Chapter 3

 

Tam awoke in his room. It was dark, save for one dim lamp. His father sat by the bed. "Your servant told me you were at the end of your endurance, but I ignored him," the Protector said. "I ask your forgiveness. You helped me more than I can say when you stood up for yourself, but I never meant for you to risk your life. Mimn has told everyone he can't identify the poison in your cup, so that will let me send you to Lochil where the Guardian can heal you."

"May I ask what the real reason is?" He knew there was one.

Sidian bowed his head. "I can't keep you safe, even with the guards! If you had emptied that cup, you'd be dead." He picked up the aching hands and held them in his own. The lanchets clung like leeches. "Tameron--why did you hurt yourself?" His father's voice held anguish, not anger.

He tried to find the words. "I can't be your heir without magic, Father. I didn't want to be ordinary, but that's what I am!"

"You will never be ordinary. When you spoke today, I was proud of you."

He swallowed hard. Compliments from his father were so rare he remembered every one. He’d store this one away like treasure.

Lord Sidian continued. "Trust me. I'll find you a way. You'll become well during the winter, far away from all this nonsense. By spring even the Sandegas will see things my way."

"Why must it take so long for me to heal?" Tam asked. "Is it some kind of curse because Mother died when I was born?"

The only movement on his father's face came from the flickers of the lamplight as silence fell between them. Then he spoke. "None of this is your fault, son. I'll be honest with you. I had hoped that you'd have magic of your own. I want you to know that you're still all I could wish for just the way you are. I can't tell you everything yet, but the time will come when all your questions will be answered. I never thought time would pass so quickly, Tam. I thought I had years yet, only to turn around and see you grown already.

"I know it's late at night, but you must leave now. Stine herself will lead your escort, and by tomorrow morning it will be far too late for anyone on the Council to call you back. Can you walk to the postern gate?"

Tameron struggled to sit up, and managed it with a bit of help from his father. "Is Randor coming, too?"

"Of course he is. Here, lean on me. Randor, are you ready?"

The servant entered, carrying an extra cloak. "His things are packed and the litter's ready," Randor said. "Wear this, young master, it's chilly outside."

His father and Randor were on either side of him as Tam got his balance and walked slowly through the anteroom towards the hallway. Despite the hint of danger at this clandestine departure, he felt safe between these two men, and happier than he had been for a long time. At the postern gate, the Protector bade him farewell and wished him an easy journey. "My sister will do all she can to care for you once you're there," he said. Commander Stine took over once he was outside. She was hooded and cloaked, and not wearing any of the badges of her rank. Tam wondered at that, but said nothing.

Randor helped him into the litter and made sure he was wrapped warmly. "Go ahead and sleep if you can, lad," said the older man.

"Is there a litter for you, too?" Tam asked. He was suddenly weary. He'd lost so much already, he wanted to make sure he didn't lose Randor, too. Everything was wrong side up, and only the padding in the horse-box kept him from falling.

"I'm not so old that I can't ride. The first posting house is less than a day's journey from here, and I'll rest then. The Protector said that he can keep the Council from finding out you're gone for at least a couple of days."

Tameron nodded, willing to let matters lie in the lap of the Lord and Lady for now.

As far as he could tell, he slept for most of the next couple of days in spite of the jolting speed they were making. Stine must be changing horses at every stop, he thought as he began to stay awake longer. He made up his mind to ride as soon as he could. For one thing, Randor looked older every time he saw him, and could likely use the litter himself.

In less than a week he asked to have a horse saddled. If nothing else, he'd manage for a couple of hours each day while Randor lay down. Stine instantly granted permission, which startled Tam. How much danger are we in?

As long as his horse wasn't restive, Tam was able to hold the reins properly, and was actually more comfortable on horseback than being jolted in the litter over most of the North Road to Lochil. He cheered up even more when he saw the lanchets beginning to shrivel. Perhaps they were mimicking the falling leaves. To top things off, Stine looked at him with approval.

The commander visited him one evening after they'd stopped at a posting house instead of camping alongside the road. "How are you doing, Lord Tameron? Feeling better?"

"Yes, sir," he said. His wrists barely hurt at all now, and he was sleeping much better at night. He wouldn’t mind a real bed, though.

"It's too bad you ended up in the middle of this," she said. "Was this the first attempt on your life, or the second?"

"I don't like talking about it," Tam said, quite truthfully. What an idiot I was! He sat straighter in his chair.

She bent down to face him. "And nobody bothered to tell me! Well, that explains why your weakness was kept hidden before you were poisoned. Someone probably learned you weren't going to be a mage and weren't going to be sent away before they discussed it in Council. Nothing to do with anyone's ambition to have a child adopted into the Protector's line, of course! I don't understand why you weren’t cured with magic, though. You were hanging on by a thread even before you spit the poison back into their faces. Some think that Mimn is no good any more except for the Protector, but I don't understand why another healer wasn't brought in."

"I've always been kept away when I was sick or hurt," he said. "Esa nursed me, or Randor, even when I broke my arm at the farm one summer. I thought it was because my father didn't like having me around when I’m…I’m not perfect."

Stine's eyes went wide. "He might not say anything around you, but he worries himself sick whenever it happens. He nearly had my ears off when we came back from that raid last spring and I told him about that bandit you spitted. Did I know what could have happened, he once said, as if I haven't been fighting for twenty years, and so on. But if it's what I think it might be, no wonder he's kept you in hiding."

"I don't know what you mean," Tam said. Now that he thought about it, it didn't make sense.

The commander stood up and stretched. "Healing spells don't work on a few people," she said softly. "Very few. A good thing you're not a girl, or you might have gone to Dever Tower by now for your own protection. If that's your problem, guess what your father's enemies will try if they get that idea in their heads."

"Maybe they already know," Tameron said. He felt queasy at the idea of being a Blessed Mother. He didn’t know that ever happened with boys. Did they end up in Dever Tower, too?

"I hope not, lad." Stine shook her head. "I think they were probably just too afraid to try magic in front of everyone in the Council Chamber. Especially with the Protector right there!"

"That could be true, too," he said. He remembered wondering if his father was shadowing his powers. He should have asked when he'd had the chance. He'd prefer that to any thought of being so—so different. He yawned.

"Don't be troubled about it for now," Stine said, as she turned to leave. "Once we're in Lochil the Guardian will help. She's pretty reasonable for a Cloaked One."

Tameron hoped so. His father's sister was one of the four Guardians who held Wizardwall together at the elemental anchor points of Fiallyn Mor. Neyarmie Isle, in the middle of Kadramas Lake just north of Lochil, was the anchor point for the Earth spirit that most called the Giant. Why his mother had been there when she'd given birth to him, with only the Guardian to help, he didn't know.

Despite her reputation as a healer, the Guardian was even stronger in the Element of earth than she was in water. An air mage guarded the passes to the top of Mount Shiast in the south, a fire mage watched over the flames in the center of Diesa Tower to the east, while a water mage controlled the western anchor point in the middle of the pool leading to a river near the town of Warding.

Stine yawned. "Long day ahead. Don't be too embarrassed to ride in the litter when you're tired. We'll lose more time if you fall over again the way you almost did yesterday. I'll be glad when you're well enough for drill, mind you. Go through it in your head when you have nothing else to do. I did that once when I was down with marsh fever, and I didn't lose as much tone from all that lying about as I thought I was going to."

Tameron agreed, but quickly fell asleep when she left. He'd had a few bad nights on this journey, but that had ended once he'd started riding. Randor had mumbled something about Mimn and his potions, but Tam didn't see why his servant was upset. Mimn's cups had helped when he'd needed the strength to sit in the Council Chamber and fight for his rights. It wasn't like Randor had the power to let him rest.

A few days later they rode into Lochil just at sunset. The middle-sized town was nestled due south of Kadramas Lake, whose dark gray waters surrounded the mist-covered island near the shore. High stone ramparts protected Lochil and the lake, forming a wall pierced only by the road from Kelemath. The people of the town mostly lived off the trade brought in by pilgrims wishing to see the lake and consult the Guardian on various questions.

The day's light rapidly disappeared beyond the high horizon. Tam gripped the reins--he could do that now--and straightened in the saddle. Several people stopped to watch them go by. Most of them seemed to be staring at Stine, who had donned her best armor, rather than him.

Once they entered the large holding near the lake ruled by the Guardian, he and his party were quickly ushered inside and fed in a large hall near the kitchens. Stine helped him to the Guardian's audience chamber as soon as they'd finished eating. Even here he was escorted by several soldiers.

Tameron bowed to the Guardian, once known as the Lady Sigaldo. Even though the drooping hood she always wore covered her face, he felt safe here as he never did anywhere else. It had been kindness to send him to Lochil, not just necessity. "Greetings, my lady," he said, glad his voice seemed to be through changing. At least for today.

"Please sit. I've been told you aren't well. I grieve that political quarrels have so many innocent victims."

He decided not to lie to her. "My lady, it was my own foolishness which brought this on." He wouldn't have needed any potion if he hadn't risked his life just for the chance of being able to work a few spells.

She waved a hand. A glowing wall suddenly surrounded just the two of them. "You may speak frankly here. Your father has already told me mind-to-mind of what happened. You carry a terrible burden, but there are reasons for it."

Tameron sat on a chair thoughtfully included within the bubble of silence. "I promise not to behave disgracefully while I'm here, my lady. Since I have no magic, I have to learn how to do justice without it somehow if I'm going to be the Protector's heir. But why didn't Father send a healer to me? Does magic work on me? Has he put some kind of shield on me for some reason? Or..." he hesitated a moment, hoping his father wouldn't lie to him. "Did he shadow my powers? Do I have any?"

She sighed. "Your father hoped that you would have magic, as he told you, especially since all his other children did. You don't, at least not in the way that most people understand."

"Isn't that strange? Why did they have them when I don't?"

"It's a long story. Do you know how the Wizards' College matches talents together and your Duty to the family?"

"I know that it's unusual for one couple to be allowed to have all their children together," Tam said, "but I suppose it makes sense with my brothers and sisters all having magic. Now that I think about it, I am surprised that the College didn't ask him to find someone else after my mother's death. I mean, he did his own Duty, but the Honored Mothers are asked to do far more. Everyone knows the College gives them all they ask if they continue past the usual number. With my brothers and sisters dead, I would have thought..."

"Oh, believe me, they tried to convince him!" Sigaldo said harshly.

"But that doesn't make sense. If he had other children, he wouldn't have to depend on me." Tameron was confused. He'd grown up knowing that most mages fulfilled their Duty to either sire or bear four offspring with partners chosen by the Council or the College, with hope that at least two of them would have powers. In return, they gained the freedom to choose someone they loved as their life partner. Ordinary people married as they liked, or as their families told them to. His father probably had a match in mind for him to help keep the peace. Perhaps even Lady Kiliane to keep the Sandegas sweet! Her image flashed in his mind.

"But he does depend on you. He is much older than he looks, Tameron, and so am I. He decided you were worth the trouble. As for some of your other questions, I promise to answer those at another time."

Tam noticed how carefully she'd avoided most of them. What would happen to him? He wasn't even old enough for the festivals at Midsummer. "Am I going to be an ordinary person and marry someone for good, or am I expected to do the Duty of a mage by the College? Or both?"

The Guardian bowed her head. "I don't know," she said. "It's possible that all your own children will have magic, so I doubt the College would be content to have you choose just one partner if that's the case. However, that doesn't make you useless for anything else. Half the population of Fiallyn Mor has no skill in magic, either. Some of them join the raiders you fought against earlier this year because they have no hope. Your father has plans for the day when all of us have some powers, but that's far in the future. Now he sees you can serve as a symbol of all that is best about the common people, as well as providing him grandchildren who may be stronger in the Elements than he is. The powerless won't be so likely to rebel when they see you treated with honor, while some mages may not oppress them so much if they know they might have to answer to you."

He'd never thought of that. Maybe he wouldn't be just a figurehead after all. "How?" he asked. He remembered the shouts of those who'd demanded that he leave the Council Chamber and not disgrace it with his common flesh.

"Such people often rule Outside. In fact, some lands beyond Wizardwall forbid mages to command others at all. Sometimes for good reason. It's hard to focus on the needs of others when magic is constantly calling."

Tam bent forward in the chair, suddenly exhausted. "I don't have any to give up," he snapped, "so it should be easier for me, I suppose." He felt sorry as soon as he'd spoken. The Protector often had severe headaches during Council season, and complained that not being able to use his great powers contributed to them.

"In that way it will be easier," the Guardian said softly. "In other ways it will be much harder for you."

"How long will I last when some wizard is angry at me? Maybe he'll just put a glamor on me so I'll do what he wants me to," he wondered out loud. Unless he was truly free from magic's power. Then he remembered the poisoned cup in the Council Chamber. "If I live long enough for anyone to care..."

"Then you must take precautions," the Guardian said. "Commander Stine can teach you what you need to know to protect yourself. As for the rest, you must learn to rely on yourself alone. I wish you didn't have this lesson so soon." Her voice had despair in it.

"What a choice! I live in fear or I will die." Tameron covered his face with his hands.

The Guardian was silent. Then she finally spoke. "If it's any comfort, your father is sometimes just as terrified as you are. Even his great magic can't always stop his enemies from trying to break his own shields. If he makes them too strong, he can no longer see out of them and he is as mind blind as you are. If he doesn't make them strong enough, he pays a terrible price at times for that as well.

"You're safe here, Tam. That much I can give you. All the Guardians of Fiallyn Mor take oaths to protect those in their custody, oaths sworn to the Elements themselves. Your father visits the Anchor points as well, not only to see that all is going as it should, but so that he might rest."

Tameron let his hands drop, and swallowed back tears. "Thank you." For so long he'd blithely assumed that the world belonged to him, and that all the faces looking at him were friendly ones. Oh, he'd been warned about the malice behind some facades, but he'd never truly feared other nobles before tasting the poisoned cup in the Council Chamber.

"Now come over here," she said. "You've been ill for too long. I'll send you into a deep sleep, and you'll feel better after that. There's more to the healer's art than you know."

He knelt before her as she placed her long, white hands on his head. He felt so weary. The Guardian's murmurs were like a half-forgotten lullaby, the kind Esa used to sing him when he was a child.

"Softly comes the night at end of day," she whispered softly. "Leave off your cares and let them fly away..." Tam swayed back and forth a little as his eyes began to close. Maybe it was his own weariness and not magic, but he thought he could sleep better here than anywhere else.

His aunt let her hands drop to his shoulders, patted him, and then spoke out loud as the shimmering cloud disappeared. "Go to bed and sleep. I'll tell your escort that I've found the poison, but you're still weak from its effects. They respect you for your endurance, while some are even angry that no one's helped you. You have more friends than you think. Oh, I wish your father had sent you to me earlier!"

Tameron would have kissed her hand if it had been allowed. He rose to his feet and bowed. The Guardian told everyone they were dismissed. Stine and Randor assisted him up a short flight of stairs to a bedroom. He lay on the bed while Randor departed for a moment. At least she'd promised to answer the rest of his questions.

His servant returned with a large cup full of some brown liquid. It tasted odd, but he drank it anyway. He was so thirsty, and had been ever since--since that night. If he couldn’t trust the Guardian, he may as well give up.

He rapidly drifted into sleep. Voices wove in and out of his blurry, confused dreams. Stine's gruff tones wound around memories of sword drill and riding on patrol last spring. Randor's familiar mutter made him feel safe no matter what other visions he had, while his aunt's soft voice reminded him of Esa caring for him when he was sick. Do I have a shield around me like the one the Guardian mentioned? he wondered. She never really told me if magic affected me or not. What does it mean if it doesn't?

He slept on, willing to let her worry about it for now. Then he finally woke up. His eyes felt sticky from sleep, and it felt good to clear them. Then he looked at his wrists. The lanchets were gone! The scars left behind were still raw-looking, but would probably fade. 

Tam sat up as he heard voices, though there was nobody in the room. It wasn't from outside his door, either. Maybe he really did have magic, and it'd taken all this to uncover it? Or maybe the Guardian had found his shield, and removed it! He was willing to risk being vulnerable to the spells of others if he could only work some of his own.

He swung his legs over the bed and nearly fell from dizziness. Judging by the light coming through the double-paned window, it was morning. He yawned and stretched. He tensed as the voices stopped. Maybe he was still half-asleep and had just dreamed hearing things.

Then people began to speak again. Tameron hung onto the bedpost and got to his feet. He turned his head. The sounds were just a bit louder to one side, and became clearer in a corner across from his bed. He could almost make out words as he went to his knees and pressed his ear to the floor. The wooden tile of the parquet floor was loose at one edge. Tam pried at it with his dagger, and it came out easily. A honeycombed grill of metal underneath caught the sound and funneled it to him. He held the tile to keep light from his room from going down into the hole and betraying his presence. A pity it wasn't under the bed. He was disappointed, of course, because it wasn't magical, but he wasn't about to stop listening.

"Why can't you decide this now?" said an older man, his voice fearful.

"The Protector's son is in residence and should be consulted. His rank must be respected. I will, of course, advise him." Tameron recognized the Guardian's voice.

"I'm not worried. Even a child could understand this case!" said a much younger man, judging by how he sounded.

He heard footsteps outside the door of his room. He quickly replaced the tile and scrambled to his bed.

Randor stepped inside, holding another cup. His face brightened. "Finally awake, are you? I thought you were going to sleep forever."

Tam yawned and shook his head. "I know it's late in the day," he said. "I feel a lot better, though." The gray exhaustion that had shadowed him ever since he'd sliced his wrists open was fading fast. He still wasn't strong, but something that had dragged at him before was gone.

"You've been out for four days," Randor said. "I was worried, but the Guardian said it was all right, and that you needed the rest. She said you should drink this once a day till the next full moon. I thought her spells worked faster, but she's done you less harm than Mimn has."

Tameron grimaced at the taste of liver as he drank the heavy brown liquid in the cup. At least it took the edge off his hunger. He dressed quickly, with only a little help, while the long sleeves of the tunic hid the scars on his wrists.

He flexed his arms to test their strength. It didn't hurt to move his hands at all now. He'd have to try a little sword drill soon. He must be horribly out of practice. "Thank you, Randor. For everything," he said. "When's breakfast?" Or any meal. Even with the meaty soup the Guardian sent him, his appetite was sharp this morning.

"As soon as you come downstairs. Don't push yourself too hard, lad. There's no need for it here. Your father did you a favor sending you away this time," Randor said. "Now, let's go. The Guardian herself will eat with us."

That was a rare privilege. She normally ate and slept in complete privacy, as those were the only times she could remove the hood that concealed her face. It was an old custom, which allowed any Guardian to exercise justice even against mages without involving family connections. He supposed it was a symbol of the tradition that the person who lived before becoming an Anchor for Wizardwall no longer existed.

Tam was grateful for such great hospitality. As he walked down the stairs, he suddenly felt dizzy and hung on to the rail. Randor supported him and whispered encouragement. "It's hard the first day up. Your color's better than it's been for weeks. Don't worry about it." He nodded. It was his fault anyway that he was still so weak.

Once at the table, he greeted his aunt and eagerly looked at the plates heaped with food. The Guardian directed the table-servant to fill Tam's platter with roasted meat and stewed greens. He also wanted fried sliced hicki, a common thick root, preferably slathered with butter and salt, and devoured it all before helping himself to apple slices in honey and cream.

The Lady Sigaldo kept her cowl on, of course, but managed to make her own meal disappear. Tameron appreciated her presence. The little time she didn't have to wear the hood probably meant a lot to her. She was kind to give it up today for his sake.

She leaned back in the chair and sighed. "Tameron, two gentlemen came here three days ago seeking justice. Do you feel strong enough to listen to their pleas, or do you want to wait?"

"My father has always said that justice delayed is justice denied," Tam said. "I don't know what I can do, my lady, but I'll try. Am--am I dressed properly?" He hoped the Guardian would assist him. The Protector often became impatient when he didn't understand something as quickly as he should.

"I'd prefer more formal garb," she said dryly.

He took the hint and finished eating. Randor went upstairs and fetched the proper clothes, then helped Tam change into them in a nearby chamber. The glittering, beaded garments proclaimed him the Protector's son to anyone with decent eyesight. Fortunately he looked elegant in the blue of his father's clan, though the outfit was nearly as heavy as armor and just as uncomfortable.

The Guardian murmured her approval, and then led him into the audience room just below his own quarters. Two chairs stood on a short dais. One was solid cameowood, with a few carvings that showed the lighter layer of wood beneath the darker one. He had always wanted to work with the satiny material, but he really wasn't good enough yet. He hoped his tools had been brought with him on the hasty journey to Lochil. The other chair was a throne-like affair with bright blue cushions on the back and seat. Lady Sigaldo motioned him towards the padded one. "You represent the power of your father's court, while mine is altogether different," she said. "Besides, those beads are likely unpleasant enough to wear already. I have sensible robes, and my bones are not so old that I need extra protection for them."

Tam hated looking like a stuffed doll on display. He'd had enough of that in Kelemath. He bowed out of courtesy, and said, "To those who know, your chair is still more valuable."

"Ah." There was a smile in her voice. "Not many see so clearly, even with magic. However, those who plead before you today will be more impressed with you, which should help."

He hoped so, and sat down. His mouth went dry as two men walked in. One was almost Randor's age, with graying dark hair, watery blue eyes, and a scraggly beard. His voice had a whine in it as he introduced himself as Lord Honnold of Drizmere, an estate to the east and south of Lochil. Tam hated him on sight, and then rebuked himself. Justice was too important to be swayed by personal preferences. He was surprised the case hadn't gone to Bogatay, a town closer to the man's holding.

Jarrett, the other man was younger and claimed to be Honnold's cousin. He had a bristly black beard and brilliant blue eyes, while his voice was deep and clear. They were obviously the men he'd heard earlier this morning.

The Guardian summarized the case. "We have a dispute over a child, a woman, and some land. The woman is named Marysalian, and she wed Lord Honnold six or seven years ago. Her family agreed to allow some of their land to go with her. No children were born for about two years. Then young Jarrett visited his cousin for a few months and then departed. There's some argument about what happened during that time, but less than a year later she had a son. Two years after that, she disappeared from the household with the boy, and neither one has been seen since. The rest of her family is also gone. Jarrett is here to claim the woman, the child, and the land given as part of her marriage contract for his own. Lord Honnold disputes that claim, and wants us to help him find his wife and son so he can welcome them back home. You may ask questions if you wish, or offer a judgment on what I've told you so far."

Tameron felt dizzy, mostly from what he could guess hadn't been said. "I would like to hear your statements for myself," he said. He already knew from Council meetings how somebody spoke was nearly as important as what they said. Commander Stine had also taught him how to watch an enemy's every movement.

Honnold gave his story first. He seemed more upset at losing the boy than his wife. The older man also accused Jarrett of spiriting both of them away.

"You drove her away!" Jarrett cried.

Lord Honnold gritted his teeth. "I have the right to speak without interruption!"

Tameron listened intently to the rest of the narrative. Had the woman fled? If so, why had she taken the child with her? If she'd been as evil as Honnold painted her, why did he want her back? The man's fists clenched whenever he spoke of her, which didn't bode well either.

When Honnold was done, Tam thanked him, and asked Jarrett to give his side of things. The younger man told a tale of inescapable passion. He'd only wanted to soothe the pain of a beloved woman tormented by a spiteful husband who flaunted another lover in her face. Jarrett's face softened as he spoke of Marysalian, describing the beauty of her face and eyes. Tameron was nearly lulled into swallowing the whole story until he considered what also hadn't been said on this side.

What happened when Marysalian and her son left, if indeed they were still alive? Where was Jarrett then? Why didn't he know where she was already? In fact, why had it taken so long for this case to come here in the first place?

Tam reserved judgment till he had more answers. He tried to put himself into the state of pure focus he occasionally achieved at sword drill. It helped him hide how nervous he really was.

"The most important witness is not here," he said. "This case has waited too long already, though. Please be patient while I ask you questions. Lord Honnold, did you give your heart to this woman, or only your name? I will send for others from your household if I must." He hoped he was allowed to do so. He might have to, if that was the only way to find out the truth.

The older man bowed his head. "Well, if you must know, I made this marriage for my line and not for me," he said.

"Any bond with any woman would be false for you!" Jarrett cried. "Toran's the only one you really care for."

"It's no crime to love one way and marry another! The Lord Protector himself has done the same, or so they say. Why, nearly any mage can sing the same song!"

Tameron blinked. It began to make sense. Some people preferred their own gender. Yet he'd always thought those with magic had less freedom in that way with the Duty to be considered. But his father? He knew the Protector and Coris Mimn were close, but never considered they might be lovers. That would explain why his father didn't remarry after Lady Aliana's death. "Why didn't you adopt a child, then?" he asked Honnold. "Perhaps a child of your cousin? Why force yourself to marry if you didn't have to?"

"That's what he wanted, but with her land thrown in as well," Jarrett interrupted.

"Please be quiet. I will have questions for you, too," Tameron said sharply. He wasn't happy with either side. "Lord Honnold, were you cruel to her or the child? I remind you again that other witnesses can be called."

Honnold's face fell. "Aye. I gave her the back of my hand more than I ought, though she taunted me and called me less than a man. She knew how it was with me before the wedding. Toran stood by my side even when I called on her parents. She agreed anyway. Then she betrayed me, the slut, and tried to pass off the fruit of her lust as mine. I told her I'd shut my eyes this once, but then she made eyes at another handsome man! Maybe I did hit her too hard that time. It wasn't the child's fault he ended up in the way just then, either. I was going to tell her it was over between us the next morning, but she was already gone and the boy with her. I went to her parents' home to talk to them, but they were gone, too. For all I know she's walking the streets of Kelemath selling herself! Toran told me I was a fool to marry when I made up the contract. I wish to the Lord and Lady I'd listened to him!"

Tameron swallowed hard. And he'd had the audacity to think his life was hard! "That was years ago. Why are you here now?"

"Jarrett, here, storms onto my place and says if I don't tell him where she is, that he'll skewer me like meat on a spit! He wasn't content with the justice he heard from the mage in Bogatay, and said he'd take it to the Lord Protector himself. He's got nothing better to do, but I have a holding to run. As for an heir, Jarrett knows he's it when I'm gone except for Toran's fair share. He just wants it all now."

That was possible. Tam whispered to the Guardian, "My lady, may I ask you questions?"

"You'd be a fool if you didn't," she murmured back.

"My lady, has Lord Honnold cared for his land and his wife's land well? Has he paid his Tenth without hurting the people who depend on him?" he asked.

The Guardian nodded. "Yes, he has. In fact, he's also cared for the land of his wife's family since they disappeared."

How convenient. Maybe Honnold had done away with all of them to keep the land for himself. Tameron noticed that Jarrett looked ready to fight. I have a few questions for you, too. "Thank you, Lord Honnold," he said in a tone that meant he was done for now. "Ser Jarrett," he continued, doing his best to be polite, "why has this taken so long? How many years has it been since you met your cousin's wife?"

The younger man looked sullen. "Five...maybe six. I left the place with nothing but the clothes on my back, and I couldn't just drag her off to the woods. Her parents didn't like me. So I hired on as a guard for an expedition Outside. It took a long time to get back. I tried to send messages, but I doubt they got through."

Honnold looked smug, so Tam thought that was likely true. "Did you appeal to the mage in Bogatay?" he asked.

"He's in my cousin's left pocket! Oh, I went through the motions, but what do you think he said? Why should he lose a position where he can collect from all sides? Besides, Honnold didn't mind keeping his lover with him. What gives him the right to tell his wife what to do? You've got to find her! She might not even be alive!"

Tameron didn't know what to do, or whom to believe. He asked the Guardian to provide truthspell for the next few questions. She agreed, and prepared two bowls of water. Then she had Honnold and Jarrett place their hands in one basin each, and warned them that the liquid would change color whenever they told a lie.

Tam took a deep breath. "Lord Honnold, did you kill your wife?" Honnold denied it. The water stayed clear. "Lord Honnold, do you plan to harm her if she returns?"

The older man started to speak, then changed his tale as the water began turning black. "Yes. She must be punished. How dare she take my son from me!"

Jarrett looked angry. "It is better we know now," the Guardian said.

Tameron continued asking questions. "Did you hire anybody to hurt Marysalian, the boy, or any members of her family?" Honnold denied it truthfully. "Is there anyone who believes he'll gain your favor if he disposes of them?"

Honnold sighed. "Toran's urged me to hunt them down several times, but I've always told him no."

"What about your pet mage?" Jarrett said angrily.

"I stay out of his way and he stays out of mine," Honnold said. The water began to darken. "All right, maybe he does favor me. He favors anyone with gold." The liquid cleared.

Tam shook inside, and hoped no one could see it. No wonder Jarrett had been so insistent on seeing the Guardian. Mages were supposed to seek justice, not their own personal gain. Still, something didn't ring true in the younger man's story. "Why did it take so long for you to seek her out?" he asked.

"I couldn't help it," Jarrett said. His own bowl changed color. He stared down at it and frowned. "I didn't think he'd really hurt her. She said he didn't care what she did as long as she gave him a child."

That was more like the truth, Tameron saw. He asked both of them if they knew where Marysalian or her family might be. They both claimed to have no idea, and the water in both bowls stayed clear. Tam didn't know what to do then. He took a deep breath. "We have several problems here. Where are Marysalian, her son, and the rest of her family? Are they alive? Who is the father of her child? Jarrett, you left without a thought for her. Did you have to be gone so long? Did either of you men set aside a jewel for the boy?" The father of any children saw to their welfare by providing a gem or other item of value to start them off in life once they were grown. That was true of any family.

Both men hung their heads. Tameron tried to figure out what else was wrong. He turned towards the Guardian. "My lady, I thought a new mage spent a year in a village, and then returned to the Wizards' College. How many did Jarrett talk to? If there were more than one, were they all greedy? Or did they have other reasons for ruling against him?"

"Some larger towns have a mage there permanently," she said. "Bogatay is just big enough. The one who's there now has often petitioned me for some other duty."

Tam wished he didn't have to ask for magical help, but he knew he'd better he become used to it. "My lady, is there some way to find out if the woman and her family are still alive?"

"Yes, but it'll take time unless we can get something that belongs to her. Otherwise, I'll have to trace the emotional connection between either man and her. I expect that will be quite difficult." Jarrett had the grace to blush, though Honnold clenched his fists once more.

Tameron was afraid of acting too soon, but this had gone on for long enough. "I will now make a temporary judgment till all the facts are known," he said.

"You have that right," the Guardian added.

He couldn't tell if she approved or not, but he had to do something! Lord Honnold might be profiting by the wickedness of those around him, even though his own hands appeared to be clean.

Tam cleared his throat and stood. "We have a disputed woman, a disputed child, and disputed land," he said, glad he'd remembered some of the rules of rhetoric Scholar Tayn had taught him. "Marysalian must be found, alive or dead, as well as her son and the rest of her family. She belongs to herself. She will decide where she will live and with whom. The same goes for the land that went with her at her marriage. It is hers. The land her parents own must go back to them if they live, or to their heirs if they are dead. Until we know, all that land must be separated from Lord Honnold's own holdings. Someone must find out how much of his wealth came from that land, because it might have to be returned. Since he's paid his Tenth on all his produce, no matter where it came from, there shouldn't be any further taxes. This also holds true for Marysalian and her kin, for they should not have to pay for what they didn't receive. My lady, I would appreciate your assistance in making these determinations."

She dipped her head in agreement.

"What if they're never found?" Honnold asked. His face was deathly pale.

"You may never control that land again," Tameron said. "You may lose even more if evil has been done in your name or to gain your goodwill."

"If Marysalian is well, will she go back to her husband?" Jarrett asked.

"Only if she wants to," Tam said. "Responsibility for the child is divided evenly between you both, unless one of you wishes to give up his claim. Jarrett, can you provide this without depending on your cousin's wealth?"

The younger man lifted his chin. "Yes. I traded for myself when I was Outside, and when I returned, I was wounded subduing a thief. After I recovered, I was allowed to keep his goods for my own, at least the ones nobody recognized. I don't care what you do with the land, if only she's all right!" The water darkened a little, but not much.

Tameron hoped the two were someday reunited, though he felt a little sorry for Honnold. Some mages complained about their Duty for the same reason the older man had ruined his marriage.

Both men dried their hands and left when the Guardian dismissed them. Tam sat down. "My lady," he asked, "was Lord Honnold right--I mean, is it true about my father and Coris Mimn being like he said they were?"

"Yes. He wanted to keep it from you till you were older. My brother cared as deeply for your mother as he could for any woman, but never as much as he does for Mimn. He didn't want to influence you one way or another until you became certain what you wanted for yourself." She sniffed. "Not that I've ever seen it make much difference!"

"I'm sure Father has planned out my life already." It'd be a little easier for him, he supposed. He already knew he was no lover of men. He'd already had dreams about Jalis, one of the novice guards--especially the day she'd worn her leather armor laced much too tightly. Stine had laughed herself sick when the girl had made mincemeat of most of the boys, though the commander had the girl wear a chainmail shirt over her leather afterwards. He still found Lady Kiliane attractive. "Who will the College of Wizards choose for me? Or will they bother, since I don't have any magical powers?"

"There is more to life than duty, Tameron," the Guardian said gently. She rose from her chair and walked down the steps of the dais. "You're better off with a heart, even when it's broken."

"Is that why you became a Guardian?" He knew the question was horribly personal. He had no right to ask it.

She turned to face him, the hood drooping between them like a wall. "In a way. I've had only one child, but wasn't allowed to keep the infant. My other duty was lost on the way to this one. I couldn't do both." It almost sounded as if she were crying.

He wanted to comfort her, but didn't know how. It must be terrible to lose so much. He hoped she felt it was worth it.

"I promise you one thing, Tam," she said sharply. "If you find someone to love, I have enough influence so you may keep her by your side as long as you both wish. Don't forget to be human!"

"It's all I have!" he shouted, suddenly angry.

"Yes. You must not give it up. Some mages have, and we are the poorer for it."

Tameron was weary and thirsty. He bowed politely, and then left. The Guardian meant to be kind, but his father's will was more important. Caught as he was between the life of an ordinary man and the Duty of a mage, it hurt too much to hope for real love.

I'd better learn how to make do without it, he thought. After all, the Guardian has.

 

Chapter 4

 

During the next few weeks Tameron judged other cases, but none of them affected him like the first one. He felt much better physically, and began sword and armor practice with the other guards. One thing was different. He wore wrist-braces now, and became good at slipping them off and on when nobody else was watching. The scars faded, but they burned like brands of dishonor in his mind. At least this way his shame could remain private.

Snow fell nearly every day in the mountains near Lochil, though it was more than a month till Midwinter. Some fell in the town at night, but melted during the day. He rode outside whenever he could despite the weather, and twice a week he was allowed to go out of the Guardian's stronghold with other soldiers his own age. He dressed like they did and carried only a little money. Stine wasn't happy, but admitted that he was safer from assassins when he blended in with the others. "I still don't like it, though," she said for the dozenth time one afternoon as Tameron prepared to leave.

"Being locked up didn't protect me in Kelemath," Tam said. "What good am I to anyone if I never leave my room?" In the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but see Dever Tower.

The commander had no answer to that one, and grudgingly gave her permission for him to go again.

He enjoyed pretending he was just another trainee guard. He was less than a year younger than a couple of them, so he fit in well enough, and relished riding through the streets without being on display. Lochil was a pretty town, with narrow streets nearly covered by the built-out windows of the tall, sharp-roofed houses.

What would it be like to live here as an ordinary person? he wondered wistfully. Surely his life would be much simpler that way!

He and the others stopped to watch a puppet play in the market square that afternoon. Tam was surprised that it showed a version of his fall in the Council Chamber. Entertainment booths always commented on political affairs, but he didn't realize his own problems had flown down the road so quickly. He wished he'd thought of half the stuff they'd had his manikin say!

"Lorin," he asked afterwards. His friend had accompanied Stine and the other guards when they fled Kelemath. "Why are they calling me the Silver Dragon who will bring the other dragons back to life? I mean, they're just statues."

"Some people think that earthquakes are caused when the dragons move around," Lorin said. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Some people worship the beasts, and believe that someday the commoners will have vengeance on the mages who rule over them. That's why you see candle-stubs below the statues, just like that one over there. Especially by the houses of mages who are known to misuse their powers. Everyone loves the Guardian, so no one leaves them near her palace even though she has more dragons than anybody else in this town. But if you look, you can see the offerings all over Kelemath."

Tam had, but his father had said they represented gifts of fire, without mentioning that they could be warnings. He remembered Stine telling them all last spring how some bandits in the hills wore dragon tattoos, while the leader of the raiders in Tameron's first real battle had worn a leather patch on his cloak in the shape of a dragon. He'd wondered why the symbol of a mage's power was so misused by some. Now it all made sense.

He glanced up at the stone dragon Lorin had pointed out. I'm bound to this land just like you are to that wall, he thought. If you were real and I had the power to free you, I would.

As he and the other guards rode back, they took a detour through a cramped alleyway Tam didn't recognize. One of the guards swore it'd cut several blocks off their way. A girl with blazing red hair leaned out of an upper window and waved at them. "I always like seeing brave soldiers," she said.

Tameron enjoyed looking at what her low neckline showed. He knew from guards' gossip that not everyone waited as long as custom prescribed for their first blessing from the Lord and Lady. Why should he?

The girl smiled at him. "I promise an early Festival for the youngest one in your group, too. No one should be denied those gifts just because it's the wrong time of year."

He began to dismount, as Lorin laughed.

"It's a trap!" shouted the guard who'd led them here.

Both ends of the alleyway were blocked by horsemen. Tameron flung himself back into the saddle and spurred his way towards the side closest to safety. As the other guards followed, Lorin gave out an unearthly cry. Tam unsheathed his sword and charged at the man in front. His enemy suddenly fell, though his own first thrust had missed. The girl screamed. The other attackers facing them scattered, while the ones behind continued their pursuit. Tam urged his mount to a gallop, but noticed the arrow in the back of the fallen bandit. It had white fletching...he'd seen it before, somewhere! He'd best not waste this gift by stopping to stare, and made a mental note for later. If there was a later.

They rode back to the castle as fast as they could. Their enemies disappeared after the first corner. Or were they only taking a different route to the main gate? Tam allowed Lorin and the others to ride at each side, though he didn't want his friends to take arrows or blows meant for him. He remembered the poison in the Council Chamber. His stomach twisted. Why did the other families hate him so?

He relaxed once they were behind the castle's high walls. Stine was angry when she knew, but more at the situation than at him. "More good men have died chasing their tails than anything else," she said with a grim laugh. "And a few women, too. Let this be a lesson to you, lad. She cut you out of the herd like a trained dog. I don't know why you were so lucky, but I'll find out. You're confined to the castle till further notice." Then she went off with the guard who'd decided on the short-cut in tow. Tameron was definitely glad not to be him!

He wondered if the puppet play about him being the Silver Dragon had anything to do with this intrigue. Where did he remember that white fletching from? If he asked Stine about it, how could he keep Lorin out of it? He didn't want to get his friend into trouble, especially since it hadn't been Lorin's idea to go into the alley, but Gerad's.

Perhaps he could ask the Guardian. In the next few days, he tried to find an opportunity to speak with her, but she was nearly as busy as his father. He continued to help her judge cases, but was glad when they were done for the afternoon and he could spend some time in the outer courtyards. Enough snow had fallen so that he and some of the other trainees had snowball fights, though his side also built a short wall to hide behind.

Even when confined inside, some of the cases the Guardian taught him how to judge were interesting. Perhaps if he did well with the problems of ordinary people, he could spare his father that task in Kelemath. Many mages grew impatient with apparently minor difficulties, but a dozen eggs gone missing mattered as much to a poor family as a whole warehouse lost in a fire did to a merchant in Kelemath. The Guardian also kept him busy looking through old books of law, which had stories about unusual problems and how they were resolved. It helped keep his mind off of being confined to the castle and its grounds, at least most of the time.

Tameron often stared at the high stone walls of the stronghold. Did they offer protection or were they just another prison? Sometimes he remembered the girl who tried to lure him to his death. What if she'd meant what she'd said? Lord and Lady, friends like Lorin were good to have, but part of him pined for someone like that girl. She’d had such pretty red hair…

As he wandered restlessly through the castle one afternoon when a new storm kept everyone inside, he stumbled onto another mystery. He was hungry, though the mid-day meal had been just a couple of hours ago, so he went into the kitchen hoping to talk the cook into a treat. The old, fat woman was gossiping with a dark-haired younger maid, and didn't hear him walk in. "I still wonder if the accident that killed the Protector's wife and children was really an accident," the cook said. "After what happened to the boy in that evil city, who knows?"

That wasn't right, Tam thought. My mother lived long enough to have me. He left the room and sought out Randor, who was in his own room just one floor above the kitchen.

His servant didn't know much. The older man and his wife Esa had made pilgrimage to Lochil in thanksgiving for a good harvest, when the weather turned bad and Esa was too pregnant to make the return journey in such conditions. Then she'd lost the baby, which made her a perfect wet-nurse for Lord Sidian's newest child.

"I heard some strange gossip, but I don't know if any of it was true," Randor said. "Esa didn't care once she had you in her arms. I was sad my own son was gone, but as long as Esa was happy and my other boys were healthy it didn't matter so much. I was more worried about sending money to my brother so he could take over the farm and care for the rest of the family. The Protector had us follow him to Kelemath, just as the old Guardian here was said to be dying."

"Was my father here?"

"Of course he was, though he stayed in the castle, instead of being on the island with his wife." Randor frowned. "Lady Sigaldo, his sister, took over that duty, along with a couple of her own maidservants. She was already famous for her healing skills, especially with the problems of women. To be honest, I wish she'd been able to come down and help Esa. She might have been able to save my wife when Coris Mimn couldn't."

"I wish she could have, too," Tameron said.

"I know, lad. The old cook just heard the story wrong."

Randor was probably right. Tam learned in the next few days that most of the servants here had died or moved off since his birth. He was also a little disappointed to hear that the girl he'd seen gossiping with the cook was said to be involved with the night-groom.

When Tameron asked Stine about the apparent mystery about his mother. the commander didn't know anything, or at least claimed she didn't. He finally requested a private audience with the Guardian. After all, she'd been there.

At first his aunt sounded hesitant to answer any questions, till he blurted out what he wanted to know. Then her voice gained confidence. "I was there when it happened. Your brothers and sisters were breaking the magical barrier around the Empty Throne when Wendar, the youngest boy, weakened. Lady Aliana tried to help him, and that wrecked the Balance. The explosion killed them all--all but your mother, of course. She was horribly disfigured.

"She didn't allow anyone but your father and I to see her afterwards. My brother was terrified for her safety, especially after she knew she was pregnant. He made her a haven on Neyarmie Isle. No evil magic would dare come that close to the Earth Giant. Once she knew you were all right, she just--just gave up," the Guardian said softly. "Your father has done the best he could in her memory."

"He disliked me even before I found out I wouldn't have any magic," Tam said. "I've always thought it was because he blamed me for her death."

"Oh, no. At most he's tried to seem indifferent so his enemies would not threaten you to get at him. In a way the rumors are right. Most of her died when the others did, and the rest at your birth. Your father found great joy with Coris Mimn, though, and his heart didn't take long to heal." She sounded sad.

Had his father loved his mother at all? Or did they have only their Duty to bind them? If only the Guardian were right about his father just pretending to neglect him! Tameron remembered their last meeting when nobody else had been around, though. The Protector had been more than kind to him then. He bowed his head. "I hope it doesn't take as long for me to find someone I care for as it did him," he said.

"A handsome young man like you? The girls will be lining up at Festival, even the ones who don't know who you are," The Guardian said, forced gaiety in her voice.

"Like that girl in Lochil?" he said bitterly. He was certain his father would choose his partners, at least for now. Most likely they would be mage-gifted and told to lie with him by the College. He couldn't really expect them to like him the way he wanted them to.

The Guardian sighed. "Don't give up so easily," she said.

Tam bowed his head, going over the scene in his mind. He'd been so eager to take what the girl had pretended to offer, he'd never thought what might hide behind it. "Wait," he said. "I remember where I saw that white fletching on the arrows before. Did Stine tell you about it? Some of the soldiers attacking us fell after, after we started to ride away." He wanted to keep Lorin's name out of it, now that he saw a connection between his friend's shrill cry during the struggle and the arrows. "The bandits that I saw last spring used the same kind, and their leader wore a dragon patch on his cloak. I saw a puppet show earlier that day where they talked about bringing the dragons back to life. Is there a connection?" Perhaps this way he could find out if Lorin was right or not. The dragon-worshippers and the rebels in the hills might be the same, though his friend was so loyal that he doubted it.

Lady Sigaldo sat up straight. "Your father should have told you already. It's said that Wizardwall will hold until the dragons fly again. You know how likely that is! However, many commoners believe that a child born on Neyarmie Isle at Midwinter will give life to the statues and set them free. That may be one reason why my brother's enemies are trying to destroy you, using your lack of magic as an excuse."

"Why do they feel threatened? I don’t have any powers like that!"

The Guardian was silent for a moment. Tam knew she wasn't telling him everything.

She finally spoke. "Once an ordinary person is on the Council and shows himself worthy, they'll have little excuse to keep others like you from taking a place there, too. If you were a fool, or weak, I doubt they'd object. They could use your example to discourage any others. Since you won’t be a bad example, you will create a disturbing precedent." Her voice shook.

"Are...are you angry about it too?"

"No. If mages went through the Ordeal as they did in times past, I would tell your father to adopt Lady Kiliane. As it is, commoners have much to fear these days. Many like Stine are still true to their oaths, but how long will that last? I wouldn't be surprised to see candles under my own dragon-statues someday." She shook her head. "Your presence will frighten the wizards who abuse their position, and that's good enough for me."

Tameron bowed in courtesy and left. This legend easily explained why he had unexpected enemies--and friends. Even as he walked away, he knew there was a lot his aunt wasn't saying. Was he ever going to know the whole story?

Perhaps he ought to visit Neyarmie Isle and pay his respects to his mother's grave. The Guardian had given him permission to go there whenever he wished, but he never had. Maybe he'd find more answers there.

One night soon after, the clouds finally opened and showed the sky beyond. Tameron gazed out at the pole star, which blazed in solitary splendor at the center of the sky. Everyone was a child of the Lord and Lady, and thus had a star that belonged to them at birth. Since his had been at Midwinter under the light of the full moon, the gem of the north was his. That told him his fate already. Supposedly the star was compatible with all the constellations, but in the stories he knew it always stood for solitude, and for strength. Was that really so bad? If he expected nothing from anyone to begin with, then he wouldn't be disappointed.

A few days later, Stine summoned him after drill. "We finally found the girl," she said. Tam followed her to the small audience chamber. The Guardian sat, while the girl stood with her hand in a bowl of water.

Tameron recognized the truthspell, and the girl. He'd certainly dreamed of her often enough since the fight.

"Who are you?" he blurted out.
She smiled at him, and said, "My name is Liselda. I'm glad you weren't hurt."

The water stayed clear! He stepped forward.

"Tell him the rest," the Guardian said dryly. Tameron halted, and bowed to his aunt.

Liselda blushed and ducked her head. "Some man paid me to lean my head out and ask for the youngest when the castle guards came by. He didn't know when it would be, but paid me enough to be ready all month."

"All month?" Stine asked.

"Well, I can't work at my usual trade if I don't take childbane. The man said I'd get extra if I got pregnant, but only by the right one. I don't know where the other soldiers came from, or the ones who shot arrows from behind the wall. I didn't know anybody was going to get hurt!"

Again the water stayed clear. "What were your instructions, then?" the Guardian asked.

"I've already told you! The young gentleman was to stay with me, and I was to ask him to come back as often as he liked. I think I would have enjoyed that." The girl gazed steadily into Tameron's eyes.

He felt his face going hot, even though the water turned pale gray at her words.

"Did you recognize any of the castle guards?" Stine asked.

"No, sir. I've never seen them with their uniforms on, anyway. I might be able to pick a few out if I saw them a bit closer, mind you."

Stine laughed. "Which parts?" Then her face turned grim as she spoke to the Guardian. "My lady, have you been able to see the face of the man who paid her?"

Lady Sigaldo shook her head. "No. My brother is better at that sort of thing than I am."

"He was a heavy man, with a black beard and a face the color of the wood in that chair--the lighter wood, not the dark," Liselda interrupted, clearly trying to be helpful. "I still have one of the coins in my purse that he gave me. Would that help?"

"Yes, it would," the Guardian said.

Stine brought out a shabby-looking purse and dumped its contents into the Guardian's hand.

Tameron felt left out as his aunt spread the coins out in her palm, then let her fingertips brush against them. "Ah, this one!" she said, as she held up a small golden circle. "Stine, bring me the soldiers who were with the Protector's son that day. If any of them still have coins that resonate to this one, we'll question them first. This young lady will have to stay here till we find out just how many were involved. Gerad may not be the only one."

"I haven't done anything wrong!" Liselda protested.

"Not knowingly. I admit, it's a temptation to let you go, but if the man who paid you discovers that you've failed, you may not be particularly safe," the Guardian said. "Stine, see that's she's comfortable, but make sure her guards are other women. And she ought to start on childbane again."

The commander summoned one of the older women and had her take the girl away. As Stine personally escorted Tameron back to his quarters, she spoke quietly but bluntly. "You've got to stay inside now. Not even the courtyards are safe till I find out which guards besides Gerad might have sold you out. Lad, you don't know how lucky you were. A child from you will give the mother's family power over the Protector, at least till you're married or whatever else they plan for you. You're just the age to do something stupid whether you're old enough for Festival or not. I wish I could find you some childbane, but your father'd hang me from my heels if I did. And don't even ask where that little dumpling is going to be, because no one's going to tell you. I know every little trick the novice guards play at your age, boy or girl, so don't even think about trying them. I've looked the other way sometimes, but I can't do that with you. So keep polishing your armor, or whatever they're calling it these days, and stay out of trouble."

Tam nearly died of embarrassment right then. 'Fishing with an empty hook' was what he'd heard the older boys say, though he wasn't about to ask Stine if that was what she meant.

For the first few days, he was confined to his rooms while Stine investigated. Randor told him when Gerad confessed and all the other guards had been cleared. The old man shared his delight as Tameron was allowed to go out into the hallways again.

After a week or so, he felt the walls closing in the way they had before. Tam spent a lot of time gazing out the windows. Soon even they were curtained by falling snow as winter storms began. Worse was yet to come. In Lochil, this kind of weather lasted for weeks in this season with only a few days of clearing at a time. The only good part was that Lorin had obviously passed Stine's interrogation. Tam was glad of that. He'd hate to have his friend get into trouble for saving his life.

As time went by, Tam felt himself grow numb. Lorin tried to cheer him up, but it did no good. The only part of him that still felt alive rose every few nights in his dreams.

It was always the same scene. He was in Council again, with the bandages still around his wrists. He drank that cup the Coris Mimn left him. But even when his father's enemies insulted him, Tameron didn't dare stand up. For instead of making him ill, the potion in the cup made him so hard he was afraid his tunic wouldn't cover it.

Then in the dream, his father came to his side and pulled him to his feet. Tam's tunic was gone, and he had only his shirt and breeches, breeches that were swollen so tight that the buttons nearly pulled away. The Council always shouted their approval, except for a few.

Without knowing how he got there, in the way of dreams, Tameron found himself in bed, the bed here in Lochil. Liselda's warm body was wrapped around him, as she eagerly spread her legs for his pleasure...but just at the moment of completion, she pulled a knife and stabbed him. He always woke then, his body confused between pain and pleasure. He rarely got back to sleep, and usually stayed up for the rest of the night after that one.

He began to keep up as late as he could to try to avoid the nightmare. This turned his days into hours of gray endurance. It didn't matter. As long as he did what he was told, what more could anybody want? If the Guardian noticed how he sometimes allowed his eyelids to droop in the afternoons, she said nothing.

One day he went to morning drill, and noticed Stine was busy. He ran in place with full armor and shield while the commander tormented another swordsman. He had to become accustomed to the weight if he wanted to be more than a shiny ornament; though he had a sinking feeling that he'd always be a target.

Tameron fell to the floor when someone attacked him from the rear. He scrambled to his feet, drew his sword, and faced Stine. She leaped at him as if she meant to kill him. He feinted left, and then turned to keep the wall at his back. Stine thrust directly at his throat and he barely ducked in time.

She's never been like this before! Tam beat at her sword with his shield to knock it away, then swung back. Stine dodged to the right and came at him again. Why isn't anybody helping me? Of course, they think it's just another drill!

Rage blazed through him. Damn them all, he'd protect himself! He fought to stay alive as she nearly nailed him on the right shoulder. He almost got her back on the riposte, but tripped as she sliced at his knees. Stine kicked the sword out of his hand, and booted him in the ribs when he tried to roll away. The point of her sword pressed into his neck. A small trickle of blood ran down his skin.

"Your enemies won't stop," Stine growled softly, then backed off. Tameron got to his feet. He was surprised to be alive, and ashamed he'd been so easy to beat. He should be angry at her for humiliating him like this. Instead, he was only weary.

She faced the rest of the class. "This is what happens when you don't pay attention," she said. Tam shifted his position, wondering how well she was watching him now. Stine suddenly glanced at him and turned so he was in her field of vision. "Don't laugh at Lord Tameron. He did better than I think some of you will. If you want to stay alive, you have to be ready for anything, at any time. Now wash up. All of you stink of fear."

Tam obeyed. He took off everything but the wrist braces and soaked in the bathing room. The others finished faster than usual, probably hoping to avoid Stine's wrath. Lorin shot him a sympathetic glance as he left, but said nothing.

He heard a footstep. Tameron jumped out and grabbed his sword, which he'd left in reach. Stine didn't have any witnesses now and knew he liked to linger in the bath.

She laughed, and held up both hands. "You're off the hook this time, lad. A good thing you listened and didn't assume I'd forget you. Now let me see those wrists of yours."

Tameron nearly dropped his sword in shock. Stine walked over and picked up his free hand. "You've never worn braces for such a long time before," she said, removed the wrist guard, and examined the thin scars on his left wrist. "You're lucky you didn't slice a tendon. No wonder the poison hit you so hard. What in the name of Fire were you doing?"

How much of the truth to tell? "I was trying some blood magic. Nothing else worked and I was desperate." Tam bowed his head.

Stine nodded. "You can't take risks like others can. I've seen the Guardian heal a death-wound in less than an hour, and it took you days to get better. Fortunately she knows her potions as well as she does her spells, and doesn't mind taking advice. The liver soup was my idea. Everyone knows it's good for blood loss."

Tam remembered what she'd said at the posting-house on the way here about him not being affected by magic, especially healing-spells. "I'd better be careful then," he said.

Stine looked uneasy. "The guard who took you through the short-cut that nearly got you killed is in custody for the Protector to deal with. None of the people in the city had arrows with white fletching, though. In fact, by the time we got to the alleyway, all of those arrows had been removed, so the Guardian had nothing to trace. And we still don't know who the other group was. The girl keeps insisting she was to let you go once you'd had your fun."

Tameron put his sword back in its sheath on his belt, and began to dress. "No place is safe, is it?"

"Well, your father and Lady Kiliane are on their way here, and will arrive with their escort in a few days. We'll probably return to Kelemath with them before the weather gets too bad to travel. I don't have to tell you to watch your back there. You can't trust anyone."

"For a moment I didn't trust you."

"Good. You'll stay alive longer that way," the Commander said calmly, and handed him his shirt. "You've been walking around half-asleep for over a week. I hope this wakes you up."

It did. For the rest of the day he started at every sudden noise. Was the servant who laid the table putting something in his food? Who came into his room to clean when he wasn't there? The worst thing of all was that he began to wonder if Randor himself would stay loyal forever.

By evening, he was sick of the creeping suspicion that filled his heart. Was it worth living like this, if every breath was bought with fear? He wanted to ask the Guardian if Stine was right, but was afraid she'd tell the truth this time.

Soon his father would be here. Why was Lord Sidian bringing Lady Kiliane with him? Tameron remembered the beautiful, dark-haired girl. What bargain had the Protector made with the Sandega clan? For a moment hope flared in his heart. Perhaps he was to be set free, as the Council wished. No one ever need know his secret vulnerability if he were to be adopted by some ordinary family. Randor, for one, would never tell.

But why bring Kiliane here? he wondered. Why didn't Father summon me home to appear before the Council if I'm going to be let go? Then he remembered what the Guardian had said about the Anchor points. His aunt's castle was one of the four places in Fiallyn Mor where his father could rest without fear. What if he was in trouble, too?

Tameron ate little of his dinner as he thought about it. It's my fault. If only I had magic. But I don't. Stine should be protecting my father, not me, but she isn't because I can't even defend myself properly. And if my children are so important that they can be used against my father, who paid the girl to wait for me?

That night he dreamed again of being in the Council Chamber. Once more he was forced to stand after drinking Mimn's potion, and he soon found himself in bed, his body thrilling to the touch of the girl next to him.

Only, this time she wasn't Liselda. Dark hair and red lips replaced the other girl's charms. Kiliane. But you don't even like me, he thought in this dream.

Her mocking laughter did nothing to diminish how much he wanted her, but for some reason he was able to resist it this time. He tried to move away from the bed, only to find he was tied to it by one hand.

"See? You have no choice," she said bitterly. "Neither do I. Shall we make the best of it?"

Part of him eagerly complied. Another part watched and waited. He began to breathe heavily and thrust faster, but Kiliane drew a knife, as he'd come to expect. This time he was still thinking clearly enough to wrestle it away from her hand into his, and used it to cut the strip of cloth that bound him to the bed.

While she gaped open-mouthed at his actions, he rushed toward the door, seized the handle, and left the room. Stine stood in the hallway, a naked sword leveled at his belly. "I told you not to trust anyone," she said.

Then she killed him.

Tameron woke screaming.

Randor rushed into the room, only his night-clothes on. "Are you all right, lad?" he said.

"A bad dream..." All Tam wanted to do was to weep into his pillow, but he was too old for that. He sat up on the edge of the bed. "I'll go back to sleep soon," he lied. He knew better.

"You should tell the Guardian about it," the older man said. "This isn't the first time.”

Tell my aunt about this? Not likely! "I'll be all right," he said.

Randor looked worried and shook his head. "I don't want you to say that if it's not true. I knew something was wrong the night you…you were hurt, and I didn't do anything until it was almost too late. There's nothing so bad you can't tell me about it, lad. I was once a boy like you. We all have times when we think life is cruel to us, though I must admit you have more reason than most. I can't believe what I heard Stine did to you in drill."

Tam hesitated. "I--I've been dreaming about the red-haired girl, the one from Lochil."

"Every man has that kind of dream! What's in it to make you wake up this way?"

"Stine was there, too. With a sword."

"Well, after the beating you took yesterday, no wonder! You need a holiday, lad."

"Father will be here soon."

"Is that's what winding you up? I can't say I blame you. For all his kindness, it's been too long since he was young. It may take a couple of days, but I can arrange to have some amusement brought your way, since you can't go into town. We'll call it an early birthday celebration."

Tam swallowed back tears. His birthday was on Midwinter, and the Feast of Mourning was a holiday for elders only. Oh, he never went short on gifts. Last year he'd received his sword from Stine, an order for a suit of armor made to his measure from his father, a set of books from Tayn, and a basket of cakes from Randor. But the day was never his the way other people's birthdays were. His father always promised to make it up to him, but somehow he never did.

"Thank you," he whispered, once he got his voice back under his control. Randor fetched him something hot and sweet to drink, tucked him back into bed as if he were still a child, and bade him good-night.

After his servant left, Tam wasn't afraid any more, but he couldn't go back to sleep. A holiday! He liked that idea. Each day here was much like the rest now that he was confined to the castle, except for the ceremonies that marked the end of each week for which his attendance was required. They were his only glimpse of open sky each cycle, though the ritual itself was deadly boring by now. The Guardian had her times of solitary amusement, but those were in the mornings when he had drill. His own schedule was just like it'd been in Kelemath, only more so with him being confined inside so much.

He sat up again as he thought of something. By the time Randor arranged anything, his father would likely be here. The Protector and Lady Kiliane would undoubtedly join him in whatever show his servant might arrange. Of course the performers would naturally give all their attention to his father. It wouldn't be the first time.

No. It was time he took a day. Just one day. Then he'd play the role assigned to him. Lady Kiliane couldn't be like the girl he'd dreamed about. She might even be as friendly as Liselda appeared to be. He quietly slid out of bed and dressed. Any sound he made might well be heard by a night-guard below in the audience chamber. Riding out should be safe as long as he stayed away from town, though he took a few coins with him in a pouch just in case. He was so tired of being a prisoner here!

Tam put on his plainest cloak and took his sword. If he was caught, he'd be in more trouble for being unarmed than for leaving. He scribbled a quick note to reassure them he was all right, and then opened his door by a hair and peered out of his room. The guard usually assigned to this hallway paced up and down in the faint light. He watched and waited as the fellow took a long swallow from a flask. It was only a matter of time now till the drink sank to the other end.

At last the guard went to the other end of the hall to the privy. Tameron left his chambers, gently closed the door, and quietly sped down to the opposite end. He was tempted to slide down the staircase rail to go even faster, but knew he'd make too much noise at the bottom.

He headed towards the stables, the hood of his cloak up, and tried to walk like a weary guard sick of his duties. Fortunately the night-groom was gone, or at least wasn't up. Probably with that pretty maidservant I saw with the cook a while ago, Tam thought. Once there, he chose a sweet-tempered chestnut mare. He knew some of the beasts by now, including a gentle little pack-pony that liked him for some reason.

He looked around to make sure they were being taken care of. They had no voices to plead with if they were neglected or ill-treated. The stable hands were usually kind to the horses around him, but it didn't hurt to check.

Tameron gave the mare some extra grain, and then saddled her. He walked the horse quietly through the dark, deserted yard past a couple of drowsy servants and let himself out a rarely-used side gate. It wasn't even sunrise yet, but he saw puffs of smoke in a few chimneys in the predawn light.

He cantered to the edge of town. No point exposing himself too much when he only wanted a day away from his guards and his duties...and from fear. Already he felt better with fresh air in his lungs. He laughed to see how his breath made its own white smoke in the cold morning breeze.

Tam followed a couple of wagons out through the eastern gate. The sky and the ground were nearly the same color now. Pale gray clouds cast dim shadows on the fresh snow. Occasional flakes lazily sailed down on him and the horse. To his left, the dark waters of Kadramas Lake surrounded the mist-covered island near the shore. On his right, high stone ramparts protected Lochil and the lake, forming a wall pierced only by the road from Kelemath. He enjoyed riding into the slowly-rising sun, even though the sky was overcast.

Today might be a good time to explore along the shore and see how deep the water was between the land and Neyarmie Isle. It was closer to shore than he’d thought. The Guardian always took a boat from the northern exit of the castle, but it was supposed to be possible to walk along a spit of land that went out nearly to the edge of the sacred isle. A good horse ought to be able to swim the gap, if there was one, between the gravelly bar and the island itself.

Maybe when he rode back into Lochil this afternoon he might find a girl who'd never heard of him. Perhaps a real girl in his arms while he was awake would drive away the nightmares. He'd be sure to ask for one who took childbane, in case Stine was right.

Once he was a few hours away from town, he stopped and ate a little from the pouch he'd brought. The flakes of snow became thicker, and began to fall more heavily from the cloudy sky. Once he got his bearings, he turned back, though it wasn't even noon yet.

Then he lost sight of the walls in the freezing white wind that suddenly blew. Tam kept going, knowing it had to be the right direction. But then he thought he saw the outline of a gate to the left and turned towards it, only to discover it was an illusion. Soon he wasn't sure what direction he was going.

Tam urged his horse forward anyway. No matter what direction he went, as long as he kept on the same course he'd find either the lake, the stone walls, or the forest. The land around the small city was bare from tree-cutting, but not for any great distance. If he reached the shore of Kadramas Lake, he'd backtrack till he found the gate again. If he rode far enough south to strike the stone ramparts, at least he'd be able to find the road.

Ice cracked as his horse stumbled into a stream. He must be on the edge of the narrow river east of Lochil. There were trees on the other side, so he crossed it anyway. He tried to get a little more speed from the mare. Once he reached the forest, he could find shelter there till the storm slowed down. Stine had showed him how to dig down to find dry wood to start a fire.

He must find cover first, and then stay warm. Tam would rather find fresh water, if only for the horse, but he knew he could melt snow in a bottle under his arm if he had to.

At last he reached the edge of the trees. Once out of the wind, he stopped and wiped down the mare's legs with a rag from his saddlebag. She'd catch a chill if he didn't. He remounted and rode on. As soon as he found a protected clearing, he'd build a fire there. He almost stopped in one place, but moved on when he heard the soft trickle of water ahead of him. That was better than melting snow any day.

He made camp when he found an open area under a huge fir near a second, smaller creek. Someone had trimmed the bottom branches off, so people had been here. This wasn't quite the way he'd planned on spending the day, but it was still better than sleepwalking through his usual routine, or being suspicious of everyone the way he'd been yesterday. Besides, he ought to rest the mare. She enjoyed the small fire as much as he did.

After a few hours he doused his campfire and began to head back. Snow sifted through the trees and covered his tracks. Tameron thought he knew the way, but worried when he didn't find any droppings from his mare. He was disgusted when he ran across the brook again, and then became frightened when he couldn't find the hearth he'd left behind. The current was running the other way from what he remembered, so it must be a different one. The light was so gray there were no shadows. Nobody knew where he was, and they might not guess which horse he’d taken. Tam wished he hadn't eaten so much of his food already.

Once he knew he was lost, he started looking for a place to spend the night. At least he hadn't traveled in a circle, but that wasn't much help. Now it was getting dark.

Wait, there was a clearing up ahead! He should set up camp near the open if he had a choice, so he could figure out which way was east when morning finally came.

He urged the horse on a bit faster when he found a path nearly hidden by snow. Maybe there's shelter at the end of it. He smelled smoke and spurred the mare into a canter, not noticing the tangled branches that reached into his way.

Then his mount stumbled and sent him flying through the air. He moved slowly, as if he were floating...then he rushed up against a knobby tree trunk and all went dark, as dark as in his quiet, empty room in Kelemath just a month or so ago.

 

Chapter 5

 

For a long time he felt terror and pain, occasionally soothed by gentle hands and a voice like Esa's. Was he dead? He ought to be able to see her if he was. Odd lights and shadows replaced the welcoming warmth Tam recalled from his last brush with death.

As if in a dream, he stood at the heavy double doors inside his father's palace in Kelemath, doors that had been locked and barred the day after the death of his brothers and sisters. Beyond them lay the vaulted hall that held the Empty Throne and the Dragon Crown, a place he'd never seen.

He touched the iron bar. It dissolved into mist and faded away. The doors swung open. Tameron forced himself to walk into the room.

The throne wasn't empty. A tall, lean woman sat there, wearing a jeweled crown that looked like a dragon coiled around her head. She was old and haggard, but her eyes blazed with power. Her voice echoed inside his mind. I HAVE WAITED A LONG TIME FOR YOU TO COME.  I SEE I SHALL HAVE TO WAIT EVEN LONGER. STEP FORWARD.

He obeyed, trembling from head to toe. What am I afraid of? he wondered. The barrier will stop me before I go too much further, and I'm certainly not going to try to push through it.

Layers of dust within the circle closed off by the invisible wall marked its boundaries. The rest of the room was relatively clean, despite fifteen years or so of neglect. Tam shuffled nearly to the edge of the circle, and stopped.

KEEP WALKING, said the skeletal queen. Her face changed into a skull, and her hands into bones.

"But I can't," Tam whispered. "What's the point? I can't go much farther anyway."

THAT IS WHAT THEY BELIEVE. THAT IS WHAT THEY WANT YOU TO BELIEVE.

He bit his lip and took more steps.

THAT'S RIGHT. DON'T LOOK DOWN. JUST KEEP WALKING.

Then Tameron glanced back and saw his footprints in the dust on the floor, dust that had been there for a hundred and fifty years. "Am I dead?" he asked. That might explain why he was able to cross the barrier.

NO. THOSE OF OUR BLOOD ARE BORN ONCE EVERY GENERATION, BUT THEY ARE THOUGHT TO HAVE NO POWER EXCEPT TO BREED. I HAVE TALKED TO SEVERAL LIKE YOU. MOST OF THE TIME IT'S TOO LATE, AND THEY'RE ALREADY PRISONERS OF DEVER TOWER.

"Those of our blood? I don't understand. Who are you?"

I AM THE LAST TRUE RULER OF FIALLYN MOR, BEFORE THE MAGES WHO PLEDGED THEIR LOYALTY TO THE CROWN BETRAYED US.

Tam gasped. This was the queen who he'd read about, the one the histories said even brought in foreigners to continue her own tyranny over those with magic. "But I'm from one those families myself! I'm Tameron dayn Sidian a' Piran! How could I be related to you, when your whole line perished?"

ONE SMALL GIRL LIVED. THEY THOUGHT SHE WAS A SERVANT. WHEN SHE GREW, SHE BORE CHILDREN TO HER MASTER, CHILDREN THAT WERE ALL MAGES. THIS NOBLE BUILT HER A TOWER OUT OF LOVE, OR SO HE SAID. OR PERHAPS FROM FEAR SHE WOULD BE TAKEN FROM HIM IN THE CONFLICT OVER HER THAT FOLLOWED. HE WAS FORCED TO SHARE HER, OR BE DESTROYED BY THE COUNCIL. ONE OF HER GRANDCHILDREN WAS NAMED RIALLAN.

His grandmother, and Protector of Fiallyn Mor in her own right till her death. Tam shook with horror when he thought of Dever Tower, no matter how cherished any Blessed Mother was who lived there. Was that fate going to be his? "Why couldn't any of them come to you when they attended Council? The chamber isn't that far from here."

THEY MAY NOT LEAVE THE TOWER UNLESS THEY ARE ALREADY CARRYING A CHILD. THEY CANNOT PASS THE BARRIER THEN, FOR THE INFANT WITHIN DRAINS ALL THEIR POWER. ONLY ONE OF THEM LIVED PAST THE TIME OF WOMEN, BUT FOUND SHE WAS STILL A PRISONER. SHE WAS KILLED TRYING TO ESCAPE, TRYING TO COME TO ME. A drop of water ran down the face of the skull from one of the eye holes.

"How...am I the only one who was a boy?" What good would that do? He'd never carry a child, and thus would never be allowed outside of Dever Tower.

YES. YOU WERE A DESPERATE GAMBLE. YOU'LL UNDERSTAND WHY EVENTUALLY. THE RED CUP WAS MEANT TO BRING JOY TO THESE WOMEN, BUT IT BECAME A TRAP. DON'T LET YOUR BODY LEAD YOU INTO DANGER!

Tameron had heard the rumors of the potion being given to unwilling brides, or sometimes used by weary older men. He looked down in embarrassment, knowing he'd nearly gotten himself killed by lusting after Liselda instead of thinking of his own safety. Then he noticed his feet were beginning to fade into the dusty carpet. "I'll come back someday, I swear it," he said.

IF YOU REMEMBER. RUN, BOY, RUN, OR YOU'LL BE CAUGHT, TOO. The closed eyes of the metal dragon on her head began to open.

 

 

It was dark now, dark and cold. Somebody was crying, but he didn't know who. Where was Randor? Then he realized that he was the one who was weeping like a child. They're going to be so angry with me! he thought. It's all my fault this time, too.

He knew he had to get up and go, but he couldn't. There was something he had to do back in Kelemath. Something about dragons...run, boy, run...a quiet voice echoed in his mind. Why? Why did he have to run? Most of him fled away then, retreating rapidly into a pale white mist where it was safe.

Eventually he awoke. His head hurt, and the blanket was scratchy. He opened his eyes. Everything looked blurry, but the modest cabin seemed slightly familiar, as if he'd seen it before. A woman with dark, gray-streaked hair bent over him. "There you are, lad," she said, and patted his cheek. "You've got to eat."

He had trouble finding the right words. "Where--where am I?"

"My husband found you when he was out trapping. It took him three days to bring you in after that terrible storm. We're east of Lochil and a bit north of Bogatay, and for now that's all you need to know. You're not going anywhere, and neither are we."

"Who are you?"

She smiled wearily. "I'm Dorena, my daughter is Marsya, her little son is Jorry, and my husband is Aylar the Trapper. He's back in the hills looking for fatbear. I hope you remember it this time."

He must have looked as puzzled as he felt, as she continued. "I've told you this a dozen times already. Marysa has, too, but I suppose it leaks out of your head with the knock you got." She ruffled his hair gently, but even that hurt.

"I'm sorry..." He used to have a good memory, or so...so some old man had once told him. He tried to sit up, but that was a mistake as his stomach roiled.

Dorena quickly helped him lean over a plain wooden bowl as he retched. "Now, don't take on so," she said. "You're making more sense than before, and that's a good sign. Can you tell me who you are?"

He caught his breath between sour swallows. "Tam." He knew there was more, but couldn't reach it. It'd gone into the mist, along with so much else.

"That's a nice name," she said. "Here, drink this and see if you can keep it down."

The spiced, lukewarm tea threatened to come up, and then settled down to stay. As Dorena prepared some food, Tam lifted a shaky hand and felt his chin. It had only some fuzz not worth shaving. Thin pink lines ran down inside both his wrists. He remembered something green on them. Maybe someone had used leaves to bind them when he’d been hurt?

The woman laid a roughly-hewn board on his lap and propped him with a rolled- up blanket that smelled of cattle. The room spun for a moment, but steadied as his vision cleared a little. She set a bowl of soup and a piece of bread before him. "Ready to eat?" she asked.

The tea helped. He nodded, and reached for the wooden spoon. Tam kept spilling the soup from weakness. What had happened to him? Dorena took over as if he were an infant. He thanked her between mouthfuls, and resolved to make it up to her once he was better.

Half the soup was gone when she put the bread in the bowl to soak up the rest, and he scooped that up with his fingers. Tam was glad they were working right! Then he had to ask for the pot. Dorena wanted to help him there, too, but he wouldn't let her, even when he almost fell climbing back into bed. He didn't want to know what she'd had to do when he was helpless.

He drifted back to sleep, but remembered where he was when he woke up again. Everything seemed fuzzy for a moment, but then he saw there were two more people in the cabin. Marysa was dark-haired like her mother, but had round cheeks and sparkling brown eyes. Jorry was a small lad about five years old. His hair was dark as well, but his eyes were bright blue. "I'm glad you're awake," said the boy. "I have to sleep next to you."

"Jorry! That's not nice," Marysa said. Her smile took the sting from her words.

Tam knew the boy meant no harm, and was glad to see the younger woman wasn't really angry. He had more appetite after this last nap, and enjoyed smelling more soup cooking over the hearth. It must be supper time, since the place seemed darker than before.

This time he put the bread in his soup first to soak up the broth, and spooned up mushy bread with the vegetables and tiny scraps of meat. Tam was proud that he ate over half of it by himself before Marysa had to help him finish it. Afterwards he was happy to lie back and enjoy the talk between the younger woman and her mother. Jorry quietly sat in Marysa’s lap. I wish my mother were still alive, he thought, and turned his head so the others wouldn't see his tears. Why did he have to remember that part?

He fell asleep as Marysa began getting Jorry ready for bed. Tam awoke in the night and felt the small body of the boy next to him. It'll be nice to have a brother, he thought, then drifted off again. It felt good to not be alone.

Tam regained his strength slowly in the autumn days that turned into winter weeks. He was still clumsy even when he felt better, and followed Dorena to learn chores around the cabin. Headaches and dizzy spells affected him when he tried to do too much, or remember things from before. One of his easier tasks, though, was playing with Jorry when Marysa had to go into town. She worked at a local inn to earn coins to help feed the family till Aylar gathered more furs. Dorena led a few stringy-looking cows to forage in the forest each day. Tam knew it should be his task once he was strong enough.

She usually had him watch the soup while she was gone, and keep it from either going cold or boiling over. One night Dorena taught him how to grind meal. He found it simple to take the nutmeats she'd laid out to dry on a tray near the fire, and then use her mill-bowl and roundstone to reduce them to powder. A few nights later, instead of making the bread herself, she showed him how to knead and lay the next day's loaf out to rise during the night. It took a few tries before he got it right, though they were hungry enough to eat the results anyway, but at last he produced good, wholesome bread that even Jorry didn't complain about.

Dorena was really surprised when they both found out he apparently knew how to sew already. The night that happened, she shook her head and said, "Lad, I'm glad your mother raised you right. So many men are helpless when it comes to keeping themselves out of tatters. Now, you can work on repairing these clothes tomorrow. I haven't had the heart to do it myself since my son last wore them."

Tam glanced up at the death-doll on the mantel, and then examined the shirt. It was plain, but made of strong, warm cloth. Fortunately the rips in it were along the seam. The trousers were a different story. Both knees were ragged, and needed to be patched. "Do you have any extra material?" he asked.

Dorena smiled, and brought out some scraps, a couple of which looked strong enough to hold any number of stitches, and were large enough to cover the ruined areas and still let him anchor his sewing on parts that were whole. The next day he mended the clothes, though he still had to rest at times, as well as keeping Jorry amused. Dorena approved his work that night, though she added a few stitches in places where his weren't as neat as she liked. Then she said the clothes were now his, since he'd made them fit to wear again.

Tam was so overwhelmed he couldn't speak. He knew he could never replace her son, but was glad beyond words she thought him worthy to wear his garments, and put away the too-large castoffs clearly borrowed from the missing Aylar.

Marysa frowned a little bit when came home one evening and saw him in them. Tam didn't understand. What else was he to wear?

Then he saw the way the younger woman looked at the death-doll on the mantel. He didn't know what to say, and hoped she wasn't angry with him. Dorena must have seen his distress, as she patted him on the shoulder and said, "She knows it's not your fault. You'll outgrow those clothes of Darin's soon enough, and then Jorry can wear them."

The cabin felt so warm and good to him. He wanted to be close to the people around him, though at first he held back from their embraces. Was he really part of the family? Dorena told him a few times not to be so shy, and after that he returned their warm greetings as well as he could. He'd lost track of how long he'd been here. Did it matter?

Jorry followed him outside one day when Tam was carrying in some firewood. The boy picked up a piece of kindling and pretended to be a great swordsman. Tam forgot his duties and joined in the play with a larger stick. It felt familiar, though it wasn't heavy enough. He waved the mock blade in a pattern he almost remembered. Jorry watched and tried to copy him. "Your arm needs to be straight. Your elbow is sticking out," Tam said absently.

How did he know that? A woman's face, eyes gleaming at him from under a shining helm, suddenly appeared in his mind. Then he lost it. Pain stabbed behind his left ear, and Tam gently felt the lump. It was still tender, but was dry instead of weepy.

He stopped fooling around and brought in the small logs, but left the long stick by the pile. It wouldn't fit into the fireplace anyway. Jorry pretended to guard him, so Tam could protect the fair maiden--disguised as an armload of wood-- he carried back into the house. Once he was done, he formally thanked Jorry for the boy's assistance against the enemy. Perhaps he was too old for such make-believe, but it was fun.

Marysa came home that evening, too. It always seemed like a holiday when she was there. That night she helped serve dinner, passed on town gossip, and laughed at a joke Jorry had made up, even though it was pretty bad. She brightened everything just by being there.

Tam thought he couldn't be any happier till she settled herself by the fire with her son in her lap and began telling stories. His favorite was the one about the Littlest Dragon. He felt sorry for the hero at first, a tiny dragonlet that everyone thought was too young to be any help. Then he was proud when the small beast rescued all the others when an evil sorcerer enslaved them through treachery. If only dragons were real!

He watched Marysa's face as she told another tale, drinking in her beauty as if it were wine. Oh, Blessed Lord and Lady, there was another memory he could not grasp. Water, bark tea, and sometimes a sip of home-brewed ale was his portion here. How did he know the taste of wine, whether it was dark and red, or a pale gold that caught the sun?

It didn't matter now, with Jorry's mother to look at. The firelight from the hearth made her face glow with warmth and kindness as she gazed down at the boy in her lap.

Even when she sang "The Wall", which spoke of the barrier around this land that no commoner might pass and her eyes grew sad, Marysa was well worth looking at. Did she know how beautiful she was this night?

With the last verse, the evening was over. Tam sang the chorus over to himself as he went to bed. The Wall is high...I cannot cross over...nor have I...any wings to fly...I'll build a bridge...wide enough for two...my love and I, to walk side by side. A little bit of hope was better than none.

That night he let himself imagine that this was his real family. The once-urgent desire to learn more about where he truly came from was gone. Why search for more when he already had so much?

 

Chapter 6

 

As Tam lay in bed later that night, he heard Jorry crying. The boy's small face twisted in fear, though his eyes stayed closed. "No, Da, no! Don't hit me--!"

His own dreams were bad enough. No one so young should have such nightmares. Tam held the child and spoke softly. "He's not here, Jorry, just me. It's all right. He can't hurt you. Go back to sleep." He stroked the boy's hair. Jorry soon became more peaceful in his arms.

He gazed at the dying fire, afraid to move in case he woke the boy. Perhaps this place wasn't as idyllic as he thought. It wasn't right for anybody to be this frightened. Did Jorry call Aylar, still out trapping, Da? Or was the boy's real father still alive? He had to be stronger soon. Marysa and Dorena might not be able to protect Jorry if the family's livelihood depended on the man. It might be up to him.

Tam laid the child back down when his arms grew too tired, then sat on the edge of the cot. How long had he been here? Was there anyone who missed him?  It hadn't worried him before. Maybe he'd run away for the same reason Jorry had nightmares. His head ached as he tried to remember. Run, boy, run, echoed an old woman's voice. Maybe the same old woman whose face he'd glimpsed when he was playing soldier with Jorry?

He tried to hold back tears as the pale mist swallowed up what else remained. Then he couldn't shield away his own sorrow any longer and wept into the corner of his blanket. A small hand stole up into his and squeezed. Soon they both slept.

The snow was so deep the next morning that Marysa was forced to stay home. No one was going to travel in this weather. Tam helped her bring down fodder for the cows while Dorena prepared breakfast in the house. The barn was attached, and twice the size of the cabin, but Marysa's mother didn't want them to use the inside door. "I can't keep the floor clean as it is," she grumbled as she told them to circle around outside.

Tam was aware of Marysa's gaze as he pulled down hay from the loft.

"I never thought Mama would let anyone wear those clothes till Jorry was grown," she said.

"Your mother said they were Darin's. Is that his death-doll on the mantel?"

"Yes. My little brother. He died last winter from a fever. The mage wouldn't come, since he was too busy with all the others who had it, or so he said." She sounded angry. "Jorry takes after my brother in build, though he's been healthy this winter so far. He became sick at the same time my brother got it, and was weak for a long time after it."

"Does he call Aylar 'Da'?" Tam was afraid of the answer.

"Blessed Lady, no!" she said. "Jorry calls him Papa. I don't blame you for wondering. I've had bad dreams about the man he calls 'Da' myself. I should have come last night when he called out, but I was so tired. I'm glad you were there. Only a real man could be so kind." Marysa smiled.

He felt hot and cold at the same time just looking at her. "I don't mind. I wish I could do more. Maybe my family can help yours, once I remember who they are."

"If you have the same kind of memories the boy and I have, I don't blame you for wanting to forget! Don't worry about it. Mother wants to keep you, so you're safe here no matter where you're from."

She was so beautiful that Tam wasn't upset at her implication that he was only pretending not to remember. Was it his imagination, or was her dress tighter in the bodice than usual? He mumbled something back, then turned away to take a handful of grain from the bottom of the feed bin to give to the leanest cow.

Marysa touched him on the shoulder, and he almost jumped out of his skin. "You took out enough for three days," she said, pointing at the hay. "The silly beasts will eat themselves into a colic. Put some of it back."

He obeyed her, but watching her complicated the task, and he dropped nearly as much fodder as he picked up. She said only a real man could be so kind, he thought to himself. And he wasn’t even shaving much yet!

Snow fell for days. Marysa seemed to enjoy talking to him now, though she never had before. One evening when Dorena insisted that they were all filthy, Tam was sent to the barn to wait his turn while the women and Jorry washed in front of the hearth. He couldn't help but hear Marysa laugh, or the splashing of the water that'd been heated over the fire. Then he imagined how Marysa must look without clothes, pink all over from the warmth. Oh, how could he go back in for his turn, the way he felt right now? He'd have to ask them to leave and risk the chill of the barn before he could strip and wash!

He slid his fingers alongside the single wall that separated him from the rest, and felt several flaws. Just as he was telling himself how evil it would be to bend down and try to see what was on the other side, Dorena's voice came through, a bit muffled. "You can open the inside door if you want, Tam. It's terribly cold outside. You may as well wait in here for a bit more water to get warmer."

"No!" He swallowed hard. "I'll come around." Perhaps the brisk wind and snow might make him fit to be around the others, or so he hoped. Tam wrapped himself in the cloak he'd borrowed and went out the other door. A short walk to the privy and back helped to cool his heated imagination.

Dorena had hung a couple of blankets near the hearth, so anyone bathing there could keep most of the warmth to themselves. Tam was grateful of the screen and washed as quickly as he could from the basin. He couldn't have seen anything even if he had looked. Being clean felt good, though he longed for a real bath. Part of him remembered what it was like to sit and soak all over, but that meant nothing. The inn where Marysa worked had a bathhouse for those with the coin for it. No doubt he'd grown up in a similar place.

Tam sighed with sheer satisfaction when he wrapped himself in one of the blankets, nearly hot from hanging by the fire, and went to a bed already warmed by Jorry. Tomorrow he'd wear clean clothes, while Marysa would help Dorena with the laundry. He quickly fell asleep next to the boy, feeling better than he had for a long time.

Instead of the jumbled confusion that usually ruled his dreams, he thought he was back in the barn. Only this time he bent his head to a crack and saw Marysa washing, with no blankets in the way. In this vision she was stripped to the waist, her breasts hanging free. His loins caught on fire and he couldn't tear himself away, no matter how disgraceful it was to spy on her. To top things off, right when he was ready to spend, she turned her head in his direction. Her eyes widened, apparently noticing his eye at the peephole--and then she winked at him!

He awoke, groaning with pleasure and shame at the same time. "Are you sick?" Jorry asked sleepily.

"No, no, just a nightmare," Tam said, knowing he lied. If only Marysa didn't share a bed with her mother.

Jorry fell back asleep. Tam was glad he'd wrapped himself with the extra blanket after the bath now, though he hoped Dorena wouldn't launder it tomorrow. How could he hide the mess he'd left? A fine return for all this hospitality, he thought, but couldn't stop wanting more such dreams.

The storm continued. He tried to avoid Marysa's morning and night-time embraces, and found work to do in the barn when his feelings became too strong. It didn't help. Dorena said nothing about it, but Marysa always seemed to be laughing at his shyness. As he slept each night, his body and imagination conspired to set him on fire with need for her. The only good thing about it was that her mother couldn't do the washing till it was dry enough outside to hang anything up.

During the day it was easier. He took the cows into the forest when the weather cleared, though the snow was still too deep for Marysa to return to the inn.

One morning he used his play-sword to dig out plants and leaves beneath the drifts for the cattle. It was hard work, but he was strong enough to bear it now. When he'd brushed aside enough clear space so the cows could fend for themselves, he pretended to be a soldier again. He spun the heavy wooden rod in complex patterns. It helped him to think. Was it wrong to want Marysa? He shouldn't stay if he was a fugitive. He might get his new family into trouble. But where could he go? He still had headaches when he tried to remember where he belonged.

Soft white flakes settled on his face as he looked up at the sky. The clouds were gray and threatening, and it wasn't even noon yet. Had the cows eaten enough? The pile of fodder in the barn shrank every day, but had to last till spring. He uneasily watched the weather, while absently twirling his staff.

Tam dropped it when he heard Marysa laugh. "Aren't you playing with the wrong stick?" she asked. She was muffled in a heavy cloak. "Mother sent me to help you bring the cows home. She's worried about another storm."

The wind blew ice into his face. "We'd better go," Tam said. He gathered the cattle together with Marysa's help. The beasts were reluctant to move out from behind the trees and into the small clearing between them and home. He shook with chill as the freezing gale blasted through his clothes. They hastened back to the barn and put the cows in their stalls. The storm roared outside the entrance just as Marysa helped him close the large rear door.

Tam was about to open the inner door and risk Dorena's wrath, when Marysa began kindling a fire in the small hearth away from the hay. She took off her cloak and outer dress as soon as the flames caught. He watched her numbly till she began stripping him, too. "You're more frozen than you think," she said loudly, as the noise of the storm outside filled the room.

He stared at the tops of her rounded breasts, tightly pressed against her chemise. "Not now," he said hoarsely, ignored the way his voice broke, and caught her in his arms. He was taller than she was and hadn't realized it before.

"Take off that shirt, then, it's soaked. I'll have to take this off, too, since you got it wet," she said with a smile.

Tam's mouth went dry as he obeyed. He longed to reach for her again, but was deliciously caught between desire and terror. She tossed her head. Her beautiful, silky dark hair tumbled down her shoulders and onto her bare body as the pins fell out. "Perhaps you are just a boy," she said in quietly. "Here I am, and all you can do is shiver. It's not like anyone can hear us over the wind as long as we're careful."

"Wait!" he said and shed everything. Who needed a fire? His clothes should have gone up in flames from the way he felt. He should be embarrassed at the way his body showed how much he wanted to love her, but didn't care. Knowing the others were only a wall away made no difference.

Marysa lay down on a top of a rough blanket close to the hearth. Tam stretched out beside her, hot with need for her, but he wasn't sure what to do next. Just touching her warm skin and loose, dark hair brought shivers of delight.

"I love you," he said as he buried his face in her breasts. She smelled of sweat and some pungent herbs.

Marysa brushed her hand down his body, leaving tingling pleasure where her fingers wandered. "Such pale hair all over," she murmured. "But I'm glad to see I'm catching a trout, not a minnow!" Then she touched him where he ached the most.

Tam cried out as he spent himself before he'd even begun. It was sharper, deeper, than the lightning that struck him in his dreams. "Oh, Marysa, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said.

She sighed patiently. "Perhaps it's just as well," she said "I didn't know it was going to be like this. If you're going to be so noisy, we'd better wait till Mama's asleep next time."

Tam dressed quickly, even though his clothes were still damp. He was glad she was thinking of a next time. He leaned over and kissed her. "Thank you," he said, and helped her with her dress. At least she didn’t laugh at me.

Dorena looked at them keenly as they entered the cabin by the outer door. Tam hoped that walking through the heavy snow gave him a good reason to have a red face. What if she'd heard them? He'd rather die than have her know what he and Marysa had been doing, never mind how poorly. The Lord and Lady would have to watch over them next time. Marysa said to wait till Dorena was asleep. He promised himself not to be so shy, or so fast!

That evening, Tam sat by the fire after supper and looked around the cabin with new eyes. He saw many repairs not made, gaps that let in cold air, leather hinges beginning to crack for lack of oiling, and a door that didn't hang quite right. If he wanted to be a man in bed, he should be one outside of it. He started whittling small pieces of wood to fit flaws in the walls--especially the one between the barn and the living quarters--till he could chink them properly.

He glanced up at the mourning-statue for Darin on the mantel. Would his new family be angry with him when their year of grief was over and they put this doll away? He had nothing to offer them. Even the clothes on his back belonged to someone else. Oh, when was he going to remember his name and kin? How could he vow himself to Marysa when he didn't really know who he was?

Jorry lay against his right leg, while Dorena and Marysa worked on mending. Tam worked on carving a toy for the lad. One piece of wood wanted to look like a small horse, so he helped it out by cutting away the parts that didn't fit. The knife didn't feel right when he started on the eye-pits. He ought to have a curved tool with a black handle...then his head hurt again.

Tam got the rough outline done, and then let Jorry play with it. He'd polish it up later. The child was like a younger brother to him. Maybe a son? he thought hopefully. He'd have to speak with Marysa's father before he'd have a real place here.

He swore to himself that he'd work hard and prove he was worthy of her. Then he let himself look at Marysa again, her face rosy in the hearth light. He nearly sliced his finger open trying to work with the wood and gaze at her at the same time. He'd do anything to make her happy.

The warmth of the fire nearly put him to sleep. He carved without much thought on a long, narrow piece. A face grew under the blade, a proud man with flowing hair that took on a crimson glow from the flames. The empty eye-holes stared at him searchingly. Without knowing why, Tam angrily flung the wood into the hearth. Dorena looked at him oddly. "I'm sorry," he said. "It wasn't very good."

The next few days were torture. Marysa couldn't return to the inn with the snow so deep, even though the storm was over, but wouldn't have anything to do with him. He tried to work off his frustration building a snow wall behind the house to ward off the wind that always blew on someone going to the privy. He chopped wood till his arms were sore, caught small game to supplement their meager diet, and gathered pine cones to strip when he watched the cows. No matter how tired he became, he had no peace at night, only flaming dreams of Marysa that left him gasping for breath.

One evening Tam tried to make sense of Aylar's accounts to distract himself from Marysa's presence. Dorena looked surprised that he knew his letters, but had fetched the large book from under her bed and set up a tallow lamp on the table when he'd asked if there was anything to read.

The marching columns of numbers helped to cool his brain. Then he became intrigued by the puzzle they presented. Why were this family so poor? They'd once been prosperous. A dowry portion went out nearly eight years ago, but was followed by the loss of everything but this cabin and the cows a few seasons later. Marysa was older than he thought, if she was fifteen when she married. That didn't matter. If only she didn't think he was too young! He glanced at her, but she ignored him.

Tam went back to the numbers in front of him. Some coins came in each year, but flowed out just as fast. He couldn't figure out where most of them went. Other entries were clear--salt, some cloth, herbs--but the remainder was simply listed as 'paid out' with no other comment.

As he worked, he heard Marysa tell her mother she was going back to the inn tomorrow. Dorena tried to talk her daughter out of it. The old woman sounded worried. He was, too. Was this family in trouble already? Was he adding to it? The accounts didn't list any extra debt where the payments could be going, not even rent or land-right.

Then again, why should Marysa work away from here? If he labored hard enough, there should be no need. Of course, they hadn't planned on him making a hole in their food this winter.

Just before bedtime Marysa announced that she was going to check on the cows. After the smile she sent his way, he had to follow. He went to the privy first in case Dorena was watching. Then he circled around behind the snow wall to the barn door. Once he was inside, Marysa placed her lamp well away from the feed. "It certainly took you long enough," she whispered.

"What do you mean? I've stained the blankets three nights in a row dreaming of you!" he blurted out. It was too early. Jorry wasn't asleep yet, let alone Dorena. That didn't matter. "I didn't know. You didn't say anything. I thought you were angry with me, or thought I wasn't any good at it." He barely kept himself from taking her in his arms right then.

She embraced him. "Oh, Tam, I keep forgetting how new you are at this. I thought you didn't like me. I've had enough of that already..." She grimaced.

Who was that foolish? He couldn't imagine it. He gulped, and remembered he had to speak quietly. "Marysa...will you marry me? I'll make you proud of me. As soon as your father returns I'll speak to him. Oh, I wish it was Midsummer!" No one kept lovers apart during the festival that celebrated the joy found by the Lord and Lady in each other.

She laid her head on his shoulder. It still felt strange to be taller than she was. If she wanted to lean on him, he was ready to bear any burden to deserve this trust.

"What about Jorry?" she murmured in his ear. She sounded terrified.

"Any man would be glad of such a son. Including me." Didn't she know how much he wanted her? "I want to be your husband." Tam looked down at her breasts, which strained against the cloth confining them. His hands slid down to her hips and clasped her warm body against his. Lord and Lady, he shouldn't go so fast or he'd burn too hot again. He took a deep breath. That didn't help. The scent of her skin and hair nearly drove him mad.

She turned her face up to his and gently touched his cheek. "We have all the time we need, Tam. I put herbs in Mama's cup so she'd go to sleep faster tonight. You've given us all a gift by being here. My mother was giving up before you came. She loved watching over you when you were so sick. She's much happier now, when before she only grieved over Darin, and brooded over what Jorry reminded her of."

"You gave me my life," Tam whispered, and held her close. He tried to think of numbers, cool black numbers on light paper, so the flames inside didn't make him boil over too soon.

"I know what it's like to want someone..." Marysa murmured, and loosened her bodice. "Oh, yes, kiss me there again, I like that..."

Tam's lips obeyed, and he let them travel down her neck and shoulders. Soon he couldn't speak. He gave himself up to Marysa's caresses as her hands ruffled his hair and dipped down below his shirt-collar. Even with clothes on, he was shaking with desire for her. They lay down together on a pile of straw.

Dorena flung open the inner door. She barely missed kicking over the lamp as she dragged her daughter to her feet. "Wanton! Slut!" she cried, and slapped Marysa in the face.

Tam stood up and pulled the older woman away. "It was my fault, Dorena. Don't hit her!" He continued. "I love her. I love you too. Please don't be so angry!"

"I know whose lascivious ways caused our family's downfall! She can't keep her hands off men, even an innocent boy!"

"I'm not a boy. I'm man enough to know what I want," he said with a calm he didn't feel. "It's not her fault!"

"What do you know except what she's taught you?" Dorena asked furiously.

Marysa laced up her bodice. "Mama, he's not my brother, no matter how much you want him to be. He can stay here as my husband instead. Papa can't do it all." Her voice trembled. "Better Tam than one of those louts in the town who see me as nothing but a servant, or a traveler who thinks I'm on the menu!"

Was this all she thought of him? I hope she's just saying this to convince her mother, he thought. Whichever way she meant it, he'd learn how to make her love him.

Dorena looked at him with keen eyes. "Tam, how do you really feel about her?"

"I love her! I asked her to marry me. I want to be part of your family. If only your husband will approve." He suddenly felt unsure. He had nothing to bring to this match but himself. Dorena had the right to drive him away if she liked.

Marysa spoke up. "Mama, he didn't ask who Jorry's father was. He said he'd be glad of such a son. I can't do any worse than I already have, can I?"

Dorena began weeping. "Haven't we paid enough for that marriage? What more do we have to give?"

Tam put his arm around the older woman. He wanted to protect all of them.

Marysa smiled bitterly. "Tam, you'd better know the truth. When I was just a girl, I was married off to Lord Honnold, who owns a great estate. He had a lover already, but not the kind to give him heirs. Our lands were close to his, so everyone thought it was a great match. I thought--I thought he might love me, not just use me for breeding..." Her voice faltered. Then she continued. "It was no good. He blamed me for not bearing, even though he only came to my bed when he was drunk. I hope you never learn any of his tricks! To make a long story short, his cousin came to visit and taught me there's more than duty in bed. He was long gone when Jorry was born, though. I thought Honnold wouldn't mind. The boy had his blood, and I never turned him away the few times he wanted me. Then he saw me talking with the steward, and accused of wanting to cuckold him again. Why he'd care I'll never know--his favorite and he had their own bedroom, just down the hall from mine!" Tears dripped down her face.

"I swore I was true to him. He didn't believe me, but let it go that time. Then he was suspicious of the stable boy, a farmer bringing his rent, and any man who wasn't half-dead. I told him I may as well make eyes at everybody for all the attention he gave me! Then he beat me whenever he thought I betrayed him. He wouldn't stop till I told him everything, though I had to make up most of it. I put up with it till he started on the boy."

"That's why Jorry has nightmares," Tam said.

"I just hope they're not as bad as mine," Marysa said with a trembling voice. "I stole away with him to my family's home when I couldn't bear it any more. Honnold's men took everything when I wouldn't give Jorry up. We had to run. I don't think he knows we have this cabin. He's got the local mage under his thumb, but not as much as he thinks. Tigran put a spell on us so we can't be found, even by another wizard. He threatened to turn us in if we don't keep paying him. Papa started by trapping, and went back to it, at his age! Since then, I've watched my mother work like a drudge, Papa risk his life in the winter, and my boy wear rags and eat slops. Last year my brother coughed himself to death because all our money goes to that wretch Tigran. But I couldn't let Honnold hurt my son!" She began sobbing.

Tam quietly slipped away from Dorena and let Marysa cry on his shoulder. How brave she was! She only worried about her family, and hadn't said how much she must hate working at the inn. He was outraged by the rest of what she'd said. A mage so corrupt he squeezed the people he should be helping—that was wrong! "Did you ever see Jorry's father again?" he asked. He imagined what Honnold and the cousin looked like. The image of a wizened, aging man with graying hair came into his mind, along with the mental picture of a dark-haired younger man, only with Jorry's bright blues eyes. Damn both of them for leaving Marysa like this!

"For all I know Honnold is the father. I never want to see him again!" Marysa said, her head still drooping. "I never saw Jarrett either. He left one night and I heard he became a soldier. I'd be surprised if he even remembers me."

Tam lifted up one of her hands and kissed it. "I know I'm only second-best, but will you have me anyway?"

She stepped back, took his hands in hers, and said, "Yes! Oh, yes!" Tam gently embraced her again, as if they'd been wed for years. She started laughing and crying at the same time till his kiss quieted her. I'll make her so happy she'll never dream of any other man, he swore to himself.

Dorena looked at them both, and shook her head. "Well, I see no reason to object now. I accept this betrothal, but things must be decent between you two until the wedding. Tam, I'm sorry, but you have to find some blankets and make a bed out here. I don't know what's happened already, but you have to behave yourselves now. I'm putting both of you on your honor not to seek each other out that way till you're married."

Marysa withdrew from his arms. "Which means that her eyes will be on us both even when she's asleep!"

"Mine will be on you," Tam said. He went back into the cabin to fetch the blankets, while the two women talked to each other. He and Marysa were going to be separated for now, but soon they would never be parted again.

The cabin was a mess. With everyone gone, Jorry had dug into several chests looking for the small cloth dog now clutched in his arms. The boy partially awoke as Tam picked things up. "What's going on?" the child asked.

"Jorry, I love your mother. I want to be her husband, and your grandmother agrees, but till we're married I have to sleep in the barn. After that, your mother and I will be in the same bed. I'll make you one of your own when your grandfather comes back. A big fellow like you deserves it."

The boy looked puzzled. "Do I have to call you Da?"

"Only if you want to. Or we could just be friends." How did Marysa's son feel about this?

Jorry chewed his bottom lip for a moment, and smiled. "You don't hit me. I like you." Then he yawned and fell asleep again.

If only life was always so simple! Tam smiled. Soon it would be, at least for him, if Aylar agreed to let him marry Marysa.

He caught a glimpse of something bright in the bottom of one of the chests he opened as he looked for more blankets. Curiosity made him clear away the clothes on top. He found a dark blue cloak, a fine shirt with intricate beading, and the long, shining blade of a sword. Marysa's family had been rich indeed to afford such things for their son before his death. Why hadn't they'd sold them when Darin was sick? No doubt the mage would have taken the money and let the boy die anyway, he thought.

Tam's fingers stroked the hilt. It fit well in his hand. Perhaps the sword wasn't Darin's. Or maybe his own head was so filled with dreams of Marysa he wasn't thinking straight! He quietly closed the lid of the chest. One thing at a time.

He barely slept that night, and not just because of the hard floor or the stench of the cows. Marysa was going to be his wife! He prayed for Aylar to return soon and bless their union. How could he wait? He almost didn't need a fire in the small hearth in the barn to keep warm as he imagined Marysa's arms around him forever.

But that night he dreamed of the sword.

 

Chapter 7

 

A few days later Marysa wrapped herself in two cloaks and left to work at the inn. He argued against it, and so did Dorena, but Marysa held firm. "That mage'll think I've run away to cheat him of his bribes if I don't come back," she said. "And I can eat there instead of here. That'll help some."

Tam was angry. Did she pay only in money? He didn't ask. Instead, he stood at the front door and clenched his fists in rage as he watched her walk away into the forest towards the town. Whatever she did, it wasn't her fault. If only he could use the sword in the chest to teach that evil mage a lesson!

Despite feeling heartsick at missing her, and the extra work, it was easier for him once Marysa left. She'd been so affectionate, even with her mother watching, that it was all he could do to keep his hands off her. He moved back into the cabin and used the same bed as before, though Jorry now slept with his grandmother to help keep the old woman warm. It was becoming colder at night as winter deepened in the forest.

Tam slept better at night once she was gone, though the dreams never stopped. Now they included a blurry-faced man in a red silk robe leering at Marysa. She cried out for someone to rescue her, while Tam rode by on a chestnut mare and cut the fellow down. Tam's body always sang with delight as she rewarded him for his bravery--that part didn't change.

During the daytime he repaired everything that he knew how to. Some evenings he drew plans in the hard dirt floor for another room at the side of the cabin. He and Marysa would have more room if they put up a new barn and then used the old one in back, but it'd take forever to clean out the smell. Best to begin fresh, he thought, as he imagined the joy of having her with him forever. Oh, if only he could build a hall like the one he sometimes dreamed of. It had a high ceiling and a long table fit for a king. He and his beloved sometimes feasted there in his night-visions, and then walked upstairs to a room with a wide bed that belonged only to them.

Dorena fussed over him more than ever. Tam became worried when she started looking more tired without Marysa to aid her. He tried to help out, but she became irritated when he did. Some days he took Jorry with him when he led the cows out to forage, and had to dig deeper than ever to reach below the snow. That gave her some rest. Tam also made a game of bringing in the firewood and cleaning out the stalls, so Jorry would join in more often without feeling overburdened. Tam tried to teach Jorry how to sew, but Dorena was afraid of the child breaking one of the few precious needles. However, Jorry thought it was fun to pound dough, at least till he was tired, so that much was taken from the older woman's shoulders.

The days kept growing shorter, till it seemed they rose in the dark and went to bed that way as well. The cabin began to fill with wonderful smells as Dorena clearly took advantage of Jorry's absence to do some baking. One night Tam came in with the boy and saw a garland of bright-leaved herbs hung up over the fireplace. "It's going to be feast-time soon!" Jorry said, and ran around as if he hadn't been tumbling in and out of snowdrifts all day long.

"Yes, dear, in two days," Dorena said. She looked smug till she gazed at the death-doll of her son, half-hidden by the garland. "Tam, do you remember anything about your home this time of year?"

He stopped where he was and closed his eyes. Sometimes he retrieved a few images that way. He was usually all right as long as he didn't push for more. "Midwinter..." he murmured to himself. "I'm in a great hall full of lights. Mama--no, Esa--is holding my hand so I don't make a fuss. I don't see Father. Everyone's too tall. She's taking me to the front. I see him! I want to wave to him, but I'm not supposed to. Everyone's shouting. I'm scared, but I can't run away. I have to be good, or I won't have any sweets after supper. Oh! Now I don't see anything." He gasped as pain hammered his head, and his vision went blurry when he opened his eyes. Tam sat down on a bench, as exhausted as if he'd put in two days' work instead of one. "I'm sorry, Dorena," he whispered. "That's all." The only good thing about this latest attempt was the memory of the woman's plump, freckled hands.

"There, lad, don't worry. I'll tell the story." Dorena handed out mugs of steaming cider sweetened with honey. Tam and Jorry sat back to listen once the older woman had settled herself in the one good chair.

"When the Lord and Lady had their first four children," she began, "they grew up to become the Elements, Arial, the Giant, Salamander, and Shapechanger. After they made the world, each one decided to hold a festival in celebration. Shapechanger was happiest in spring, because the ice melted and he could move around again. He promised to give a party for everyone when he first woke up. That's why everyone plays like a child after the winter storms are over. Arial said she would give one in the summer for the Lord's birthday. That's why the sun shines the longest then, for He lingers as long as He can. Then the Giant said he'd give one for the Lord's and Lady's wedding anniversary, which is in the fall. Because he's so respectful of both his parents, he always has the most to offer at the feast. Salamander was unhappy. She's weakest in the cold weather and can't do much to help celebrate the Lady's birthday at Midwinter. The Giant tries to help, but he's always so sleepy then he can't do much. That why we have to use his gifts carefully in the fall, so we have enough to last till spring. Salamander tries to burn brightly in our hearths to make up for it," Dorena said.

"Of course, we have to help by providing fuel," she added. "That's why this month is called the Candle, for flames burn low at this time of year no matter how hard the Salamander works. Next month is the Mountain, because the Giant was the first to begin shaping the earth. On the last day of the Candle, the Lord comes for the shortest time and stays away the longest. It's said that He does battle against the invaders from Outside once each year. We mourn His departure and keep watch in the night to keep evil away until He returns for the first day of the Mountain. Even though the Giant is very sleepy, he still protects us once the new day begins. But none of the Elements rule during the Dark Night, so the eldest person in each family must sit up and guard the doors and windows."

"What about the Lady?" Jorry asked. "Why doesn't she have a party for Her birthday?"

"Oh, she has one every month, but only women go to Her feast. At Midwinter She sometimes takes pity on us and watches over the earth instead of following Her husband. The Dark Night is no longer evil when She shines Her light. And when Her face is full, then only great good will come," Dorena said. "Around here, it's so cold She usually prefers hiding under the clouds! But I remember, there was a clear night as far as the eye could see about fifteen years ago. The sky was so bright, both from the Lady and the strange sky colors in the north, that we knew something important was about to happen. My youngest son Darin was born two days later, and he was the best lad..." Her voice choked up.

Tam bowed his head. Of course she missed her son.