and stood in front of her, his eyes wide and dark with desire. He said very softly, ‘I want you so much. Do you want me?’
Lies, excuses, evasions, flitted through her mind, and were discarded. Her eyes met his, and she said with honesty, ‘Yes, I do.’ His hands had come up to embrace her: he dropped them suddenly to his sides, and said, his voice wry, ‘But?’
‘But I feel that matters between us are too complicated already. You are my friend, and I value that above anything else. If you were to become my lover as well … ’
‘I know.’ He smiled at her, and she saw his acceptance of defeat and was suddenly and sharply disappointed. ‘And I know too that if we were to start an affair, we would both lose a great deal of respect.’ His smile became a grin, suddenly and heart-breakingly attractive. ‘Besides, Invan would probably stick a knife into me.’
‘You’ve noticed?’ She was clenching her hands, so strong was the urge to touch him.
‘When two men desire the same woman, they’re bound to be aware of each other’s feelings. Invan has suspected me of seducing you ever since I gave you your room here in the Palace. In fact, I have to confess to a kind of perverse pleasure in proving him wrong … Are you cold?’
She shook her head so violently that water scattered from her wet hair to join the pools on the floor. ‘No. I think I’d better go.’
‘Hal?’ For the second time that night, he had addressed her by the affectionate diminutive which only her closest Tanathi friends used. Surprised, she looked into his eyes and saw there a depth and strength of feeling that left her suddenly weak and shaking. ‘Hal, I want our friendship to continue. Whatever happens.’
‘Of course it will,’ she said softly, hoping her longing did not show as nakedly on her face as it did in his. ‘And perhaps one day, it will be different.’
‘It will.’ He spoke in her mind, where she knew already that there could be no deception, and no lies. ‘One day, dear Hal — one day.’
And before she could change her mind, she smiled, and turned, and left him.
PART FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
As arranged months ago, the armies of Ansaryon’s alliance began to gather before the last dark moon of summer. Although the days were shortening, the cold air had not yet begun to breathe down from the mountains, out of sight four hundred miles to the north, and it was still warm enough for the men to camp out of doors, without the protection of tents.
The contingent from Lelyent had been the first to arrive, more than four hundred of them, slightly less than Belerith had promised but still a good showing from such a small city. They had spent all summer training under the fifty Sar D’yenyi soldiers that Ansaryon had left behind for this purpose, and looked tanned, fit and confident. They marched past King Temiltan into the camp, singing a cheerful song echoed by drums and pipe, and with their arrival the King felt that his nephew’s enterprise was truly begun.
The messenger pigeons had brought the news from Toktel’yi some time ago, winging their way straight and swift as an arrow northwards from the great city, across hundreds of miles of fields, villages and towns, and the sinuous windings of the Kefirinn. Through the good will and generosity of his cousin the Emperor (and the Emperor-in-Waiting), Ansaryon had obtained the five thousand men he needed. Because of their numbers, and the need for haste, they would make the journey on land rather than by river, struggling against the current. A good road ran north almost straight from Toktel’yi to Tamat on the Empire’s border, and thence to Minassa. It was five hundred miles by that route, and it took them rather less than a month.
The rendezvous was at a town called Chearno, about ten miles south of Minassa. It was a prosperous place, given over to its market. Four days in five, the broad central square was filled with sheep, cattle, horses, and produce of every conceivable kind: great bunches of undried kuldi leaves, heaps of vegetables, conical piles of glowing orange and yellow fruit, like King Temiltan’s lamps. Enthused by the prospect of feeding such a large army, it seemed that every farmer between Minassa and Tamat had transported his produce here in wagons, or on horse or mule back, in the hopes of obtaining a share of Ansaryon’s gold in exchange.
Outriders had brought news of his approach, and when the King-in-exile rode into the camp at the head of his men, one warm evening just before the last dark moon of summer, the rest of his alliance was there waiting for him, cheering their leader and his army until their voices grew hoarse.
Ansaryon sat on the tall white stallion, half-bred Tanathi and a gift from the Emperor, and acknowledged them with a smile and a wave of his hand. Behind him, the men who had followed him all the way from Sar D’yenyi glittered erratically in their dusty armour, grins cracking their tired, sunburnt faces. And bringing up the rear came the five thousand Toktel’yan soldiers, tramping in terrifyingly perfect step.
The last time such troops had marched into Minassa, a hundred and fifty years ago, they had been hostile invaders, only repulsed with much difficulty and bloodshed. Many Minassans, eyeing them warily on the long march up from Tamat, had hoped fervently that it would be easier to get rid of these soldiers. Such men had made Toktel’yi the greatest power in the known world, and beside their well-drilled precision, their gleaming steel armour, and the razor-sharp efficiency of their weapons, even Ansaryon’s entourage looked shabby and somehow unthreatening. Five thousand of them should be more than enough to defeat the barbarian Ska’i.
To Halthris, this return to a more temperate climate and congenial country had come as a considerable relief. After that momentous night when Ba’alekkt had entertained her and Ansaryon in his pavilion, events had moved very quickly. True to his word, the Emperor-in-Waiting had extracted a promise of help from his father the very next day, and within half a month the five thousand soldiers had been collected, equipped, provisioned and given their orders. Ansaryon had been furiously busy, occupied with plans and briefings until late each night, and Halthris had been grateful for this respite.
In her mind, she had relived over and over again the details of that night. Her response to him was by no means easy to analyse. Was it lust? Or friendship? Or love? Would she feel the same for any personable man who expressed his desire for her so openly?
No — for Invan had not aroused her desire, although his craving for her, albeit unspoken, was just as obvious as Ansaryon’s. And now, with the climax to the campaign rushing ever closer, was not the time to subject her emotions, such as they were, to minute scrutiny. She would play her part once more as a trusted member of his staff, and try not to think about anything else until after they had won back Zithirian.
It was almost impossible, for her heart leapt whenever she saw him, even at a distance, but for the sake of her peace of mind, she would try.
She had not seen Bron again, and if he had appeared to anyone else, she had not heard of it. Perhaps his absence meant that something had befallen his mistress, but she doubted it. From all that she had heard of D’thliss, the priestess was a born survivor, and possessed of enough power to ensure it. Either she had learned enough, that night in Ba’alekkt’s pavilion, or she was now much more careful where she sent Bron, and who saw him. Halthris was glad of it: the child was a disturbing reminder that the defeat of Tsenit and the Ska’i was by no means the certainty that everyone seemed to think it would be, now that they had Imperial help.
Now, riding her rangy Toktel’yan horse through the cheering soldiers, she was tense with anticipation and fear. The Lelyentans were here, recognized by their leather jerkins, and the Minassans too of course. But where, oh where, was her brother Abreth?
Even as she searched the crowd, she heard her name shouted, and out of the corner of her eye glimpsed frantic movement. Then Inri, beside her, laughed and pointed, and she saw Abreth and Chettay standing together, waving. It was impossible to stop there and hold up the procession, but she waved back, her grin stretching her face, and saw him jab his finger at an area of the camp behind him. Presumably, that was where the rest of the Tanathi were located.
The relief was overwhelming: she had not seen or heard from her brother for so long, and a nagging fear for him had always lurked unpleasantly at the back of her mind. Inri, well aware of how she felt, gave her a friendly clasp of the hand. ‘Thanks be to Hegeden and Sarraliss — Abreth and Chettay at least are safe.’
At the centre of the camp the Minassan King had pitched a handsome tent in the Toktel’yan style, a cone of canvas pulled out from a central pole, and Temiltan stood before it, his staff beside him, to welcome his cousin. The cavalcade broke up in some confusion as each contingent began the task of finding somewhere to sleep before darkness fell: already, the sun had disappeared behind the rumpled, distant horizon of the steppes, and the broad plain to the west of Chearno was dotted with campfires and the tents being put up for the Toktel’yan officers.
Even in this huge area, locating the Tanathi was easy. With a shock of joyful recognition, Halthris saw the distinctive rounded shapes of a dozen ‘mareks’ grouped together, quite close to the river. Eagerly, she urged her narrow-chested dark bay horse through the dispersing crowds, Inri and Sherren just behind her.
‘Hal!’
Abreth came running up, his braids flying and the four bracelets on his arm clashing with every stride. She had time to notice that he looked fit, and healthy, and happy, and then she leapt from the bay’s uncomfortable back and flung herself into her brother’s embrace.
The next few moments passed in a confused blur — everyone asking questions at once, and hardly listening to the answers — but at last the initial elation of their reunion diminished, and Abreth looked at his sister and his friends, grinning. ‘There are fires lit, and meat roasting in your honour, and six hundred Tanathi waiting to hear all your news.’
‘Six hundred?’ Inri cried in astonishment. ‘That’s far more than you were hoping to bring.’
‘I know.’ Abreth grinned, very pleased with himself. ‘Whether it was just my persuasive tongue, or the fact that a baby could see that the Ska’i are a menace to us all and have to be stopped no matter what the cost, I don’t know. Anyway, there are Hunters from every clan here, and nearly fifty from ours.’ He glanced significantly at Halthris. ‘And quite a few from Djarna’s.’
Vinnath was a member of Djarna’s clan. Halthris felt suddenly both apprehensive and annoyed. What was he doing here? She didn’t want to talk to him, even to see him. Too much had happened since they had last met, and she couldn’t face the thought of complicating her confused emotions even more.
But of course that was hardly fair to Vinnath, who knew nothing of this, and probably thought that her feelings were unaltered. She said, trying to sound enthusiastic, ‘Is he here, then?’
‘Vinnath? Yes, of course. He’s in the blue marek at the far end of our camp. He was very eager for news of you — I’m sure he’s waiting for you now.’
‘Thank you,’ Halthris said, her heart sinking. But little as she liked the prospect, she could not avoid him for ever, and it would be best to get this difficult and unpleasant meeting over now.
Whatever would she say to him? She knew, without the least taint of doubt, that she did not want to marry him. But what were the alternatives? She was twenty-five now — she could not stay a Hunter for ever. And neither did she think that she could settle to Hearth life. She had seen Minassa and Lelyent and Toktel’yi, and Sar D’yenyi in the morning. She had tasted new lands and new customs, and she wanted more. To return to her tribe, circumscribed by the ceaseless, monotonous rhythm of the steppe, was unthinkable.
And an Emperor-in-Waiting had desired her: and so had a King.
Face it, she thought angrily, as she urged her tired horse towards the Tanathi tents. It’s Ansaryon who lures you away — nothing else. If he did not exist, you would still be happy with Vinnath — whatever else you had seen and done.
And that was the bitterest thing of all, that she, who had controlled her life so completely up until now, could not control this. She had felt considerable affection for all her lovers — even Kettan, seen with the blindness of extreme youth, had been dear to her once. But never, ever had she experienced this longing, this temptation, this feeling that nothing was worthwhile unless he was there to share it with her. On the march from Toktel’yi, she had missed his companionship terribly, even though she had tried to tell herself that they were both occupied with much more important matters than the mere slaking of desire.
But was it just desire? Would she feel like this if they had become lovers that night in Toktel’yi, however briefly? Single Tanathi men and women played no elaborate games of courtship: mutual desire, once acknowledged, was usually indulged immediately. Never before had she wanted someone and been denied, even if she had done the denying. Was this why she felt such desperate yearning? Perhaps, if it was, she should allow her feelings free rein, in the hope that it was no more than a fire in summer grass, swift to flare up, just as swift to burn away into ashes.
She could not know. There was only one way to prove it, and that must wait until after Tsenit and the Ska’i had been defeated. She knew Ansaryon too well: he was very susceptible to emotion, and to embark on such an affair now would surely be a dangerous distraction from the vital task ahead of him.
She smiled wryly. In Toktel’yi, she had taken pride in her supposed invulnerability to the deep-buried feelings that ruled Ansaryon. And it was humiliating to realize that she herself was ruled by them too.
But now, there was Vinnath to be faced: and if he had indeed nursed a faithful devotion to her for a year and a half, she did not know how to let him down gently.
As she rode up to the blue tent, decorated with the running deer and stags that were the badges of Djama’s clan, the doorflap was pulled aside, and a man stepped out.
He was not as tall as she remembered. His dark hair was neatly bound into three braids, and he wore a bright red tunic that she knew was his best. His face, tanned, handsome, rather broad, gave nothing whatsoever away. Then he smiled, and walked towards her.
This was not going to be easy. Halthris dismounted, remembering not to drop the reins of her horse, who had not been Tanathi trained, and submitted to Vinnath’s embrace. He smelt of leather, and smoke, and the aromatic ointments which the Tanathi used to protect their skin from the harsh weather of the steppe. He had obviously taken some trouble to get ready for her.
Her unenthusiastic response must have been obvious, for he drew away from her, frowning, his hands still on her shoulders. ‘Hal? Hal, what’s wrong?’
She gave a quick shake of her head. ‘Vinnath, can we talk? Now?’
‘Of course, but — ’ He stared at her, still plainly bewildered. Several avid Tanathi faces were peering out of his tent, and he waved them away with an impatient gesture, and the pungently-expressed hope that they would all fall into a pile of horse dung in the dark. ‘Not here. We can walk down to the river, if you like. There are grey otters there — I saw one playing with her cubs yesterday.’
Usually, that information would have interested her. Now, she merely nodded. ‘Yes, that would be best. Where shall I leave my horse?’
‘We can go past the lines, and tie him up there.’ Vinnath took her arm, and guided her between the blue tent and its neighbour, belonging to Umi’s clan and covered in writhing red and purple snakes. ‘You — you look very well, Hal. I’ve missed you — I’ve been thinking about you a lot. I’m very glad you’re safe.’
