Chapter Twenty-Nine
Waerington
Halithe jerked, but the image in the bowl of the spoon never wavered.
“Even more impressive.” Ritathan sat on the hay bale near her.
“I have been practicing,” Halithe insisted, but guilt made her admit completely. “Just, not so much with candles.”
Aramal sat down opposite Ritathan and leaned in to peer at the spoon. “Who is that?” he asked.
Halithe glanced at Ritathan, who nodded.
“It’s Caris,” she blurted out. “She is one of Queen Satia’s—” she hesitated, not quite knowing what to say.
“Bondmaidens,” Ritathan finished for her.
“Hand-maidens?” Aramal looked confused.
“Also known as mage-slaves.” Ritathan said. “We don’t know how it was done, but there is a taint of blood magic to the bond. It was probably done at birth, or at least when she was a babe.”
“But,” Halithe clutched the spoon tight and the image shimmered and broke apart.
“She’s not, not completely. She has a spark of resistance, and she is smart and lovely and,” she brought the spoon to her chest, “I’ve seen it, I know she does, and if we can find a way to break it I know she will—” She cut herself off, not wanting to speak of her hope for the future.
“Ah,” Ritathan said sadly and slowly. “Leeda, I don’t want to discourage you, but…” his voice trailed off, and in the distance, she heard the music start up again, something slower and stately. Aramal crossed his arms over his chest.
“Those mage bonds have been in place for a very long time,” Ritathan said. “Neither I, nor Guildmaster Forterran, have any clue as to how to break that bond, not for her nor for any of the others.”
“Others?” Aramal asked.
“There are…or were…five.” Ritathan explained. “Each Bound with golden cords tinged with red traces and all tied to Satia. They can only be seen with mage-sight.”
“But we saw that one was cut off,” Halithe protested. “At the rim of the Wastes.”
Ritathan nodded. “We did, and we don’t have a clue what happened to the maiden, do we?
” He rubbed his face. “Leeda, even if you could break the bond, Caris might be injured in the process. And even if she wasn’t hurt physically, she might be damaged in other ways.
” It was his turn to fold his arms over his chest, pressing his hands into his armpits as if suddenly cold.
“She is enslaved, and sudden freedom is not an easy thing.”
Halithe opened her mouth to protest, but he held up his hand. “It also might take you years to accomplish this goal.”
Halithe thrust the spoon in her pocket and folded her arms over her chest. “She is worth waiting for.”
“I’m not sure that is true,” Ritathan said. “You have your whole life ahead of you and I don’t want you to waste it on waiting.”
“I waited for you,” Aramal said.
His words dropped them both into stunned silence.
“And you were worth waiting for,” Aramal finished, lifting his eyes to look at Ritathan.
“You—” Ritathan cracked out the words. “You waited?”
“I did,” Aramal said. “I had no hope, but it never felt right to make a promise to another when I had already given you my heart.”
Halithe sat as still as she possibly could, not even daring to breathe.
“You shouldn’t have,” Ritathan’s voice was raw and anguished. “I wasn’t worth it. I’m not worth it. I left you.” The last bit was almost a cry.
“You left to pursue a dream, and look at you,” Aramal’s eyes were wet. “So strong, so powerful. You have achieved so much—”
They both went silent, staring into each other’s eyes. Halithe stayed frozen, eyes darting between the two, afraid to break the moment.
She needn’t have bothered. They only had eyes for each other.
“My only relationship was ever with the power,” Ritathan said. “I didn’t think I wanted anything else.”
“And now?” Aramal’s voice was soft and smooth, just a whisper.
“Now I have no right to ask,” Ritathan said, his hands folded in his lap, his head down. She’d never heard him sound so crushed. “I can impose my will on the world, but not on you.”
“Foolish man,” Aramal reached out and grabbed the front of Rye’s tunic, his fingers curling to gather the fabric. “So powerful, and yet so foolish.” He pulled him in, bringing their foreheads together. “You don’t have to ask.”
Delighted, Halithe slid from her seat, blushing fiercely, and slipped away. But she couldn’t resist one look behind, to see them in each others arms.
She couldn’t quite keep the smile off her face, or the skip from her step as she skirted the square, dodging through the crowd. It wasn’t hard to spot Amari and Orval, they had quite a group gathered around them. She slid through and found a place beside Amari.
Amari smiled. “We were just planning to leave. The children need to be put to bed. Where are Rye and Aramal?”
“Oh, I think they will come later,” Halithe said. She leaned in close to whisper. “They may have figured it out.”
Amari’s eyebrows shot up, and to Halithe’s delight, she gave her a very adult, very secret smile. “Ah,” she said, lifting Dalan to her shoulder. “In that case—”
A horn call split the air, and the square went quiet for a moment as all heads turned to the sound. Another peal and talk resumed all around them.
“You might want to wait,” Jerrold said. “There’s a messenger on the road, not more than a mile off and headed this way.”
The messenger was covered in mud and looked wrung out as he stood before them
“Rasfel, isn’t it?” Orval asked. A crowd of the older folk had gathered around to hear the news. Halithe stayed close to Rosalind in the press of people.
“Aye, Lord,” Rasfel grinned. “You remembered.”
“Hard to forget the one who put a bag over my head,” Orval said drily.
Rasfel grinned again, his teeth white against his filthy face. A wave of amusement rippled through the crowd; all knew that tale. Halithe smiled too; she’d heard the story from Yfin.
“Not a word more until you’ve had ale and something to eat.” Amari scolded. “We can wait at least that long.”
“Ale’s welcome,” Rasfel said, “but if I eat, I’ll sleep.
” He took an ale from a friendly hand and quaffed it.
“A hard ride, Lord, and what with the roads being bad it took me longer than expected.” He dug into his satchel and drew out a bundle wrapped in waxed cloth.
“I’ve messages from King Xyrath for you, your Lordship. ”
Orval took the packet.
“What word?” Jerrold asked gruffly.
“Word?” Rasfel asked with a grimace. “Likes of them don’t talk to likes of me.
I’d barely time to water the horses before they were throwing me back in the saddle.
” He turned back to Orval. “I did manage to get your letters to Mistress Winter. She said she’d see the other delivered.
” Rasfel grew wistful. “Wish I could have lingered.”
“She runs a fine establishment,” Orval said absently.
“Has Satia borne her child?” Amari asked.
“Nah, Lady, the talk was all breathless as to when,” Rasfel said. “That was about all anyone talked of.”
“They didn’t ask you questions?” Jerrold frowned. “Nothing about roads, or conditions, or…” he let his voice trail off as his eyes flicked over Orval, who had opened the bundle and was reading.
“Nothing,” Rasfel said, and held out his mug for a refill. “Ain’t that a crock? If they’re sending an army, they’re sending it blind. I saw no signs of scouts between here and there.”
Ritathan had told Halithe that the Black Hills were worried about an attack, but this was the first she’d really understood what that meant.
“King Xyrath and Queen Satia send greetings,” Orval said. “They’re sending some folk to take a look at the ‘progress of the statuary’ and escort the marble to Edenrich.” He rolled his eyes. “Their words, not mine.”
Jerrold stiffened. “When?” he asked.
“Some time after the birth of the Queen’s babe. They will send a messenger prior.” Orval handed him the letter. “They are opening a portal.”
There were worried looks, then, and muttering from the people around them. Jerrold looked particularly grim. Townspeople welcomed Rasfel home, patting him on the back. Orval thanked him for his speed and there was some talk about the condition of the roads until the man swayed on his feet.
“Enough,” Amari said, holding a sleeping babe. “The rest can wait, we need to be getting these babes in their beds.” She glanced at Halithe. “Aramal and Rye can find their own way back.”
With that, it was gathering up things and making farewells. The music started up again and people drifted back to the dancing. The Festival would go on long into the night.
Halithe found herself yawning on the trip back, and once they were home, by the time the animals and babes were seen too, she was bleary-eyed and sleepy.
“Off with you,” Rosalind said. Halithe went willingly, with just a quick wash before going to her room and setting down the candle by the door. She pulled off her tunic, kicked her trous off and stripped, being careful to grab her spoon from her pocket.
Throwing back the covers, she climbed into bed, pulling the bedding over her and for a moment, she lay still in the darkness, remembering the delight in the day.
Then she recalled Ritathan’s warning.
‘Even if you could break the bond, she might be injured in the process.’
A wave of grief hit her. Perhaps Papa Rye was right, perhaps she would never have what he and Aramal had, what Amari and Orval shared. If they didn’t know how to break the bonds, if the Guildmaster didn’t know what the effect would be, who was Halithe to even think of such a thing?
The cold, hard truth was that she and Caris had only shared the slightest of kisses, the briefest of exchanges. Maybe Halithe was reading too much into it. Maybe it was just a fantasy, a dream, a hope.
Before anguish could overwhelm her, she dug under her pillow for the precious auburn hairs wrapped in a bit of cloth. She brought the spoon up, angled the bowl to reflect the candle light, and drew a breath. “Show me,” she whispered.
The silver shone, bright as a beacon and the image appeared. Precious Caris, sitting in a window sill, looking out at the night sky.
Halithe smiled, her sadness ebbing.
Caris had her knees tucked up, her hands in her lap, a look of longing on her face; pensive and still. She held something in those lovely hands with the long fingers and perfect nails.
A badly hemmed nappie.
Halithe’s breath caught, as a rush of joy, of excitement flooded through her. Caris felt it too, clearly, and she would find a way, she’d free her…her love, and they’d be free together.
Something distracted Caris, who jerked, hiding the nappie. She rose, and the image flickered and faded.
It might be a dream, an unrealistic dream, but it was hers.
No. It was theirs.
Halithe sighed, content, and carefully placed the spoon by the bedside. She cuddled down, her eyes fluttering closed.
The candle still burned, over by the door.
Halithe yawned, too content to move. With the merest thought, she focused and snuffed out the flame.
In the morning, she rose, bright and early, and ran down the steps to the kitchen. There were chores to do and lessons, and practice.
Aramal was there, and reddened when he caught sight of her. “Umm, Ritathan is still sleeping. I couldn’t rouse him. We were up late.” He blushed harder, looking at the floor.
Halithe laughed, rushed over, and hugged him hard. “Good morning, Da.”
Aramal laughed and returned the hug.