Dorena calmed down. "But when the Lord is safely back from His journey into darkness the day after, then everyone feasts on the Giant's bounty and stays warm with the help of the Salamander! Those who sat up now rest, while the others serve them!" Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears.

Tam was glad he was here now. With both Aylar and Marysa gone, Dorena would have been terribly lonely with only Jorry to watch over, and would have had no one to help her.

Two days later they put up more garlands and lit all the lamps in the household. Only light drove away the darkness and kept people safe from the demons that roamed the earth when both the Lord and Lady were absent, as they were that night. Tam and Jorry huddled under the blankets, while Dorena bundled up and sat next to the fire. Even with the hearth as full as could be, it was still bitterly cold.

Tam realized he must have fallen asleep when he heard Dorena muttering to herself. No, it was prayer. He saw her silhouetted against the hearth light as she faced the small shrine in the corner. The flames picked out Darin's death-doll that she held in her arms.

"...though you took one son from me, I thank Thee for giving me another," the old woman said softly. "Don't let Marysa hurt him. The boy really loves her, but she's just tired. Thank you for letting me catch them before things went too far. Fall and winter are bad times for having children, as I should know. Darin was always sickly, poor lad. Let me keep Tam in his place, Great Lady. You have the stars in the sky and the Elements, and I've lost three of my children to You already. Isn't that enough? Watch over Aylar and bring him home, I beg you! And protect Marysa when she's in town. Keep Honnold from finding her, and forgive her for anything she does there to help us. Lady, you know what those evil folk are like. And please, please find a way so she doesn't have go back there any more..."

Tam felt like throwing up. Even Dorena guessed what kind of bribes the mage probably wanted. It wasn't Marysa's fault! Once they were married, she'd never go back. If he had to, he'd sneak into the town and break Tigran's neck. He didn't care how powerful the man was.

His stomach churned when he thought of Marysa and the mage together. He'd better go to the privy. He made a bit of noise so Dorena would know he was awake, then pulled on his boots and threw a cloak around himself as he stumbled out of the cabin without regard to any danger. A good thing he'd worn most of his clothes to bed.

The cold woke him up all the way. He shivered as he got rid of used cider, from more than the cold. "It's not Marysa's fault," he repeated to himself. He couldn't be angry with her. If only she loves me a little, I can bear it, he thought. He remembered the way she'd leaned on his shoulder in the barn, and calmed down. That had been real.

He gazed at the sky for a moment on his way back to the cabin. The stars blazed brilliantly between scraps of cloud. He knew the names of some of the star-patterns--the Candle, the Mountain, and the Snowdemon, while the Hunter was near the horizon. Above them was a single star that wasn't part of any group. He suddenly knew it was his.

Tam was startled when Dorena touched him on the shoulder. "Lad, come inside," she said. "It's not safe for anyone to be out this night. The stars are the Lord's and Lady's children, but can't be trusted when their parents aren't around."

"Just looking at my star," Tam said, and pointed at the shining gem in the sky that sat in such lonely splendor.

Her eyes grew wide. "You must have born just when Darin was. He was nearly given that star when he was blessed by a mage at the Feast of Fools in the spring. A good thing I had witnesses to prove he was born two days later. I wouldn't wish having that star on anyone."

"Is it a bad one?" He knew that some stars meant that the bearer would have to fight evil, either in the world or inside his own soul. He couldn't remember what his was. Why could he recall only part of what he'd learned before coming here?

"No, Tam. That star is just a heavy burden for anyone to bear. Ah, but it could be worse. With the Lady shining down on your birth, it means you'll have Her favor whenever you’re too lonely. But then, that's not a hard guess. A handsome lad like you won't need much help with that!" She patted him on the shoulder. "Tonight must be your birthday. The demons won't attack you. Come in anyway, before we both freeze."

He willingly obeyed, though he wasn't sleepy at all now. He sat with Dorena by the fire. "I hope Marysa returns soon," he said. "I hope your husband does, too."

"So do I," she said with a sigh.

He couldn't sit still. He draped another quilt over the older woman, and felt warm inside when she smiled up at him. He built up the fire, and then paced around the cabin. Part of him longed to be outside no matter how cold it was.

As he turned towards the door, he knocked over a small pot and caught it just in time to keep it from breaking. Dorena uttered a soft cry when the dried plants inside fell out.

Tam helped her scoop them up. "Do they turn into gold?" he asked.

"More valuable than that till spring, when they grow fresh again," she said. "It's childbane, and not very much of it. The cabin's too cold for me to grow the stuff in a pot. Did you ever think how fast you might have become a father if I hadn't interrupted you that night?"

"No." His face burned as hot as the hearth. His mind had been on Marysa's warm skin and silky hair. Now he imagined her growing large with his child, and could not describe the joy it brought him.

"Good thing I've kept you apart, then. When spring comes, it'll be easy to find. A woman must take it during her moon-time and a week after, then she's safe for as long as she drinks the tea for the same half a moon each cycle.”

"If Marysa and I--if we're to be married, why does she have to take it at all?"

"Our life here is hard. Babes born in the fall or winter often die, and their mothers with them. It's best for a child to be born in the spring as poor as we are now. Marysa would start breeding in a month with you for a husband. She had a hard time with Jorry, and was sick all summer, even living in a proper house with servants. Who knows what might happen here?"

Tam's delight at the thought of Marysa bearing him a son or daughter turned to fear that she might die. Oh blessed Lady, he couldn't stand it if he was the cause of such pain. "What are we supposed to do?" he asked. "Do we have to wait till spring, or even Midsummer?"

"If Marysa can buy more in town, we can have the wedding as soon as Aylar returns," Dorena said. "If he returns..."

"He will," Tam said with more confidence than he felt. What if Aylar never came back? How were they going to find the money to keep the mage from telling Honnold where they lived? Then he decided to take care of it. Perhaps the Lord who gave out justice to all meant for him to find that sword.

Dorena yawned. "Ah, you're a good lad. You don't have to wed Marysa to stay here."

"I love her."

"She's the only young woman you know," she said. "Wait till Festival, anyway. A lot of people come in from the countryside to Bogatay. You might find someone you like better then."

"It's not just that!" he said. "She does everything she can to help you when she's home. She's a good mother to Jorry, too. He's so happy around her, and you are, too. I know she doesn't love me as much as I love her, but...she's kind to me anyway. I dream about her every night." He hadn't meant to say that.

Her face softened. "Aylar was like that, too. The Lady  knows I wasn't far behind! A good thing my mother gave us a basket of the leaves for a wedding present, or Marysa would be older than she is. I wish I could grow it in a pot here," she fretted. Then Dorena looked stern. "I hate to say this about my own daughter, but she might not be the best of wives if she has to keep going into town. I don't mean that she'd betray you just for fun, or celebrate Festival every day of the year, but..."

Tam tried to stay calm. "The time may come when she doesn't have to go," he said, though his voice shook. He changed the subject. "What kind of mage is Tigran? What element is he?" He remembered just enough to know it was important.

"Fire, curse him! But it doesn't matter. If he were Water, he'd be ice. If he were Earth, then he'd have a heart of stone. And if he were Air, then he'd be the kind of wind that put sleet down your neck!" She clenched one fist in anger.

Somehow he knew what that meant. An Air mage might guess what he was up to before he struck. A Fire mage could hurt him if he didn't attack quickly, but it was doubtful Tigran would expect much if the mage was used to bullying others. Tam kept his plans to himself. Dorena would forbid him if she knew. "We'll find a way," he said. "I love her no matter what."

The night passed swiftly after their talk. Tam woke up with his head on the table and a blanket wrapped around him. Dorena lay snug in her bed, while a warm fire blazed away. The lamps were out and a faint light crept through the crack at the bottom of the door. The Dark Night was gone, and the world was safe.

Tam put his blanket on the older woman, and then woke Jorry. "We have to get up and start breakfast," he said in a whisper. "Your grandmother has to rest." He looked in the cupboard and found some food already cooked. That explained the wonderful smells and the secrecy for the past few days. Jorry set the table as quietly as the small boy could, which wasn't very, and Tam warmed up a pot full of cider over the fire. He set the child to watching it so it didn't bubble over while he brought in more wood.

Dorena pretended to be surprised when she woke up, but Tam guessed she'd been listening for longer than that. All of them laughed and feasted that day, though the older woman napped during the afternoon.

When the sun set, Tam stood with bowed head, and reminded Jorry to do the same, while Dorena prayed out loud for the welfare of those who were missing from their circle, both the living and the dead. Tam nearly added some names of his own, then caught himself. He didn't know who they were for certain. Aliana was only the empty picture of a beautiful woman, while Esa meant soft, warm hands and shining red hair. Other faces floated before his eyes, but they had no names. He sighed, and replaced all of them with the image of Marysa as she'd looked that night in the barn, and the feel of her head on his shoulder as she'd leaned on him for strength and support.

By this time next year she'd be his wife. Who needed memories?

 

Chapter 8

 

Marysa came home two weeks later. Tam breathed thanks for this answer to his prayer. Then he realized something was wrong. Her face was red from more than the chill wind outside. "I'm sorry, Mama, I can't go back! I just can't do it any more!" she cried once she came in the door. Then she sat down on the one chair and began weeping.

Tam closed the door for her, and quietly moved his bedroll back to the barn before Dorena asked him to.

Marysa's voice was loud enough to carry to the next town, let alone to the other side of the wall. "It was bad enough before, but when he wanted me to sell myself to the travelers I slapped his face. He was so stunned that he just stood there as I left. If he makes any trouble, I'll walk all the way to Lochil and plead our case before the Guardian!"

"You know your father doesn't think it'll do any good," Dorena said, though Tam barely heard the older woman. He hastily came back around and entered the cabin.

"I don't care! Let the whole filthy story come out! I'll--I'll take oath before the Earth Spirit in the Sanctuary north of Lochil if that's what it takes! I'll raise a big enough stink nobody will ignore it!" Marysa stood up and almost ran into Tam, who was standing near the door.

"I won't let anyone treat you like that," he said quietly, as he reached out for her. She retreated, her eyes briefly widening with fear. He wanted to strangle the man who'd taught her that. As soon as the weather cleared, he'd go to town himself and kill the mage. It couldn't be much of a walk, since Marysa had made it several times this winter without any trouble she'd mentioned. He'd dreamed of rescuing her since before Midwinter. The sword had called to him the moment he'd touched it.

Marysa softened. "Tam, this isn't your fight," she said, and briefly embraced him.

Was it his imagination, or was she forcing herself to touch him? He ignored the flare of warmth his body felt anyway. "Anything that threatens you is my fight," he said. "That is, if you still want it that way." He hoped she didn't hate all men after what both Lord Honnold and Tigran had done to her.

She looked startled, as if she'd forgotten her pledge to him. Then her face fell. "I don't know," she whispered, as she let her head droop. "I need time to think. Forgive me, Tam. It's not your fault."

He let his arms drop from around her, and winced at her look of gratitude. "I'm stronger than you think, Marysa," he said softly. "And we might not have any time if he follows you."

"He's a coward. Don't worry about that," she said with a twisted smile.

Dorena intervened, and hovered over her daughter as if Marysa were ill or injured. When Tam went to bed that night, he opened the chest as if to fetch one more quilt, and took the sword with him as well.

Before he went to sleep that night he'd made sure the sword was cleaned, oiled and sharpened. Something told him to rub down the leather of the belt and the scabbard, too. The pouch on the belt held what he needed, including a small flask of oil that smelled different than anything Dorena had in the cabin, while his hands...his hands went to the tasks required of them without a moment's hesitation.

Though it was likely too soon for the mage to show up, he awoke briefly twice before dawn and walked around the outside of the cabin and barn to make sure all was well. From now on, till he knew that his family was safe, he planned to sleep fully dressed save for boots, and not just because the barn was colder than the cabin.

He finally fell asleep in peace when the noise of the wind picked up. A storm would keep anyone from the road, even a fire mage who could light his way through it. With any luck, the rotten bastard would end up caught in it and freeze solid.

At last the clamor of the wind and the snow hissing through the cracks woke him. Tam shivered, and fastened one of his blankets up at the back entrance. The cattle huddled together in the narrow stalls, and he brought down some feed for them as soon as he rekindled the fire in the hearth.

Dorena opened the inner door for him today, but made him wipe his feet. He'd left the sword and its belt out in the barn, and had wrapped it well to keep the leather from getting too cold and cracking. Who was I, to know all this? Last night he'd seen the face of the old woman with the helm in his dreams again.

There wasn't much to do today except sit by the fire and stay warm. Breakfast was scanty, and the mid-day meal even more so. Marysa hadn't brought any scraps from the inn this time, and what was barely enough for three stretched thin with four at the table. Tam distracted himself from hunger with memories of the Midwinter feast less than a month ago, and with wood-carving. After all, a new husband must bring an offering made with his own hands to any marriage if he had no other. Deep in his heart he feared that Marysa regretted her promise to him now, but as long as he kept working on his morning-gift he could pretend to hope.

The storm raged for the next few days. Concentrating on trying to make a set of platters from wood suited only for burning was enough challenge to distract him most of the time. Just getting the basic shape right was turning out to be hard, while keeping all four more or less the same size required Dorena's sewing chalk, the use of one of her needles to stick in the middle, and a piece of thread. A border of flowers engraved around the edge of each platter was actually going to be easy compared to the rest.

Fortunately, when the frustration of dealing with the splintery wood was too much, he could always work on a present for Jorry. He'd found a small piece of rockwood that would polish up nicely for that. It was just as well that he didn't have the same material for the platters; he'd be shaping the things till Midsummer.

When even that didn't help distract him from Marysa's silent presence, he left for the barn to care for the cows--and to practice a little with the blade in the yard behind the barn whenever the wind died down. The patterns he'd woven with his staff worked just as well with the long, shining length of steel. His right arm grew tired from the extra weight at first, but he became stronger quickly.

The days stretched into a couple of weeks. The storm slackened, but the snow was so high Tam felt they were still safe, if only for a little while longer.

One morning he walked into the cabin with the swordbelt around his waist. It was a little bit loose in the most-used notch, but fit well once he took it in. Tam told Dorena he'd lead the cows out today. The fodder in the barn was disappearing at an alarming rate, and spring was still far away.

"You don't need that just to watch the cattle," the older woman said. Fear brightened her eyes as she gazed at the hilt of the sword.

"I'm sorry if the sight brings you grief," he said. And why shouldn't it, if it belonged to her dead son? "I may need it and I'd better find out what I can do with it before anything happens. There's wolf-sign north of the pasture closest to here." He'd seen it just before Midwinter, though it'd looked old even then. Dorena looked gaunt and frightened. He didn't want to name what—or who—everyone was really afraid of.

If a wolf showed up in a red silk robe, Tam was willing to use the blade on him, too. Of course, it's wrong to wonder just how fat the mage is... he thought with a secret grin.

As Tam watched the cows that day, he practiced the pattern his arm knew better than he did. The physical effort cleared his mind, and a plan emerged. He'd have to sit up and finish one of the platters as soon as possible. That would give him an excuse to go to town.

Maybe he could take the beaded shirt, too. Even if he couldn't find the mage, they needed more food, and soon. Lately he'd dreamed of eating more often than he had of Marysa, though his favorite night-vision combined both. In his favorite dream he sat in a vaulted hall with her at his side, their plates heaped with luscious fruits whose names he almost remembered.

He ruefully watched over the wretched beasts in his care. Tam knew the family had to keep the cows well fed. They'd prove their worth next year, when they'd be freshened by a neighbor's bull who liked to stray, especially when Aylar loosened part of the fence. Dorena had recounted with glee how quickly her husband repaired the thorn-brush barrier once the bull was done and back on his own land. Once their herd was large enough, she'd said, they'd move south and trade the cattle for some land where no one had ever heard of either Lord Honnold or Tigran. He still wondered if it was wrong for him to hope that one of the cows accidentally stepped in a hole and had to be slaughtered.

That evening he worked on completing one of the platters so he could show it to people in Bogatay as an example of his work. Marysa appeared more cheerful. Perhaps she believed that Tigran had given up on her. Tam wasn't so sure. He'd better act soon.

Jorry fussed a lot that night, probably because he was always hungry. Instead of fighting to get him to bed, Marysa fetched a small board a little longer than it was wide with squares on it, and had her son throw dice with her in a game where they moved the colored wooden pieces around. Tam found it familiar. He knew the better player tried to make a bridge across the long way, while the lesser one only had to block across the width of the board.

Dorena watched, did mending, and offered advice a few times to Jorry, who wasn't sure exactly what to do. Marysa glanced over at Tam, but didn't say anything.

Did she hope he’d given up on her? As the fire burned down, Tam fetched more wood from outside to build it up. Dorena loudly thanked him, but Marysa was quiet. Why? If she'd decided to refuse him, she could certainly say so with her mother here.

Then the older woman stood up with one hand on her back, groaned, and bundled up for a trip to the privy.

The moment Dorena was out the door, Marysa put Jorry to bed. As soon as the boy fell asleep, Tam put his work down. "Marysa, these platters are for your family no matter what you decide. I want to give you another gift that's worth even more. Show me the path to Bogatay and tell me what the mage looks like. I'll make sure he never bothers you again. Tell your mother that I plan to trade my work and the fancy shirt in the chest for other things we need, like food. Or childbane. I'll take one of my carvings with me to show what I can do."

She looked astonished. "How can you do that without getting us in more trouble? Everyone heard me shouting at him!"

Tam smiled. "I'll dress in those fine clothes and be a rich man's son trying to trade on my own. I'll complain about the road, the bad weather, how some family nearby cheated me, and so on. If I don't go back with a lot of money, everyone in my family will laugh at me. In fact, I'll tell the mage that if he helps me now, I'll pay him a lot later when I inherit my Jewel. All I really want is to get him to speak to me in private. Then I'll strike. This sword feels right in my hand, Marysa. I don't know how I learned to use it, but I'm good. He might get one spell in, but he won't live long enough for two." He didn't know who he was trying to convince, her or himself.

"Tam, the risk! You could be killed!"

"If he was as good as Kleos Stoneburner, he'd be at Diesa Tower or the College, not out here. When was the last time you actually saw him burn anything?"

"The day I came home," she said in a dull voice. She gently pulled her bodice over and showed him a half-healed burn on her shoulder. "I didn't want Mama to know."

He went to her side, leaned over, and softly kissed the horrid scar below her beautiful white neck. "Marysa, I'll do this anyway. You've done so much for me already, I have to help. Yet...will you accept this as a gift from me? I've waited as patiently as I can. I'll always love you." His voice broke. Tam turned his head so she couldn't see the tears in his eyes.

"Oh, Tam, it's not your fault. I'm so angry with that mage, and I make you bear the burden of it." She went into his arms and laid her head on his shoulder.

Marysa fit there as if she had been made for his embrace. Tam sighed, and forgave her everything at once. "Do...do you really care for me?" he asked hesitantly. He'd do anything to deserve her love.

She looked up at him sadly. "Not the way I did Jarrett. But look how he left me! You're the best thing that's happened to me in a long time, and my heart feels like leather. Maybe I don't know how to love anyone any more."

"It doesn't matter," he said softly, and stroked her hair. He felt more tenderness than desire for her now. Maybe if she was safe long enough she'd soften once more. After all, she hadn't given up caring for her son.

"It does matter," she said. "You deserve better."

The door creaked as Dorena returned. Tam backed away, but held both of Marysa's hands in his own and kissed them.

Marysa lifted her chin and said, "Mama, Tam wants to go to town and trade some of his carvings for childbane and food. It's not fair to make us both wait till spring. We haven't done anything wrong, but can't you remember what it was like when you were young?"

Tam prayed for Dorena to agree. Once he and Marysa were married, he'd show her how much he cared. Maybe someday she'd look at him eagerly, and not just patiently. Perhaps when she didn't have to be afraid of the mage her heart would revive.

Dorena looked worried. "You'll have to wait till Aylar gets home. He meant to be back by now, and I wouldn't feel right conducting the ceremony by myself. I want you both to be properly wed, and that means two adults to witness it."

Marysa sighed, and nodded. Tam reluctantly agreed, though he ached to have his betrothed in his arms and in his bed. This was Dorena's house, and they had to obey her rules. Once the real obstacle to this match was gone, they'd all be much safer.

The next morning he made ready to leave. Dorena looked startled. "I said you were going to have to wait," she exclaimed.

"I know. I don't mind. Well, not too much. But we need food, especially since Marysa has to stay here. I can hear Jorry cry at night because he's so hungry. If nothing else, I'll eat in town and that will save more for you. Who knows me there, Dorena? I'm much safer there than the rest of you."

"Then why are you taking extra clothes?" she asked, gesturing towards the splendid shirt, tunic and breeches that were laid out to be packed in one of Aylar's old knapsacks.

"I'll change into them when I'm just outside the walls. If I look poor, they'll think I'm desperate and try to cheat me. If no one likes the carvings, I'll trade the shirt. It should be worth a lot." He pointed at the jeweled buttons. "Even if they're just glass I can get plenty of food for them. Marysa told me that Bogatay is bigger than I thought, and that means people who want to dress up." Marysa had also told him where the mage lived, and which inn the man preferred.

The older woman grumbled a little, but agreed. Then her face went white when Tam buckled on the sword. "What do you need that for? The town's peaceful enough!"

"Someone might try to steal from me if he thinks I'm rich," Tam said calmly. "I need new clothes anyway. I'm growing out of Darin's and I have to wear your husband's extra boots. If I sell the shirt, I can get some cloth as well as food." And some childbane, he thought, but only if there's extra. I won't starve Jorry for my own pleasure. "I just want to make sure I come back home with them."

Dorena burst into tears. "Don't you think I know why you're going? As soon as you picked up that sword, I saw what was in your eyes! You'll be killed!"

"No, I won't. Nobody knows who I am or where I come from," he said, pretending to be calm despite the sudden terror inside.

"Then I'll go instead!" she said. "Who looks at a cracked old woman? Oh, you're right, we need all those things, but you have to stay safe here!"

"None of us are safe, Mama," Marysa said. "The bad weather was the only thing that's kept Tigran from coming here. Maybe he's told Honnold where we are by now. If I thought I could do it, I'd go back, pretend to agree to do what he asks of me, and stab him myself. I don't like it, either! But this is Tam's gift to me. His gift to all of us."

"Let me protect you, Dorena," Tam said. "I won't be too proud to strike him from behind if I get the chance. I don't plan to die or even get hurt. I want to come back here and know we can live here without having to be afraid all the time." He shook for a moment, feeling the acrid taste of poison on his lips from one of his nightmares. "Do you want Jorry to grow up working himself to death to make Tigran rich? Or let Honnold get him?"

That worked. She sighed, wiped her eyes, and gave him a small jar with a stopper. "Take this, too. It's salve made from fireweed, and good for burns."

Then Jorry came in with a small load of kindling. "Where are you going, Da? I want to go with you!"

"No, lad, not this time. Perhaps in a month or so, when the weather's better," Tam said. It made him feel warm inside when the child called him that. He vowed to earn it.

He looked out the door the boy had left open. It was a bright, sunny day. Snow-melt might make the path more treacherous, and he'd have to watch his step.

"Tam, come back safely," Marysa said. She went outside with him to show him the way. "Don't get hurt. If you don't find a chance to do it, come back and try again later. I won't think any less of you."

He smiled, glad she was so concerned for him. "When I return, he'll be dead. His own greed will destroy him."

Marysa walked him to the beginning of the trail to Bogatay, marked by blazes on the trees on either side of it, then went back. Tam began his journey trudging through the soft, deep snow.

He suddenly heard hoof-beats, and ran back to the cabin. He'd waited too long. If only he'd gone yesterday, or the day before. He rushed inside. Jorry hid in a chest out in the barn, while Tam barred the back doors. Dorena pulled out long kitchen knives for her and Marysa to hold. Tam put the chair against the front door, drew his sword, and wrapped the cloak around his left arm for a makeshift shield. He peered out of a nearly closed shutter.

Two men on horses rode through the forest and towards the house. Honnold wouldn't need anyone else if I weren't here, Tam thought. He whispered, "Keep one busy while I go after the other. I'll finish him off as quickly as I can, and help you with the second."

The women nodded silently. Then Dorena said, "Tam, you and Marysa can be bound together after death if we don't live through this." She took her daughter's hand and laid it on top of Tam's arm underneath the cloak. "I'm the eldest member of the family present," she continued. "We don't have a candle flame, a bowl of water, or a clod of earth, but we have this window for air to witness your oaths, even if it's half-shut. There's a lot more to the ceremony, but we don't have time. Tam, do you take Marysa for your life partner, to love, to cherish, and everything else?"

"Yes," he gasped. Even though this marriage might be short, he didn't care.

"Marysa, do you take Tam for your life part--" Dorena's voice was cut short by her daughter's whoop of joy. One of the men suddenly flung back his hood and revealed his face.

They were close enough that Tam saw the fellow's dark hair, beard, and a pair of piercing blue eyes. Like Jorry's. Marysa ripped her hand away from Tam's arm, dragged the chair away from the door, and flung herself out into the yard. "Jarrett, Jarrett, I never thought I'd see you again!"

The other man pulled back his own head gear to show gray hair and a short gray beard. Dorena's face lit up with joy, and she followed her daughter out the door to the horsemen.

Tam stood there, stunned with shock. His chest hurt, as if someone had torn out his heart. He numbly sheathed his sword and watched them.

Aylar--it had to be him, Dorena was too happy for the man to be anyone else--dismounted and led his horse around to the barn. Tam went through the inner door and unbarred the doorway to the stalls. Jorry climbed out of his chest and jumped into his grandfather's arms, babbling about everything he'd done since who knew when. "We don't have much time," the older man said gruffly. "We aren't the only ones on the road. We barely avoided them when we crossed the outskirts of Bogatay."

"Who?" Tam asked. He felt shaky, but tried hard not to show any weakness.

"You're still alive! Good. That damn mage and two of his bullies are on their way here. I told Jarrett about you, and we both hoped you were still alive and could stand with us. It won't hurt to have another sword when they show up. I hope you can use that thing."

"Dorena!" Aylar shouted through the inner door into the cabin. "You, Marysa, and Jorry, go hide near the privy. They won't look there first. Drop the boy in if they come close. Better to have him smell than to let him fall into their hands."

The women and the boy left. Jarrett walked in and said, "There you are. We'll all take up positions around the house, but not inside. They'll waste time attacking it, while we strike them from behind."

Tam hated him on sight, but listened anyway. As long as Marysa and her kin were in danger, he'd cooperate.

Jarrett directed Tam to hide behind the woodpile at the side of the house, while he and Aylar became part of two clumps of high, snow-covered brush on either side of the clearing in front of the door. The younger man took out a bow and some arrows, but didn't ask if Tam knew how to use them.

Just as well, Tam thought. He didn't know which way he'd aim if forced to choose between the mage and Jarrett. He heard more hoof-beats, and crouched down out of the wind behind the stack of firewood.

Three men rode into the clearing. One got down and looked at the prints left by Aylar and Jarrett's mounts. "They're here," the man said. "At least their horses are." Then he edged away to one side.

The leader pulled back his cowl and smiled. He was heavy and dark-haired, with a curly black mustache and no beard. "I thought I sensed him again, along with the old one. How convenient to have them all together!" He gazed at the door. "Come out, come out, wherever you are. You can't hide from me. I know you're here. Why, if you send Marysa out first I may be generous and let the rest of you live."

Tam gritted his teeth in anger and began to rise, so he could rush out and pierce the wizard through with his blade. Then he heard noise behind him.

The man who'd checked the hoof-prints drew his sword and lunged at him. Tam threw a piece of wood and started to draw his sword, then fell to the ground as the second man tackled him from behind. He struggled, but stopped when the first man held the point of his sword against his ribs. Your enemies won't stop, came the old woman's whisper in his mind, along with a ghostly prick of pain against his throat.

The second man dragged Tam out to the clearing, while the first one followed them, the sword he'd taken from Tam in his other hand.

"They told me you were dead!" the mage said, who looked angry.

Tam tried to wrench his sword-arm free, but the second man pulled it behind his back. He knew better than this! He never should have been caught so easily!

Aylar spoke from his hiding place. "Don't hurt my son!"

Of course! The mage must think he was Darin. A good thing he'd tied the strings on his hood, or they'd see how different his coloring was. His eyebrows were probably darker than usual from his fall into the dirt by the woodpile. Tam defiantly glared up at Tigran and shouted, "Leave my sister alone!"

"You idiot. Now you're going to lose everything. I gave you all a chance to behave sensibly, and you threw it away." Tigran's face went red. "I'm tired of being so generous. Tell me where the little boy is, and he won't get hurt. Keep him hidden and he'll die along with the rest of you."

"I don't think so," said Jarrett, who rose out of his blind with an arrow fitted to his bow. "The Guardian herself said Marysa was free of her ties to Lord Honnold. Your little game is over. Let us all go, or pay the price."

"You're bluffing," the wizard said, then motioned to his soldiers. "Take this overgrown brat to the window so the women will see, and kill him. Maybe they'll be reasonable once they know I'm not bluffing."

Tam twisted out of his captor's grip, butted him in the stomach with his head, and hoped the other one wouldn't move fast enough to stop him. The man who'd held him bent over gasping for air, while the other one howled with pain as an arrow with white fletching pierced his right shoulder. Tam ran for the woods, and then circled back when it appeared no one was after him. Now he was unarmed. He bent down and started making snowballs with the wettest snow he could without moving from cover. A pity he couldn't find any stones to put in the center, but there were enough lumps of ice to sting if he had to throw them.

"Very impressive," Tigran said, then yawned. "This has gone on long enough." He made a gesture, and the arrow in his henchman's shoulder disappeared. The other man stanched his comrade's wound.

"I am basically a kind man," the mage continued. "You will call the women and Lord Honnold's son out of the house now. If you don't move fast enough, I'll set the place on fire and they can come out on their own. Your choice."

"I'm not lying about the Guardian, mage," Jarrett said, then spat on the ground. "I have a letter with her seal on it."

Tam's head suddenly ached. Of course it hurt. He'd jammed it against the guard's ribs when he'd been going for the gut. The Guardian...he couldn't remember what she looked like, but knew she was kind...

Tigran frowned. "Then we must make sure she hears no tales. The good woman labors so diligently to maintain the proper relationship with the Earth spirit. It'd be wrong to bother her over such minor mundane matters." He began chanting a spell. The snow around his horse's hooves started melting.

He brought his arms around as if gathering energy to destroy the cabin. Tam threw his snowball directly at the wizard's head. Tigran coughed and sputtered. "Damn you, brat, I'll make sure you burn for half a day before I let you die!"

First you have to find me, Tam thought, as he circled to the left, more snowballs in the crook of his arm.

Jarrett fitted another arrow to his bow and said, "The first man who leaves this clearing falls with one of my arrows in him."

Tigran grimly turned back towards the cabin and raised his hands, while his henchmen glared at Jarrett. A fireball blazed in front of the wizard, which flew towards the small building.

It suddenly vanished. The mage opened his mouth to shout, but his face turned nearly purple as if something choked him.

Then he gasped for breath and became dead white as if all the blood had drained from him. His eyes went blank, and he spoke in a different voice. "Justice will be done," Tigran said, though he sounded more like an old woman.

Tam knew that voice! The woman with no face!

"Yes, justice will be done. This family will be allowed to live in peace. Lord Honnold has pledged his word on it. Anyone, and I mean anyone, who violates this compact will be called before a tribunal and punished. Even a mage. Those who help will be considered equally guilty."

The mage turned ashen gray and slumped in the saddle. The two ruffians who acted in his name climbed on their horses, one with some difficulty, and led the mage between on the path back to Bogatay. Jarrett kept his bow trained on them till they were gone. Tam was glad they'd left his sword behind on the ground.

As soon as they were gone, he went to the privy to see if the women were safe. Jarrett ran there first, and was embracing Marysa before Tam could stop him. From what he saw, she didn't want anybody else.

The family went into the cabin. Tam picked up the sword and sheathed it, though he’d have to dry and oil it soon. As he went inside, Dorena brought out food and drink out for everyone. The talk between Aylar, Jarrett and Marysa washed over Tam like an avalanche, even when the younger man complimented him on the well-thrown snowball. The bowman was clearly Jorry's father by his coloring, while Marysa fluttered near the fellow like a moth to a flame. Tam sat on a bench in a corner. There was no room at the small table for him.

Jarrett looked down at his plate and made a face. "Is this all you have?" he asked, apparently considering his portion too small.

Dorena frowned. "It hasn't been an easy year," she said. "We were hoping to make it through this winter without slaughtering any of the cows."

Tam knew that task would have been a lot easier without his own appetite. Then Jarrett pulled out a pouch that looked heavy. "I brought home lots of food in my saddlebags, but Aylar and I ate it all when we were trapped in the snow cave. But I have enough coins to make sure none of us go hungry till next fall harvest. So let's have all we can, and rejoice together!"

Dorena offered him sympathy when she brought him some bread, covered with preserved fruit. Tam shook his head. "She never looked at me the way she does at him," he said quietly. He gave up hope she ever would.

Jarrett boasted of humiliating both Honnold and his pet mage, and then showed everyone the paper with the Guardian's personal seal on it. "You should have seen how Honnold cowered before the truth when I accused him of his evil deeds," he bragged. "Even a boy like the Protector's son could see the sense of my case. He's got almost the same coloring as you do, lad. Your mother ever go to Kelemath during Midsummer Festival?"

Tam hated being grateful to this man almost more than anything else. He murmured something polite for Dorena's sake, and then left as soon as he'd eaten a few bites of the bread. Even with honey and sourfruit preserves on it, it sat on his stomach like a rock.

Jorry went with him and dashed around by the barn. The lad was no worse from his cramped stay in the privy except for the smell. "Is everything all right? What's going on, Da?"

Tam tried to smile for the boy's sake, even with Jarrett and Marysa together in the cabin. Then it hit him. "Your real father came home with your Papa, Jorry. You...you can't call me Da any more."

 

Chapter 9

 

Tam didn't think he could hurt any more than he already did. Then evening fell, and he had to watch Jarrett and Marysa gathering pillows and blankets to take with them so they could bed down in the barn. He supposed it could be worse. After all, Dorena could have sent him and Jorry out there instead.

Dorena whispered in Aylar's ear once the happy couple had gone, and the older man looked at him sympathetically. Once again, Tam refused the slice of bread with preserves on it. "Now, you haven't eaten much all day," she said.

"Leave the boy alone," Aylar said. "I'll take that myself if he doesn't want it. I've got to keep up my strength." He took the bread, and then kissed his wife's fingers to underline his meaning. Dorena colored and was drawn onto her husband's lap, as she laughed like a much younger woman.

Tam ignored their play as he got Jorry ready for bed. Fortunately the child was too sleepy to ask questions. He wished the older couple would hang a screen of blankets, though. Even with all the lamps out, their silhouettes were visible in the light of the dying fire.

Even with his head turned away, he felt uncomfortable trying to ignore the soft sounds across the room. He coughed loudly, and then wrapped a cloak around him to slip outside, ostensibly to visit the jakes. They deserved some privacy. This way he wasn't forced to imagine what he and Marysa should have been doing instead. Oh, if only he hadn't made such a fool of himself when he'd had the chance! Maybe she would have liked him better. It was too late now.

Being outside didn't help as much as he'd hoped. He went to the back of the barn and listened. It was dishonorable to snoop, but he couldn't help it. Their voices carried clearly through a knot in one of the crooked boards.

"What was I supposed to do, sit on my thumb? I'm sure you didn't wait all this time!" Marysa said. "I didn't know if you were alive or dead."

"Ah well, he's just a boy. I doubt you did much."

Tam cringed when he heard Jarrett say that.

"Man enough where it counts. You almost waited too long to come back. He was going to kill Tigran for my sake, which is more than you ever thought of. Tam's young, but anyone can see he's from a good family. He's probably some mage's Festival child who didn't get the powers. He can read and write! And he took good care of Jorry, too."

"Should I be jealous?" Jarrett asked.

"Not really. I played touch-me-not half the winter with the poor lad. I suppose I was still waiting for you. Why, I don't know!" Her voice held nothing of the anguish she'd expressed about Tigran's cruelty. Was she really that hurt by the mage, or only looking for a way to refuse me that would make me pity her? Tam wondered angrily.

"You know why we belong together," Jarrett said. "Now we can be that way forever. I looked for you all over Fiallyn Mor as soon as I had enough money to take care of you. I thought Honnold might have you hidden somewhere on his estate, but he swore you'd run off with your son--well, his son, he said. I didn't like the look in his mage's eye, and went to Lochil to get it settled for good. It took every coin I had to have a hearing with the Guardian, but it was worth it. The land is all ours now, and then some because of Honnold's crimes. The old house is still there and ready for everyone to move back in as soon as we can pack up."

"What was the hearing like? Is she as old as they say?"

"Never saw her face, but her voice sounded strong. I tell you what, I wasn't joking about that boy's mother going to Kelemath. He looks a lot like the Protector's son, who was there, too. The Guardian was letting him do most of the questioning, probably to see what he was made of. He had eyes like ice for one so young. The one in Lochil, that is. I've never seen such a cold little prick! Now, I know Tam isn't like that, or you wouldn't have given him a second look, or anything else."

"A bit of a kiss and a cuddle was as far as it went! You don't mind, do you?" she cooed in a tone that would make the Snowdemon forgive her anything. Tam only wished she'd spoken like that to him.

"Ah, I knew how it was the moment I saw his face, poor lad," Jarrett said. "Now, I would have been here sooner, but Honnold swore you were selling yourself on the streets of Kelemath rather than let him keep the child, even after he lost the case. I wish I'd had the old woman put his hand in the water then! So I went to the city to look, just in case. I'd given up searching for you there and was on my way to beat the truth from Honnold when I found your father in the hills. We were trapped in a snow cave for over a week!" Then Jarrett laughed. "I'm done with talking. Now, let me have a kiss from those sweet lips of yours..."

Neither one spoke of childbane. Tam knew it had been just an excuse to keep him and Marysa apart. He clenched his teeth with anger, especially after he leaned down and peered through the crack. Jarrett was caressing her bare breasts, while Marysa leaned back with eyes closed, and a dreamy look he'd never seen on her face before. Tam breathed faster seeing another man take what should have been his, then bit his lip in shame when he realized how much he enjoyed it. At Festival anything went, but it was wrong to behave so at other times.

He imagined how easily he could knock Jarrett's head in. Marysa wouldn't dare deny him then! Oh, Lord and Lady, why couldn't Marysa love him? His hands shook, aching to wield the sword he wished he'd brought.

Then he remembered the joy in her face when she'd run out the door. He couldn't hurt her, no matter how much he hated Jarrett. Tam turned around and walked away from the barn before he changed his mind. She didn't love him. She never would. He'd be as bad as Tigran if he forced her to do anything.

Strange, he thought as he headed back towards the cabin door. Jarrett's voice is so familiar. Where did I meet him before? Maybe there was someone in his family like the man, or perhaps just someone he knew in the life that he'd forgotten.

Tam stopped, and stood at the edge of the clearing. He couldn't go back inside the cabin just yet. He shied away from thinking about what Aylar and Dorena were probably doing. He stared up at the cloudy sky and let a few snowflakes settle on his face. In one of his dreams, he remembered watching it fall from a high window somewhere, overlooking a gray lake with an island near the shore.

Suddenly he felt as if he were several people at once. One Tam had gone into the barn and tried to kill Jarrett, while Marysa screamed in horror. Another was going back to the cabin, lying down next to Jorry, and trying to go to sleep. A different Tam was on his way to Bogatay, still plotting to destroy the mage. The last one...that Tam lay dead on the ground, where Tigran's men had left him.

Tam hung his head. He owed his life to his rival. Jarrett didn't know how he'd ruined things. But it didn't matter, because Marsya...Marysa did know, but he couldn't do anything to make her hate him, the way she hated the fire mage. Now his dream of sitting in a vaulted hall feasting with her would never come true.

The wind blew, as cold as ever. He looked up at the sky, blank with heavy clouds, and then rubbed the inside of one wrist. The small, pale scars there tingled with the ghost of pain. Perhaps he'd been someone's prisoner and had managed to escape. Why did freedom hurt so much?

He thought he'd found a haven here, but it was only temporary. Tam trudged back to the cabin, driven inside more by the icy rain beginning to fall than by any desire to join the people he once thought of as his family. Where else did he have to go?

When they left...what would happen to him then?

Aylar sat wrapped in his cloak at the small table by the hearth. Two cups and a bottle sat on it, as well as a single precious candle. Tam remembered they didn't have to worry about being poor any more. Jarrett had rescued them by his courage in facing the Guardian and the Protector's son, without any help from him.

"Sit down, Tam," said Dorena's husband. "You look like you could use a friend. My wife told me everything. Why, she even wanted me to charge out there and keep you from taking on more than you could handle. I think she'd send Jarrett off with his ears ringing if it weren't for the land."

Tam felt numb, but sat down. "She's been very kind and generous to me. I must also thank you, sir, for rescuing me. It must have been difficult for you." The courteous phrases fell from his lips as if he'd practiced them. Nobody here was interested in how he really felt.

"You looked a bit young to be a runaway bandit. I tried to catch your horse, but it was too fast for me. To be honest, I thought you were dead. I just wanted to keep your body from the wolves," Aylar said. "You've certainly improved!" He poured dark ale into the cups. "I can help you find your family now. Under the circumstances, you'll be better off with them."

The ale tasted strong, but it might as well be water as far as Tam was concerned. "I can't remember anything about them," he said. He hadn't really wanted to till now. Was the fierce old woman who fought against him in his dreams part of his true past?

"I suppose that lump on your head is reason enough to forget," Aylar said, and then lowered his voice. "You can tell me, lad. I don't care about mages' feuds. If you're in the middle of one, I need to know so I can help."

Or turn me over to the winning side, he thought sourly. Where had that idea come from? Aylar had saved his life. "I'm not lying! I really don't remember!" Tam protested. He felt the scar behind his left ear. It wasn't sore any more, and his last bad headache had been a month ago. But Aylar had a point. He hadn't cared about his past along as Marysa had smiled on him. Yet he knew now that the clothes and the sword he'd found in the chest were really his. "What is going to happen to me?" he whispered.

"Depends on you," Aylar replied. "We can't have you with us, but you've done a lot around here. A hard-working lad could make something of this place. I'd be happy to help once my own affairs are sorted out. We're richer now than we ever were before, what with the extra land from Honnold. If you don't feel ready to be on your own yet, you could scribe for old Mikal, the man in Lochil who buys my furs. His eyes are going dim, and since you kept up my records so well, you could do the same for him."

"If you went to Lochil, why didn't you try to see the Guardian yourself?"

"Ask a mage to rule against another, in favor of people like us?" Aylar laughed harshly. "Jarrett gambled everything he had just to get a hearing in the first place. Or so he says. He was lucky the Protector's son listened. They say the boy isn't a mage yet, which means he might be young enough to believe that even commoners deserve justice. Jarrett complained how the lad scolded him, but it's not half of what I've told him myself. And it was me that handed my daughter to that bastard Honnold in the first place. I should have tried." He drank deeply. "The Lord and Lady forgive me, I should have tried..."

Tam didn't know what to think. Aylar had rescued him. He would have died after his fall. It wasn't right for him to reproach the older man. He let his head drop as the ale finally made him sleepy. Maybe he ought to drink deeply, too.

Aylar tapped him on the hand. "Now pay attention. I'm trying to help you here."

"Yes, sir, I know," Tam said softly, and straightened up. Why did everything have to hurt so much? Why couldn't they leave him alone for tonight?

The older man's expression changed. "Lord and Lady, here you are drowning in pain and all I can do is babble about Jarrett. Drink up. We'll have time to work something out tomorrow."

Tam's control broke. "I love her! I love her so much! And she loves him." He buried his face in his arms and sobbed. "I know I can't ask you to starve for my sake..."

Dorena's husband laid a hand on his shoulder. "You're young to have to face this, but anyone brave enough to risk going after Tigran with nothing but a sword he doesn't know how to use is a grown man by my reckoning."

Tam nodded in agreement, though something inside resented Aylar's words. Then again, after the sorry show he'd made today, maybe it was just as well he hadn’t faced with the mage.

"Drink up," Aylar said, and filled both cups. "It's the only comfort I can give you. I'm strong and could bear this life. I think Marysa could, too. But Jorry's not growing as fast as he ought to. He needs a warm house and a full belly every day. I lost Darin out here, and my grandson might go as well. And Dorena..." The older man's eyes were full of sorrow. "I swore to take care of her, not watch her die from grief and hardship. I'm just glad this happened while she was still alive to enjoy it. Oh, Tam, I'm sorry it has to be like this."

Tam wiped the tears that flowed down his face, and let the warmth of the ale in his belly ease the tight knot inside. He finished the cup, and accepted more gratefully. Aylar helped him into bed next to Jorry. If only I can remember where I came from, he thought before falling asleep. It can't be any worse than this.

He felt dizzy when he woke up the next morning, his bladder nearly bursting from the night before. Tam dressed, found relief in the privy, and fetched wood from the rick. He made as much noise as he possibly could near the barn. It was petty revenge, but it was all he could come up with. Then he thought of what Jarrett and Marysa would likely do as soon as they awoke.

Tam looked out into the falling snow. If he packed up now and left, who would know? Who would care? He was only in the way.

Then he saw movement in the trees near the cabin. Were Tigran's men out there again, seeking revenge for yesterday? He checked the area around the barn for tracks. His own careless steps had destroyed any sign, save for one large paw-print he recognized. The happy couple inside could fend for themselves, but the horses and cows deserved protection.

"Tam!" Dorena cried. "Where are you?"

She stood at the cabin door and peered into the woods. "There you are!" she cried, as he returned from around back. "Don't run off like that so early. It's almost breakfast time. Bring in a bit more kindling and come eat."

Tam gave her a hug once he set the wood near the hearth. The old woman was like a mother to him even now.

His happiness faded when he saw Marysa and Jarrett in the cabin, acting as if they ruled the place. He tried to remember his manners as he ate, but didn't succeed. The nutmeal cakes and syrup tasted like wood chips, though he usually loved them. Eating made him feel worse, not better. Every sound had a sharp edge to it and his head hurt, though no new memories had come. Tam wiped sweat from his forehead and pretended he was fine. He wasn't going to let the loving pair sitting next to him have the satisfaction of seeing him sick.

The wind died down and the sun came out a little. Tam gathered the cattle and led them off to pasture. Jarrett followed him. For a moment, Tam wished he'd brought his sword. I'm probably better off without the temptation, he thought.

The other man persisted in being friendly as Tam ignored everything Jarrett said. Though he would rather march the cows all the way to Lochil, Tam chose a clearing near the cabin. His stomach was twisting inside, and he didn't want to walk far. The more Jarrett talked, the worse he felt. Tam suddenly ran behind a tree and vomited.

"Too much ale last night?" Jarrett asked.

"I didn't feel so bad this morning, just a little dizzy," Tam said as he wiped his mouth with fresh snow. He couldn't look the other man in the face. What a fool he'd been!

"Reminds me of one time I sat up drinking with the other caravan guards on the way to Warding," Jarrett said. "The hangover didn't hit me till a couple of hours past noon!"

Tam glanced carefully at the man, and saw only sympathy. That was almost worse than being laughed at. "I never drank that much before," he said softly.

Jarrett bowed his head. "I wanted to be a hero to her, too. I should have gone after that whoreson mage myself, but I thought this way was better."

The truth gripped his belly worse than last night's drink. "You were probably right," Tam said, forcing the words out. "You saved my life yesterday. I ought to thank you."

The other man laughed harshly. "No wonder you couldn't hold your breakfast down with that comforting thought inside!" He held up a flask. "Take a sip from this, lad. It'll settle your stomach. And once you feel up to it, eat some of the food Dorena sent with you. An empty belly is a terrible thing at your age."

Tam still hated him, but it was worth trying. He drank some of the fiery brew in the bottle, gagged it back when it threatened to make him spew again, and leaned against a tree as the medicine did its work. Once he stopped sweating he did feel better, and ate part of the bread Dorena had packed for later.

"I can see how all this looks to you," Jarrett said sympathetically. "It must be rough not to know where you're from, and even worse, not know where you're going. I know what it's like to be alone in the world. Cheer up, it's not that bad."

"I'll get by," Tam said. "You don't need to worry." He didn't need anyone's pity, let alone this man's!

Jarrett leaned against a tree, and smiled as he threw his small dagger into a snow-covered stump near his feet. "I know just how you feel. I would have been my cousin's acknowledged heir years ago, if I'd been willing to kiss my hand to him the way he wanted me to. And he would likely have let me marry Marysa in the first place to save him the trouble of a woman in his bed. Don't let pride send you on my road! Aylar means to do right by you, but this cabin's too dark with no one in it, and you don't have a family to make a match for you. I hate to think of you up here brooding over might-have-beens, when you should be getting on with your life."

Tam nodded. "Aylar said something about me scribing for the old man that buys his furs in Lochil."

Jarrett continued. "That's no life for you! Pent up in a room all day, with only a lamp for company? You'd run off in a month. Besides, Tigran goes there sometimes. If he saw you in the streets, who knows what he might do if he thought he wouldn't get caught?

"Now, these last few years I was a guard for a merchant in Warding who trades shimmercloth for wine and moonsalt. I was good friends with his chief steward. Both of them are getting on, and have no sons. The merchant's saving his eldest daughter for a mage, and she'll probably get one with her looks. I love Marysa, but I'm not blind, either! But he's got two others to marry off, and with what he's spending on the first one, he won't have as much as Aylar does now to dower them with. They're both a bit young, but so are you. Anyone brave enough to think about killing a mage, and bright enough to cipher as well as Aylar says you do shouldn't have trouble making a place for himself."

"He hurt her, Jarrett. I had to do something," Tam said. "I still wish I had."

"Well, can I be grateful you wanted to try without you snapping my head off?" his rival asked, in a voice beginning to lose patience.

Tam bowed his head and sighed. "You don't have to thank me. I didn't do anything but get in the way yesterday."

"If Marysa had stood by your side instead of running to me, I probably wouldn't be happy either," Jarrett said. "But when we're all packed up, I can send you to the steward with a message from me. You'd make him a good apprentice. And you should beg lessons in swordplay from the watch-captain of the Warding guard station, too. No point in having such a fine weapon without knowing how to use it."

"Isn't Warding pretty far from here?" He knew the town was nearly on the western border of this land. "This is so stupid! Why can I remember that, and not my own family?"

The other man's face grew sober. "I wish it was on the other side of Wizardwall. You're too damned handsome for my peace of mind. If Dorena hadn't been so watchful, I don't know how fast Marysa would have come to me, no matter what she says now. And Midsummer's only a few months away. I'd rather you weren't anywhere this side of Fiallyn Mor. Nothing personal, lad, but I want her to myself for at least a year.

"But there's a bright side to it. Those two darlings in Warding will likely be chasing you before the first month is over. Why, one day you could be chief steward or chief guard in Alber's place and kin to a noble line on top of it, if the merchant finds a silk-robe lord for his eldest daughter."

Tam bit his lip. He still loved Marysa! He always would! He ought to be insulted that Jarrett expected him to be so easily distracted. Of course, if he couldn't be with his beloved, the prospect the other man held out looked attractive. To learn how to use his sword the way it ought to be, to be trusted as a guardian by those in need, and to have a family that was really his and not on loan...he shook his head briskly and dismissed those longings as disloyal to his true love. He hadn't even thought about Midsummer. No law or other bond kept true lovers apart. Even Jarrett thought it was possible that Marysa might welcome him that night.

Where else could he go, though? The other man was right about Tigran. The mage might not strike back against Aylar or his family, with the Guardian's letter to protect them, but Tam would be on his own. He shivered at Tigran's threat to burn him.

Something else bothered him. "Why did it take so long for you to come back for her?" Tam asked. "Aylar's books make it look like you've been gone for years. Marysa talked about you, but I thought you didn't care. She cried when she said how you left. Jorry still has bad dreams at night because of what Honnold did. Where were you then? I'm wearing Darin's clothes because he died up here. Did Marysa show you the scar that Tigran gave her because she refused to be a whore for him?" Tam was surprised his voice got so loud. He turned away and looked out into the falling snow. "It doesn't matter. You're the hero.” Then he stared at his rival again.

"Lord and Lady," Jarrett said hoarsely. He brushed snow off a stump, sat down on it, and pulled his dagger out. Tam began inching away. "I never meant to be gone so long or thought Honnold would hurt her. She's so beautiful! How could anyone ever harm her, or her family?

"Then again, my cousin's never liked women. You have no idea of what she went through with him before I came along. All I wanted to do was to bring her some happiness. I...oh, calm down, lad, if anything I'd use this dagger on myself before I went after you."

Tam relaxed a little, but stayed near a tree he could duck behind if he needed to.

His rival began talking again after a couple of moments. "It's hard to explain why I was gone so long. I wanted to bring back treasure for her, and to show my cousin that I wasn't a thief. I meant to make all of us rich. I found some strange pathways, and I hope you never try some of them." Then Jarrett glanced around searchingly. "I've been outside the Wall," he said, his voice so low it was almost a whisper. "I'm not supposed to be able to talk about it, but when the mage in charge laid a spell of silence on us, I was too drunk for it to work. See, lad, I'm trusting you a lot here. Swear you won't tell anyone who told you this!"

"Of course," Tam said, though he resisted the temptation to come closer. Jarrett might still be angry with him for his reproaches.

"We guarded a train of wagons full of shimmercloth and other mage-goods that left from Warding. The Western Guardian opened the Wall at the road near the river to let us through, and then closed it again. I heard one of the guards that didn’t come with us tried to leave on his own through the Anchor Pool, but nobody knew if he made it or just drowned."

"Why do they take ordinary people with them?" Tam asked. He was too curious to be afraid now.

"Someone's got to tend the horses. Anyway, we traveled for half-dozen days or so down river into strange country. One of the mages watched us all the time, and made sure none of us ran off."

"What's it like out there?"

"The land is lower and wetter than here, but not much different otherwise. There's a swamp just north of Kelemath where part of the magic from the Old War is left over, and it’s stranger than anything on the other side of the Wall. Once we were Outside and near a town, the three mages with us traded for moonsalt, wine, and seeds. The other guards mostly stood around, but I took part of my pay in trade goods and made some deals on my own. Since the mages got their cut, they didn't care. You wouldn't believe the way people talk Outside. They sound like frogs strangling in a pond. I picked up a few words, though, and managed to get along. But those wizards would come and get me to this day if they knew what else I found out."

"Tell me! I swear I'll never betray you!"

The older man took a deep breath and went on in a low murmur. "Mages don't rule out there. There's only maybe one per town in the larger places. A city the size of Kelemath might have only four or five. I thought for sure the man was lying when I figured it out. There's even a place called Ramius where they drive anyone with magic powers out. I nearly deserted right then, but I remembered Marysa. But if you don't like it in Warding, you should work as a guard on a caravan Outside like I did."

Tam didn't like the drift of this conversation. "Still trying to get rid of me?"

Jarrett sighed. "Not really. If they suspect you wanted to kill another mage, though, no matter how much he deserved it, you're dead. Those poor bandits up in the hills think they can make a difference, but I know better. I've seen too many like you breaking their hearts and losing their lives trying to change things. Some of them still believe the Lost King will come again, the idiots!" His voice held sorrow as well as anger.

Did you believe it, too? Tam wondered. His head ached, and not just from the ale he'd drunk the night before. Why did the small dragon tattooed on the other man's wrist bother him? He suddenly remembered a body wearing a cloak, which had a leather patch on it the shape of a dragon. And yesterday, when Tigran's men had come...Jarrett's arrows had white fletching. That meant something, too. "The Lost King..." he murmured, not sure where the words came from. "It won't do them any good until the Dragon sits on the Empty Throne. Only it's not really empty..."

Jarrett held out two fingers and spat between them. "I don't know where you learned that, boy, and I don't want to. Some matters are too deep for anyone who wants to live in this land. If you know that much, then you know how useless rebellion really is. Considering what you were planning against Tigran and how you helped us yesterday, you're just to sort to end up starving in a cave somewhere and thinking yourself a hero. You'll be nothing but meat for the Protector's patrols."

Tam had been hungry enough already to want to avoid that fate. "I'd do anything for Marysa," he said. "But I'm glad I don't have to." He still wished he’d found a way to kill Tigran, though. Then he noticed the cows were huddling together with their horns turned out. He saw movement beyond them, but was it the wind, or the white shadow of a winter wolf behind a tree?

Then they struck. Lean furred shapes leaped out and attacked the cattle. Jarrett beat at one of them with his stick, as did Tam, but there were too many of them. "Go back for help!" the other man cried. "Bring me my bow and arrows, they're in the barn!" The cows lowered their horns and bawled.

Tam hesitated for a moment, and then ran for the house, shouting the alarm as he ran. He dashed inside the cabin for a better weapon, while Aylar burst out, waving a long blade tied to a pole, to save the last of his once-large herd. Marysa ran toward the barn and ran out with her lover’s bow and arrows. Tam went straight for the belt he'd hung up this morning and grasped the hilt of the sword. His sword.

He flung himself towards the field of battle. The weapon felt right in his hands as nothing had since Jarrett arrived. He must not be too late. Marysa would be hurt if his rival died, no matter who the land belonged to. He saw her face, white with fear, as she ran back to the cabin.

A large, light gray wolf brought down one of the cows. Blood spilled scarlet on the white ground from the poor beast's throat. The wolf snarled and turned to fight when Jarrett slashed at it with his small dagger, and then reached for the bow. Tam struck before its teeth could tear the other man. Other wolves gathered. Then he was too busy to see what Jarrett and Aylar did.

Tam leaped and whirled, his blade forming a steel shield against tooth and claw. He fought with fierce joy. At last his muscles remembered what they were supposed to do! All the rage he dare not let loose on Jarrett, yes, and Marysa, too, flared at the glorious target of the wolves. He laughed in sheer delight, now he fought back against something he was allowed to strike.

Once he wasn't quick enough. Pain ripped through his lower left leg. Tam hacked the wolf down before it could attack him again. The rest of the pack seemed to move in slow motion, giving him time to slice and thrust before they had a chance to avenge their comrades.

His arms became tired, as if he'd chopped two days' worth of wood, yet he dare not let down his guard. More kept coming. He nearly slipped on one wolf's body. Aylar reached out from behind and hauled him back up, then stopped one predator with his makeshift spear.

Tam caught his breath for one brief moment, and then fought against a pair of great white beasts that attacked him at the same time. One fell with an arrow in its throat, while Tam barely raised his sword in time to block the leap of the other. He cursed as his blade caught on the ribs of one of the beasts, and had to be pulled loose.

The limp, furry corpses at his feet grew in number. At last they stopped coming. Tam leaned against a tree panting with exhaustion. He'd never been so tired in his life, not even when facing that bandit last spring. That hadn't lasted long anyway, one thrust into that big man with rotting teeth and foul breath, and the fellow had fallen...

Then it was gone. At least my head doesn't hurt from this memory, he thought absently. And he'd already done his throwing up for the day. It felt a little strange to be here, rather than somewhere else. Where did he belong? For a brief moment he wasn't sure who the other two men were.

He felt like a fool. Of course it was Aylar, who'd rescued him in the woods. And Jarrett. How could he forget Jarrett?

The older man led the surviving cattle back towards the barn. Jarrett came up to him, went down on one knee, and lay down his bow in respect. His voice shook. "I've never seen such swordplay in all the years I've been a soldier, lad. And here I thought you wore it just for show...Lord and Lady, you're more of a protector than the one who sits in Kelemath!"

At that word his memory came back. Tameron dayn Sidian a' Piran remembered it all; who he was, where he'd been, and the bitter shame that came with the healed scars on his wrists. Protector. Oh, yes, he knew that word. "No," he whispered. "I wish you hadn't said that."

He turned away and stumbled into the forest, though his leg nearly buckled under him. He had to go away as far as he could. He couldn't lie to them now that he knew the truth. Better to let them remember him as just Tam. Then he slipped and fell, his face in the snow. He tried to pick himself up, though he felt numb and weak. He had to go home, though little waited for him there. Maybe I can still go to Warding instead.

"Tam." His rival helped him up. "Why are you trying to run? Is the Protector or one of his soldiers looking for you? I know ways of helping you get away if that's true."

"Yes. They are looking for me." His own voice sounded distant. "I fell from my horse while riding. I'm that cold prick the Protector's son you saw in Lochil. I remember it now. I remember everything."

Including why he'd left, and why he must go back. Now he knew where he belonged--trapped behind the steel of his armor and the ice of his face, the face they'd trained him so carefully to wear. Trapped in a life where he was only a voice and shadow, with no powers and where guards sold him to the highest bidder. "I remember everything," he repeated softly. "Lord and Lady, I wish I didn't."

 

Chapter 10

 

Tameron nearly fell again. The other man put his shoulder underneath Tam's arm. "I don't believe it," Jarrett said. "Now, look, I don't blame you for wanting to claim such high birth, but let's not get ridiculous. You must have overheard me talking about the boy last night. That wall's too damn easy to listen through."

"I remember you, too," Tam said tonelessly, as they both limped along towards the cabin. "Why did you lie? I gave the land to Marysalian and her parents, not to you. It was up to her to make the choice." A good thing the wolves were dead, with the trail of blood he was leaving on the snow behind them.

"How did you know that?" Jarrett said, and stopped. "Wait, if you're really him, what were you wearing?"

"Some blue thing that weighed a ton. I spent most of the time standing because the beads dug into my legs every time I sat down..." Tameron said. Now he had to go back to being on display. "I had to do something! I didn't know if Honnold had killed them all, or what. But I didn't give it to you!"

Jarrett began walking again, still letting Tam lean on him. "She made her choice when she ran down that road to me instead of staying by your side. I love her, too!"

"I know. Honnold wanted the land, but you only wanted her. Nobody wants me, but I have to go home anyway. It's my duty." Duty. Was there anything else? No. Not unless he could heal up fast enough and ride to Warding as just plain Tam.

"Lord Tameron, do you mean to assert your rank?" His rival sounded frightened now.

"Don't call me that!" He began to shiver, like that dreadful night in his room in Kelemath, only a few short months ago. "I swore to keep silent about what you told me. I meant it. I'm not like them. I don't have any magic. All I'm good at is killing." Was there really a land where it didn't matter whether he had the powers of his family or not?

"I doubt Marysa would agree with that! I was almost jealous after the way she talked about you last night."

Tameron finally realized what Jarrett was really worried about. "If Marysa really loved me, I'd do anything to keep her. But she doesn't..." That still hurt most of all.

"Just a few more steps now. You're the hero today, lad, you might as well make the most of it."

"Don't tell them!" Tameron said. "Not yet! I'll let Aylar know tonight." He still had a chance to choose for himself.

"You don't seem that happy about it, I must admit," Jarrett said. "And here we are."

Tam saw the cabin clearly now, a pitiful bundle of logs and boards compared to what he was used to. Randor wouldn't use this shack to store wood in, he thought, but I'm going to miss it. For all its small size and ugliness, it had been his home.

His left leg finally refused to hold at all. He pitched forward at the threshold even with Jarrett at his side.

"Aylar! Come help!" Jarrett shouted. Aylar rushed out and the two men carried him the rest of the way to one of the beds, where Dorena pulled up his trouser leg and began cleaning the claw-marks with a basin of water and some rags.

Tam let tears run down his face, though the slashes really didn't hurt that much when the older woman rinsed the wounds with ale. He ought to be stronger. Once he was home, he'd have to learn how to put on the face of 'that cold prick the Protector's son' again.

When Jarrett and Aylar started to go out the door to salvage the carcasses of the dead cows, and the skins of the wolves, Dorena stood straight up. Her eyes looked strange, like Tigran's when he'd been stopped from burning them all. Now they were light gray, not dark brown. "I knew there was more to this!" she said, but with the Guardian's voice.

Tameron tried to sit up, a move he instantly regretted. No! he thought to himself. Won't I have a chance to decide anything for myself?

Everyone stared at Dorena. She began speaking, just like when the Guardian had taken over the mage's body and voice. "I see that I have found two treasures in one box with this family," she said. "Marysalian, are you content with the judgment handed down to you? Remember, the land was given to you and your parents, as well as to your choice of partners. The guilty will be punished, but not by your hands. Such things are not for you, nor your kin. Be content."

Marysa bowed respectfully to her mother. "I hear and obey, merciful lady." She gave Jarrett a look that boded ill for the future, but softened it with a smile when her lover spread out his hands in a silent plea for forgiveness.

'Dorena' stared down at Tam. "Seeing through the eyes of others often brings unexpected insight. Lord Tameron, your father has been looking for you for months. You shall be brought home as soon as possible."

The old woman's eyes shifted back to brown for a moment. "Not till he's recovered, he won't! That leg of his won't heal up in a day. Look at all this blood!"

Tam smiled. Dorena cared so much for him that she'd argue with the Guardian herself over his welfare.

'Dorena' changed again. "Never fear. The mage who will take him back to Lochil must first ride out there, since he cannot use his powers to go where he has never been. The weather is foul here, too. We'll have to wait a week before we can send this other mage out to Bogatay, and it will likely be a day more for him to find your place. The Protector's son won't suffer any pain or weariness on the journey back. We will care for him, too."

Tam shook his head. That was a lie. No, that's not fair, he chided himself. The Guardian helped me more than anyone in Kelemath ever did. Even if my father's there she'll find a way.

Dorena nodded briskly, as if agreeing with the intruder. Then her eyes went blank, and she fell as the Guardian left. Aylar barely caught his wife before she landed on top of Tameron in the bed. The older man laid her down on the other cot and stared down at both of them. "I hope you're worth all this!" he snapped.

Tameron said, "I'm sorry, I know the Guardian didn't mean to hurt her."

Aylar's eyes turned bleak. "Now do you understand why I didn't go talk to the Lady when I was in Lochil?"

"Oh, don't take on so," Dorena said weakly, opening her eyes. "I'm just tired. And who wouldn't be, with all this excitement? Really, Aylar, I told you he was from good family..."

"Just rest, love, just rest. Marysa can manage supper, and Lord Tameron's leg has stopped bleeding."

"I think I will..." Dorena closed her eyes again.

This is just like a story where some boy discovers he's really the lost heir to a rich kingdom, he thought. Only I wish I could give it all up. He tried to seem grateful when Jarrett congratulated him on his good fortune. It wasn't right to ask for help to escape from anybody here now. If anything went wrong, they would suffer his father's wrath. A poor return for all they've given me, he realized. Even Jarrett.

Besides, it would take all the time the Guardian was going to give him and then some for his leg to heal. Leaving here with it still injured was slow death in this weather, and he knew now that he wanted to live.

For the next few days he rested, ate well from stores that no longer had to last till spring, and watched Dorena care for his wounds. She'd obviously recovered completely from the Guardian's brief possession of her body, though Aylar hovered over her till she threw him out of the place to muck out the barn or help Jarrett with the surviving cows.

Tameron winced as the ale she used to wash out the claw-marks stung, but noticed they only became a little red. That was something he could manage for himself once back in Lochil, or even in Kelemath. Stine had warned all the guards against wound-rot when out in the field away from any healer mages, and Tam knew he might be risking that no matter where he was. As it turned out, the slashes weren't as deep as he first believed. Of course, he'd have the scars forever but he could be proud of these. Maybe I'm not a coward after all.

By the end of the week he limped around the cabin and helped everyone pack what they would need from here for the big house awaiting them. One day Jarrett and Aylar left early, escorting Dorena to their original manor with a wagon-load of goods. Fortunately Honnold kept to his agreement, and had even had his men deliver one of his carts for their use. They planned to return by evening. Tameron supposed they expected him to behave himself around Marysa, especially with Jorry staying behind to be a chaperone.

Marysa wouldn't meet his eyes, though, when he tried to tease her about how inconvenient some men might find this situation. Tam still saw her as beautiful, even though her looks were coarser than those of the ladies at court. He loved all of her, not just her face or body--though he was still quite fond of both! Then he realized she probably thought he meant it seriously. "Oh, Marysa, I'm not going to bite," he said, rather than let the long silences drag on. "I'm sorry I caused you so much trouble. I didn't mean that much to you anyway."

"More than you think," she said softly, and smiled at him. "I didn't know you came from such a distinguished family. Jorry can always go play in the barn for a little while."

Tameron felt something false in her offer. "The choice is yours," he said angrily. "Don't throw yourself at me just because I'm the Protector's son." His voice cracked a little. "You love him. It'd poison the little we did have if--if I took what isn't there."

Marysa smiled again, only this time it looked like she meant it. "You're not just Tam now. How was I to know what you were really like? Don't worry, sweet. You deserve someone who'll run to you the way I ran to Jarrett, some girl who'll give you her whole heart and not just a piece of it." She ruffled his hair, as she might for a younger brother.

He turned away, wishing she were right. "I'd like to," he said softly. "But my father will pick someone out for me to keep the Council happy. She'll only despise me for not having magic." He hated how childish he sounded, but it was the truth.

"Don't slander the poor thing before she even has a chance!" Marysa said. "Besides, with your looks and riches, you shouldn't have any problems finding someone kinder for your bed if she does prove sour."

"If you were there, I'd find it very hard indeed!" he said. He loved seeing her laugh.

The rest of the afternoon went easier. By the time everyone else returned, he and Marysa were friends. Oh, losing her still hurt. Tam knew he'd miss her for as long as he lived. But most of the anger and hatred were gone, if only for today. Oh, how he hoped Marysa was telling the truth! If he was going to have the responsibilities of a mage and accept whoever the Council chose for him, he'd eventually be allowed to find a life partner of his own, someone who really loved him.

In two more days, the cabin looked desolate. Jarrett had just returned from taking the last load to the big house that morning, and it was well after mid-day now. "Well, it's time, Lord Tameron," he said. "On my way back I saw riders with the Protector's banner. They were taking their time, but they should be here soon. Just as well they’re coming, or we might have to leave you behind." The other man's voice sounded like he was joking, but his eyes were deadly serious.

Tameron ducked into the barn and changed into his real clothes and boots. The splendid garments were looser in most places, except for his shoulders, but were too short for his legs and arms. The boots pinched his feet, and he wished he dared to keep Aylar's old ones instead. What else had he outgrown?

He folded the ones he'd borrowed respectfully. Darin must have been meant to be quite tall, if he'd been able to wear these clothes last year before his death. I never knew you, Darin, but I offer my thanks, he thought. Soon your death-doll will go back to the home you once knew. Don't be angry with me because I lived and you died. I might have been your sister's husband. Tameron imagined the look on his father's face if he'd returned with Marysa, and nearly laughed.

He gave the spare clothing to Dorena, but had a few other things to share out before saying farewell. Everyone gathered outside near the front door of the cabin. Fortunately the sky was clear and the sun shone brightly. He hardly felt the cold. Tameron gave the one good platter he'd managed to finish to Dorena. "May you find it useful, though you probably have a dozen better ones in your old home," he said ruefully.

The old woman embraced him. "It'll be at my place every feast-day, from spring to winter. Give your kinfolk my best. I wish I was sure they were going to take good care of you. Don't forget to wrap up warmly and rinse that leg with ale every night till it's properly healed."

Tameron smiled, but couldn't speak. He'd miss her more than he could say. Randor did his best, but it just wasn't the same. Dorena wiped her own eyes and drew back.

Marysa stepped forward, planted a quick kiss on his cheek, and thrust a small bag into his hands. "I hope you find this handy, and soon!" she whispered with a smile on her face. “Remember, men can take it too, but it has to be every day. Steep till the tea is bright green, and then swallow it down, though it takes awful.”

He took a peek, and it was full of dried herbs. Marysa winked at him. It must be childbane, he thought. His face went hot as he tried to remember what Dorena had told him about it. Marysa had certainly guessed the only present he wanted to give her! He glanced at the barn, only to notice that she was looking in that direction, too. Jarrett wore a carefully blank look on his face, but his eyes blazed with anger. Marysa will make him feel better, Tam thought.

He kept own his face bland. Then he bent down and presented his best carving to Jorry. He was glad that Aylar hadn't thrown the small piece of rockwood he'd found into the hearth long ago. He'd begun this work at Midwinter and had finished it just yesterday. "I hope you remember me, if only for a little while," Tameron said to the boy, who was enthralled with the tiny dragon despite its flaws. "Careful with the wings, they're a bit thin." They'd both enjoyed the story of the Littlest Dragon whenever Marysa had told it.

He glanced over at the dragon tattoo on Jarrett's wrist. He owed the man far too much to tell Stine everything when he got back. If Jarrett had been a bandit in his wanderings, he'd also had the good sense to come down from the hills and warn an impetuous boy about following the same dangerous path.

Tameron bowed his head towards Jarrett, who looked startled. "Jarrett, I have to thank you for your help when the wolves attacked, as well as for saving my life when Tigran's men were here. Perhaps--perhaps I'll be in Warding someday, and think about what you said. For that I also thank you." It was a comfort to know he had a way out besides the edge of his blade if he ever felt as desperate as he had last fall.

His rival looked nervous. "I can't think of any reason you'd need to know about it, but who am I to tell such a noble one what is right or not?"

"You're the one who went to the Guardian for Marysa's sake," Tam said. "Tell me anything you like! Besides, how do you think my family would feel about one of their own who'd dare to strike a fellow mage? Kin-privilege only goes so far."

Jarrett relaxed. Tameron then turned to Aylar. "You saved my life, sir, and offered me comfort when I had none. I want to prove to you that some mages can be trusted. Maybe the people around the Guardian like money too well, but I doubt they'll be there long once she knows about it. She only cares about justice! And if I ever get powers like that, I won't forget what it was like without them. I won't!"

"Come look at these wolf hides I took from those you killed," Aylar said, and they walked around behind the barn away from the others. "I'll send them to Kelemath when they're ready. You earned them. You'll carry the marks of their claws for the rest of your life from protecting my stringy old cows. I daresay you'll get more scars fighting off different wolves once you get home. If you never do have magic, let me know. I'll find you something better for you than to be pawned off on someone who wants you for influence or a hostage."

"I'm too old to start getting any powers," Tam said unhappily. "Father said I was to be Protector after him anyway, but I don't know how I'll be able to do it. I don't even know if he's telling me the truth about it sometimes."

"Then become Protector! Do the best you can, and make the ones who doubt you eat their words! You can be a bridge between the silk robes and the rest of us. You probably know what it's like to be less than the dust beneath their feet already, which is more than I can say about any wizard I've ever met! You can show them that we're not any less human because we do more with our lives than chant spells. Remember the song that Marysa said she sang about the Wall. No mage is ever to hear it."

"'I'll build a bridge, wide enough for two...'" Tameron smiled ruefully as he remembered the line. "A bridge is made of stone. I'm not. They only see what I don't have."

"Then make that bridge wide enough for two, like it says in the song. You've certainly shown talent for that already. You've got my blessing, for what it's worth. Don't waste it doing anything stupid. Save running to Warding for when your life's at stake, nothing less. Face up to them!"

Tam hoped Aylar had never seen the scars on the inside of his wrists, or didn't know what they meant. "Yes, sir," he said. He knew Marysa's father was right. It was up to him to make things right, even when nobody else cared. Maybe he could be a real Protector, and not just a figurehead keeping the chair warm.

Six soldiers and a mage in a brown, fur-trimmed robe rode into the clearing by the cabin. Their banner showed a bright blue star on a field of white, the sign that they represented the Protector himself.

The cloaked figure got down from the horse and threw his hood back. He was a tall young man with reddish-blond hair and freckles. "I am Mauric, sent here to take the Protector's son back to Lochil."

Tameron remembered the fellow sitting next to Lady Kiliane during that last disastrous Council session. "Thank you for coming," he said as he stepped forward. He meant it now.

The mage bowed, and said, "Will you please allow me to lift you, my lord? If you have gained or lost much weight, someone will need to shift some of the rocks back inside the Guardian's stronghold. The rest of you, please stay back. You might be hurt if you stand too close once we leave."

That made sense. He knew that mages who 'jumped' like this, especially with a passenger, did so with a counterweight left behind for themselves and whatever they took with them. This way the Giant would think that nothing had really changed and allow the trip. If the balance was wrong, then the Earth Spirit often took a terrible revenge on those who would disturb Him so. No matter how carefully the calculations were done, it was still a good idea for others to back off.

Tameron felt himself rising in the air, but only an inch off the ground. No doubt that was all Mauric needed to judge his current weight. The mage's face turned pale and sweat appeared on his brow despite the chill in the air. "Your shields are formidable, lord prince," he said.

Mauric must be from Outside to use a strange foreign title like that, Tam thought. He dropped back down to the ground and watched as the young man closed his eyes, probably 'speaking' to someone back in Lochil.

"Remove one of the smaller stones," Mauric said out loud, apparently not expert enough to be able to 'speak' this way in silence. His eyes opened. "We're ready now."

"If you need rest, or food and drink, say so," Tameron said. "I don't want to end up there in pieces!"

"I'll be all right, lord prince," the young man said with a wry smile. "I thank you for your grace in asking, though. Now please hold still..."

Soon a light glowed around both of them. The cabin and the people outside of it disappeared in a familiar glittering cloud that surrounded Tameron and Mauric. Tam closed his eyes, suddenly heartsick at having to leave the only real family he'd ever known. I won't forget them, he thought. If I ever have anything to say about it, I'll make sure no one is ever treated like they were again!

 

Chapter 11

 

Tameron kept his eyes closed during the odd journey. He'd forced them open once when he'd been summoned by his father several years ago, and had been sick when it was over. He remembered what it'd been like--no sight, no sound, only a dead grayness and a horrifying sense of imbalance that had turned his stomach inside out when he'd emerged into the real world again. As long as he allowed himself to travel blind, it didn't bother him so much. He was glad Mauric knew his business with the weights. Every journey like this had its risks, for those near the departure or the arrival point, and for those who traveled this way. He swallowed back his fear.

After what seemed like a longer time than usual, he felt solid ground beneath his feet. Mauric's good, he thought. He matched us really well. He remembered one time when he'd fallen nearly half a foot because the mage in charge of moving him had been terrified of landing them too low with their feet in the ground. Tameron gradually opened his eyes and saw the courtyard of the Guardian's palace in Lochil. Mauric began to crumple to the ground. Tam caught him, but the weight made his left leg hurt. The place was oddly deserted. Perhaps not so odd, he thought. A mage who wasn't sure who was going to travel with him could land anywhere if the counterweight was off.

A young, dark-skinned woman in a red gown rushed forward. "Mauric, it's all right," she said, her black hair flying in the breeze. She made several fluid gestures in the air, and then placed her hands on the young man's head while Tam supported him.

Mauric opened his eyes and stood up, though he was pale as death behind his freckles. "Kiliane," he whispered, and embraced the girl. They walked off together as if Tameron didn't exist. Small thanks he'd gotten for keeping the young mage from hitting the ground!

He looked around again. He didn't see Randor anywhere. Tam glanced upward and saw a banner waving from the highest turret of the castle, with a bright blue star on a white background. It was just like the one the soldiers had carried. His father was here. He didn't know if that was good or bad, but he was glad of it anyway. I'll try to do what my father wants now, he thought. There's so much I can do if they'll only give me a chance.

Commander Stine and some of her guards approached from the palace side of the courtyard. Lorin broke away and rushed towards him. He knelt, clasped Tameron's knees, and said, "He that was lost has been found. He who was gone has returned."

"Lorin, don't make such a fuss. I'm all right," Tam said, and reached down to help his friend up. Lorin shook his head, and stayed on his knees.

Another guard came forward and pulled Lorin up. "Stop that, it's way too soon. Besides, he's not back in Kelemath yet."

Stine marched the rest of the guards over and snapped at both of them. "Barracks detail for you two for a week if you don't obey orders!" Lorin and the other man went back into formation, but not without a backward glance at Tameron.

The commander ordered them all to take up positions around the Protector's son. Tam allowed himself to be escorted inside. How large and magnificent the rooms were! Why, Aylar's cabin could easily fit inside one hall.

"Lorin, what's going on?" he asked quietly as they stepped forward. His friend opened his mouth to reply, only to be hushed into silence by a glare from Stine.

What's wrong? I'm being treated like a prisoner. He tried to bear it well, but he'd lost the habit of keeping his face in the approved mask required of the Protector's heir.

He kept an eye out for Randor as they walked through the halls of the castle. Surely his old servant would tell him what was going on. He saw familiar faces, but as soon as he caught someone's eye, they would turn away. I've come back from the dead, he thought half-jokingly. Isn't that worth at least a friendly greeting?

Tameron began to shake. He'd had breakfast only a few hours ago, but he felt hollow inside, as he always did after traveling this way. Mauric was better off than he was. The poor fellow was undoubtedly still exhausted, but at least someone cared about him. Surely this was some kind of mistake. He looked at Stine to see if her expression gave any clue to his situation, but she kept her eyes sternly ahead.

The commander suddenly stopped. "I'm supposed to take you straight to your father, Lord Tameron, but I think we'd better stop here first."

Tam noticed they were at the entrance to the baths and became uncomfortably aware of how he must look and smell. Bathing had been an ordeal in the small cabin, especially in cold weather. Sleeping in the barn probably hadn't improved him much.

The attendants said nothing to him, instead of their usual animated chatter. That bothered him, but he gratefully sank into the hot, chin-deep water. This was the first time he'd been fully warm all the way through since...well, since he and Marysa had been together behind her mother's back. The claw-marks on his leg looked more impressive than they really were. Just as well. Tam doubted he'd be allowed any more healing for this injury than what Dorena had given, since it appeared he was in some kind of disgrace. He'd better look after it himself. Oh, Lord and Lady, bless Dorena for having the courage to stand up for me, he thought. If he'd come back much sooner, he wouldn't have been able to walk this far without help. As much as he loved his father, he knew better to expect any indulgence. No, that's not fair. It's the Council's fault, he thought. He still remembered that night in Kelemath before he'd left on the journey to Lochil. He does care about me, if only a little. Surely that hasn't changed. I know he'll be angry with me because I took off the way I did, but it won't last long. I hope.

Tam knew he had to convince the Protector that he was fit to be his father's heir and bear this temporary disgrace as well as he could. I hope it's temporary, he thought. Who would speak for the servants who scurried around him if he didn't? They were clearly frightened, judging by the looks on their faces. It wasn't right. No one should have to be afraid. Someone should remember them, and all the people like them.

It's not right to starve because of injustice, or think it's useless to plead for what's right, like Aylar. A good thing I was here in Lochil when Jarrett brought his case. He soaked blissfully in the bath. Even if I lost Marysa because of it. Surely the Guardian would have made the same decision without him, but maybe not. Maybe she would have waited till she'd heard from Tigran, or decided to let Jarrett sit awhile because he'd already delayed so long.

Tameron looked down at his scarred leg through the clear water. It was worth the risk to protect those who needed help from wolves, particularly those with two legs instead of four.

One of the servants, a young man Tam didn't recognize, coughed and looked embarrassed. Tameron took the hint. He'd been stalling, not just soaking. He got out, dried himself, and dressed without assistance. At least the hot water had eased the pain in his leg. The fresh shirt and vest were tight around his shoulders, but loose everywhere else. Both the shirt and fine wool trousers were too short. No doubt he'd need a whole new set of clothes. Tam sucked in his breath as he jammed his feet into the boots someone had brought from his room. He'd need larger ones, though it was pleasant to have stockings that were truly clean. A good thing he'd been able to use Aylar's old boots when he lived at the cabin. Tam was tempted by the comfortable-looking inside slippers, but knew this first meeting was going to be strictly formal. He'd show lack of respect by wearing casual footwear, and suspected his father would not appreciate it.

Most of the servants left. The young man motioned for him to follow, took him into a room nearby, and then departed. Stine sat at a small table heaped with food next to an empty chair and said, "Sit down and have a bite. I've never had to be transported through the air by a mage, but your father's always hungry as a bear in spring whenever it happens to him."

Tam's mouth began watering at the sight of so much laid out just for him. The whole family--Dorena's whole family, including Jarrett--could eat well on what waited for him on this table. All his favorites were there. Boiled hicki, mashed and dripping with butter, fresh plums out of season from a hothouse in Kelemath, roast beef with a small dish of fireweed sauce, pickled vegetables fragrant with spices, and honey cake topped with raisins filled the platters in front of him. In the center was a small container of salt that Dorena would make last for a month.

He sat down and filled his plate with shaking hands. Tameron tried to eat slowly. It'd been so long since he'd known he could have all he wanted without making anyone else go short, even when they no longer had to fear actual starvation. Here there were no such limits. No small boy's eyes gazed at him, silently begging for just one more bite.

He was surprised at how quickly his first helping disappeared. Stine smiled and laid her hand on his shoulder. "Better take it easy, lad, or you won't keep it down. Didn't they feed you?"

"I had my fair share, but they didn't have much. They didn't count on me making a hole in it, either. The last week or so was a lot better, when they knew it didn't have to last till spring, but still nothing like this. I remember wishing one of the cows would break something so we would have to slaughter it." Tameron sat back in the chair, though he dearly wanted to clear the table. "They--they were very kind to me." He longed to see them now. Probably more than they want to see me.

Stine sighed. "At least you're alive. At first we thought you'd been killed or more likely, abducted, by the same people who paid off that girl Liselda. The Guardian didn't think either one was true, but she was the only one. A good thing she was right. We were all afraid your father's enemies had you, and were just lying low. You could have come back in pieces, or been quietly buried somewhere for all we knew. What really happened?"

"I went for a ride early that morning by myself and was caught in a storm. I made it to the woods and camped out for a little while. I probably should have stayed there. I started looking for better shelter near sunset and found a clearing. I was riding towards some smoke. I was hoping it was a cook fire or maybe even a hut. Then--then I must have fallen, because I don't remember anything after that till I woke up in the cabin. Dorena said I'd been out for several days, or at least not really awake." Tam lifted up the hair in back of his left ear and showed Stine the scar. "I must have hit my head. I was sick for a while, and didn't remember much more than part of my name till just a week ago. My head hurt whenever I tried." That was partly true. Tameron decided not to mention how little he'd wanted to know.

Stine shook her head. "Every mage in Fiallyn Mor looked for you. It was given out that you were receiving special training on how to handle some very unusual powers, and had ended up lost on a quest. The people you say were so kind certainly kept you hidden well enough."

"They were afraid of mages," Tam said. "Tigran in Bogatay was bleeding them dry and threatening to tell Lord Honnold where they were if they didn't pay up. He wanted even more from Marysa, and used his powers to hurt her when she said no. Honnold swore he was innocent of their deaths when he was up here, but that didn't stop him from taking their land. Jarrett kept Tigran's men from killing me when the mage came after the whole family to fetch Marysa for himself and her child for Honnold." It was a little more complicated than that, but not much.

"Sounds like a fairy tale," Stine said, but she didn't look as grim as she had before. "You can see why we feared the worst, though. Nobody saw you go, and some people thought you'd been taken away by magic. Mauric himself was under suspicion till the Protector took the fellow into his own service."

"I'm surprised the chestnut mare I rode didn't come back, you know, the one with the white face and nice gait."

"I've seen her around." Stine looked thoughtful. "And the groom didn't report her coming back, either. Now that's interesting. I think I'll have another talk with him and his assistants, too. How did you get past the guards? Come now, lad, confess. If you can get past them, so can an assassin."

Tameron hated to get any of them in trouble, but Stine was right. "I waited till the guard out in the hall took a drink from his flask and then had to take a leak."

The commander shook her head. "And didn't call another guard to take over while he went, because he knew he wasn't supposed to have the flask, or didn't want to share. Well, he was demoted anyway. Maybe I ought to have a healer cure his liking for strong drink. Just for his own good, of course." Her grim smile boded ill for that guard, whoever he was. "But whatever possessed you to take off like that in the first place?"

"I might as well have been a prisoner! I was kept inside the castle and had guards in my lap every moment. I just wanted to be alone. Maybe even pretend to be like other people, before Father came here and I was under his eye, too." Tameron bowed his head. "I should have known better. But don't blame the family that helped me! Aylar found me and took me back to the cabin, even though he said later he thought I was going to die. Dorena and Marysa cared for me, and Jorry was like a little brother. When Jarrett came, I thought I recognized his voice but I didn't know why. Then we fought against a pack of wolves, and I remembered a little bit about the bandits from last spring." He knew better than to mention the other man's dragon tattoo. "Jarrett started talking about me being a protector, and...and it all came back."

He waited for Stine's reaction. Her face was blank. Tameron looked down at the floor. "I knew it was going to be like this when I returned. The Protector is angry, isn't he?" His father had shouted at him the night he'd tried to die. He ought to be used to it, but he couldn't help remembering the other night, the one when his father had spoken so kindly to him.

"I've been keeping my armor on when I talk to him," Stine said tactfully.

"Is that why no one's allowed to say anything to me? Or has he told them I've done something evil so they all hate me now?" He knew Stine served the Protector, not him, but he had to know.

The commander shrugged, though there was a sad look in her eyes. "It's for your own good. I'm not supposed to speak to you, either. Your father has his reasons. Better this than a beating like the ones I had from my own parents at times. When you've proven yourself trustworthy, I'm sure he'll relent."

Tameron would rather endure physical pain and get it over with than this emotional torture. Then he wondered at Stine's words. "Trustworthy? I don't understand! Why shouldn't I be loyal? I haven't done anything wrong!"

"I've heard stories of people kidnapped by their enemies and then returned to their families after the ransom was paid, swearing the evil-doers had treated them kindly. They seemed normal when they first got back, till they suddenly slew their own kin and then claimed not to remember what they'd done. Some evil spell had been placed on them while they were captive, and the memory of it erased till the time came for them to act," Stine said. "Anything could have been done to you, and how would you know? Anyone looking at you would say you had been starved and beaten already. If this family was so kind, why didn't they protect you better from those wolves that clawed your leg?"

"I wanted to fight them!" Tameron said passionately. "You should have seen how many I killed! And when I fell, Aylar pulled me back just in time, while Jarrett struck the one that would have gotten me!"

"Two grown men, letting you take the forefront?" Stine asked sarcastically. "Now I really want to talk to both of them. And so, I suspect, does your father and the Guardian. They have to account for all the time you were away, and that means looking into the memories of the people you were with. Till they can do that, how can they trust you?"

Tameron gritted his teeth with embarrassment. He'd like to see one memory that Marysa had of him down at the bottom of Kadramas Lake. "Then put me in a cell where you're safe from me!" he cried. At least that way he wouldn't be on constant public display while everyone watched and wondered when he would go mad. His memories couldn't be wrong!

"It won't be as bad as you think," Stine said gently. "I've been on punishment details that were far worse, believe me. You don't get to be my age without making a few mistakes. It shouldn't take your father or the Guardian long to find out what really happened. If what you say about this Tigran is true, I'd rather not be in his place when the Guardian deals with him. If this family really helped you that much, they'll be rewarded as much as your father can manage."

"I hope so," Tam said. Stine hadn't mentioned Randor yet. His old servant's fate was probably going to be used to make him do whatever his father wanted. No doubt the Protector was more upset over his political problems than about anything that might have happened to his son. It doesn't matter, Tameron thought, even though it hurt a lot. It's worth playing the game to protect people like Aylar and Dorena. Maybe that's why Lorin and his friend were so glad to see me. That could explain why whoever shot the white arrows at my attackers did it.

Stine stood up. "We've delayed long enough."

Tameron looked at the table again. Even the scraps would make a good supper for the family he'd stayed with. "Thank you," he said, gesturing at the food. "It's so much for just one person, isn't it?"

The commander smiled grimly. "Don't worry, it won't go to waste. Kitchen workers have families, too."

Tam remembered the food Marysa had brought home from the inn, and silently agreed. He rose, straightened his sword, and arranged his cape in the proper fashion. It felt odd to worry how it looked, rather than how warm it was against a cold wind. He hoped he wouldn't forget the past few months. A real Protector had to serve all of Fiallyn Mor, not just the rich and powerful.

The rest of his escort was outside waiting for him and Stine. He felt like a prisoner again as they gathered around him, and he gritted his teeth with anger. Then he forced himself to calm down. No matter how furious his father was with him now, he ought to be pleased when he learned his son was eager to take on the duties required of him. Tameron knew he could stand any punishment, no matter how unjust, as long as he kept his promise to Aylar in mind. Ordinary people had to endure as much or more without any hope at all.

They moved forward. His leg began to hurt again as Stine and the soldiers walked quickly into the heart of the palace. Tam concealed his limp as long as he could, but refused to ask for a slower pace even when the pain shortened his steps. Maybe he should have chosen to wear the indoor slippers after all.

The commander signaled a halt once they were at the door of the audience room, where he had given justice with the Guardian's help only a few months ago. "Lord Tameron, you must leave your sword here," she said, though she looked embarrassed at making the request.

As the Protector's son, he'd had the right to wear the blade wherever he pleased. In fact, Stine had encouraged him to do so. "I am not my father's enemy," he said, though he knew the protest was futile.

"You know why. You're no threat to so many of us, but you cannot see Lord Sidian this way." Stine held out her hand. Her face was red.

"As the Protector wishes," Tameron said reluctantly, and complied. "May I soon earn his trust." Once the knowledge of his identity had returned, his experiences became a complete whole. Only the accident itself and the first days afterwards were missing. He hoped the Guardian had learned all she needed already from her brief possession of Dorena. That should assure them that he carried no poison in his mind.

Stine handed his blade to one of the soldiers outside the room. He entered the high-ceilinged, beautiful room with her at his side. Even when he was unarmed they thought him a threat! At least the other soldiers stayed outside, but the commander kept her hand on the hilt of her sword.

Suddenly it became too much for him, despite his resolution to be strong. Only this morning he'd risen from a ragged bed in a tiny cabin and said his farewells to the family who'd cared for him for months. In his mind he still felt the light brush of Marysa's final kiss on his cheek. Now he was being treated like a traitor by his own father! No matter how reasonable it might seem, it still hurt. Tam took several deep breaths to keep from weeping, or falling to his knees and crying out his anger and despair.

Once he regained a semblance of calm, he bowed towards the Protector and the Guardian, who sat on the chairs on the dais. Then he began walking forward, though he longed to run and beg for an embrace, an embrace like the one he remembered from that last night in Kelemath.

He had to build that bridge somehow.

When he was several feet from the few shallow steps leading to the chairs, the Protector spoke. "That's close enough."

Tam stopped, bowed again, and stood patiently for his father's command. He forced himself not to show any emotion at all, let alone the confusion that tightened his stomach and made him wish he hadn't eaten anything. If I'm not welcome, then let me go!

"Explain yourself," the Protector said. "Have you any idea how frightened your absence made us? We can't believe you simply ran away!"

"I went for an early morning ride," Tameron said. He recited his story again, except for the parts that belonged only to him and Marysa, though he suspected that the Guardian now knew some of it through Dorena. Then he lifted up his hair to show the scar behind his ear. "It wasn't their fault they didn't know who I was," he said. "Perhaps I was safer that way. Even Tigran thought I was the son who'd died the year before."

His father's face softened for a moment, then hardened again. "I hope this story is true. How are you now?" he asked in a neutral tone.

"I remember everything but the fall itself, and the first few days after it," Tam said. "I haven't had a bad headache for over a month." He was too proud to mention the ache in his leg or the pinching of the too-small boots. They wouldn't care even if they knew. No, that's not true. The Guardian did all she could for me when I was sick the last time.

"How convenient for your memory to return just when we found you," his father said dryly.

But that's the way it really happened. Why is it so hard to believe? He appealed to his aunt for help. There was more compassion in the drape of her hood than in the Protector's whole face. "My lady, you were in Dorena's mind. You know what she knew. Tell my father why her family is afraid of mages. Since you spoke through Tigran as well, you know they have good reasons for it." He was tired of having to defend himself. "It's a shameful thing when mages who are supposed to protect the ordinary people prey on them instead. Dorena and her family had a right to be afraid of magic. Marysa still carries the scar of what Honnold's dog did to her because she refused to put herself in shame for him!"

The Guardian coughed, then spoke. "I fear the Protector has not said everything in his heart today. Many questioned your father's wisdom when he insisted that you should be his heir, even when you showed no evidence of powers or potential for them. These people became louder, much louder, after you disappeared. Some of the Council did not search for you as diligently as they could, or I suspect had evil motives when they did. They're trying to force my brother to adopt Lady Kiliane of the a' Sandega clan instead. You may remember her from when you attended Council in Kelemath. The Protector has brought her here to continue her training, should he be forced to accept her."

Oh, yes, he remembered her. Tam felt his face go hot as he recalled the dream he'd had about her, the dream that had impelled him to go on that ride in the first place. "I'm not trying to run from my duty," he said. "I learned that lesson already. After giving justice here and seeing what happens to people who don't get it, I know what must be done. Father, please believe me! Let me have your training, too! I've spent a long time at my studies, but the Guardian showed me how to use them. I don't mean to sound hungry for power for its own sake, but there's so much that needs to be done!" The lessons he'd learned in Dorena's cabin were the most important ones.

The Protector's face relaxed again, if only for a brief moment. Tameron kept talking. He couldn't let his opportunity pass by. "All my life I've heard how well you love justice, Father. What justice is there when ordinary people are afraid to even ask for it? Jarrett believed in the Guardian's grace well enough to seek an audience, though he swore he had to pay some of the servants just to see her."

The Guardian interrupted. "I think Jarrett was mistaken. Those who wish to see me must pledge some of their wealth, but only in proportion to what they have. It's always returned once justice is given out."

"Are you sure?" Tam asked, amazed by his own boldness. "I remember, I said it was a temporary judgment. Maybe he never got it back because of that. Or maybe he only got part of it. He could have just been complaining, my lady, but maybe he really was asked for all he had, and not just a portion of it."

"I shall make inquiries," she said in a thoughtful tone.

"Thank you, my lady," Tameron said. "Aylar gave up without trying. He thought all mages were as bad as Tigran. I beg you, Father, show him it isn't true! Show them you really mean what you say!"

The Protector's face became an angry mask. "I wish I could, but it's not that easy. Tigran always had a name for greed, and his relatives are even worse. However, he's still a mage. The best I can do is to put him where he can do the least harm."

Tam couldn't believe it. "Father, the mages deal justice to the rest of the people, but you deal it to the mages. If Tigran goes unpunished, then others will believe they can act the same way. You once told me that the true test of power is how someone acts towards those without it."

"My own power isn't as great you think it is," the Protector replied, "and it's been lessened by your stupidity! Tigran has been rebuked already for his thieving ways. That's why someone with his connections is in a town as small as Bogatay in the first place."

"Does that mean those who live there don't matter?" Tameron said. "Does that mean wizards with highly-placed relatives are allowed to steal, and those who don't have them aren't?"

"You have no idea what you're talking about," his father said. "I see I've kept you too sheltered. It's not as easy as you think. I must do things to keep my power that I'm not proud of, but the alternative is worse. Most of the time I think I'm the only one who gives a damn about those in this land who don't have magic. Just last year a mage wanted to change the land-law and turn all commoners into serfs because he lost his own inheritance for having magic in the land he came from. He's not the worst! Every once in a while someone comes here from the southwest and wants to own ordinary people as slaves! Imagine what would happen if one of them took my place!"

Tam hadn’t thought about that. The Protector continued. "I'm lucky that Tigran stole from his own kind as well as from commoners, or I never would have been allowed to do as much to him as I did."

The Guardian murmured something about a Rite of Purification. His father turned his head to her, and said, "They'll never stand for it these days. I agree, it is a pity."

Tameron had never heard of it. He suddenly thought of something. "Lord Protector, if Tigran is taking money and goods by threats, Lord Honnold probably never sees it. In fact, who knows? He might be paying Tigran to hide something, too. Does the mage pay his Tenth on what he's stealing from others? He may be cheating you as well as all the rest. If you punish him for that, his family would be the first to understand." He was rather proud of coming up with that. Perhaps that might get his father to do something about the man.

Lord Sidian laughed, but with a sour edge to it. "You learn fast. Perhaps you'll do better than I thought."

"I know I will," Tam said. "When...if the day comes that I sit in your place, a lot of people will find out what I really think!" He'd do anything to prove Aylar was right to trust him.

"That's what I'm afraid of," his father said, but in a gentler voice. "I should have expected this. You've spent your whole life with commoners, and not just the last couple of months. It's my fault for never finding time for you. Of course you to cling to servants and to Stine's guards. Tayn is your tutor, but he's always considered scholarship more important than his powers.

"That has to change. It's time you learn how to deal with mages as well. After all, nearly half of us have powers, a far higher proportion than in other lands. You must be able to understand us, too. Normally you'd be in the Wizard's College by now, but naturally that's out of the question. That's why I've told the servants not to speak to you unless they must. It'll do you good to know young Mauric and Lady Kiliane. I've been neglectful in failing to arrange something like this before. Take advantage of this opportunity before we go back to Kelemath. Truly, we're not all as bad as some of those on the Council." The Protector slumped in his chair, looking exhausted.

So that's the reason for the silent treatment! Tameron thought. Oh, Lord and Lady, make me strong enough to help my father carry his burdens, instead of adding to them. He still had one more question. "When will I know if anything--if anything happened to me while I was gone that I don't know about?"

"Dorena remembers you quite well," the Guardian said. "We need to search the memories of her daughter and husband, and then I believe you may consider yourself quite safe. We must also test their minds for tampering. It's not that we don't trust you, but our enemies can be subtle. After all, Jarrett could be part of a plan to gain your pity for these people. The examination shouldn't take long, however. No matter what really happened, you've clearly been through a great deal. I promised the old woman that you'd be cared for, and I meant it, no matter what has or has not been done to you."

Tameron bowed his head, and hoped his aunt would understand why he hadn't mentioned everything in his story. If Marysa had been part of any plan, surely she would have found a way to get around her mother's watchful eye long before Jarrett showed up, instead of holding him off. "I hear and obey, Lady Guardian," he said. "But once everything turns out all right, may I attend drill with Commander Stine?" He'd need those skills no matter what happened to him.

"Certainly," his father said waspishly. "Considering how well she executed my previous orders on how to treat you, I suppose it'd be a waste of breath to forbid it anyway."

"My lord, forgive me," Stine said, and knelt. "I thought it best that he not offend you by his appearance when he first got here. It seemed wrong not to let him eat, as thin as he looks."

The Protector sighed, and gestured for her to rise. "I fear in my eagerness to see my son that I didn't think of that," he said with an exasperated air. "I ought to be glad you did."

Then Tameron asked what he really wanted to know. His voice shook despite his attempt to keep it steady. "What...what of Randor? Is he well?"

The Guardian answered. "He has served our family for a long time," she said in a kindly voice. "He has been released and allowed to return to his own kin to rest. He will, of course, be properly rewarded for his years of caring for you. You shouldn’t try to look for him."

His father's face allowed no appeal. Tam knew it was hopeless to object. "As you wish," he whispered. He must not weep. He wasn't a child any longer, and had to take up a man's burdens. He remembered his promise to Aylar, which helped. He couldn't be a good Protector if he let his own needs stand in the way of what had to be done. It hurt so much to lose the one person he'd depended on all his life, though, he couldn't say anything more.

Lord Sidian looked uncomfortable. Perhaps he'd expected an argument and was surprised at not hearing one. "Escort him back to his room, Stine," his father said after a long silence. "I'll send you the schedule I've planned for him once we're certain everything's been accounted for."

Tameron backed away as protocol demanded, then turned around when he felt the door at his back. Stine opened it for him. Just as he walked through it, she murmured, "In case anyone forgot to mention it, welcome home."

 

Chapter 12

 

Stine and the other guards quickly escorted him up the stairs to his old set of rooms. Tameron couldn't believe how tired he was, and was glad to be left alone once he'd entered the small suite.

No, he wasn't in a cell. His study, bedroom, and necessary room were larger than Aylar's cabin. Rich wooden paneling glowed in the filtered sunlight that came in the thick glass windows. Warm air flowed into the place through vents from a source beneath the palace that drew on the heat of the earth itself, while the frames of the windows were so cunningly fitted that no breath of winter dared to force its way into the rooms. Tam smiled as he glanced at the door that led into the privy. He did not miss the cold little shack behind the cabin!

The servants had kept his things in order. His boots were polished, while his other clothes hung like waiting soldiers behind the wardrobe doors. Of course, none of them fit any more, but they certainly looked elegant enough. His bed had layers of thick blankets and soft linen sheets, while his desk held several books. The place looked as if he'd never left.

Once he'd heard the steps of his escort move away, he sank down onto the plush material of the coverlet and wept. He'd trade it all in a moment for the ragged quilts Dorena had offered him. Unfortunately, he hadn't been given a choice. Her family had no room for him, either.

After a short while, his tears ran dry. He got up from the bed and knelt at the small shrine in the far corner. Even that had been kept dusted. He bowed his head before the figures of the Lord and Lady. Did They really watch over him, or were they just dolls like the one for Darin that Dorena had kept on her hearth?

When he was much younger, he'd imagined the icons in his room in Kelemath would talk together while he slept, the way that Esa and Randor had murmured near his bed when they believed he was already lost to his dreams. After his nursemaid had died, it had comforted him to think that she might be helping the Lady look after him.

Tameron looked at his hand, already half-raised to tap in supplication on the little table near the statues. He wasn't a child any more. Dorena's fervent prayers had been answered in a way no one could imagine, but he knew better than to expect such help for himself.

The only person who'd showed any joy at his return had been Lorin and that other guard. He still couldn't make any sense of what they'd said. Why did it make a difference whether he was back in Kelemath or not? It...it was as if he were a stone dragon, and they were about to light a candle for him.

Suddenly he trembled. The puppet play, the arrows with white fletching, and the dragon tattoo on Jarrett's wrist--there was a connection, some common factor, and he was terrified it might be him. He remembered the dream of that room in Kelemath. Should he go there and find out if he could enter it in real life?

No wonder my father is suspicious of me, he thought. He must know what people are saying, and wonder if I think I’m the Dragon. When I tell him how much I want to help the commoners, he must think that I'm ready to join the rebels in the hills. I've got to find a way to show that I'm really loyal to him!

He couldn't pray. Tam got back up on the bed, removed his boots, and rubbed his painful feet. Then he removed the too-short breeches and examined the scars on his leg. His calf still ached, so he massaged the muscles till they became looser. Once his leg felt better, he started to exercise, so it would be as strong as the other one. If I'm to be a prisoner, he thought, I'd better try to stay as active as I can. Stine once said that it was easier to keep captives from escaping if they became weak. Of course, the commander had been talking about those who acted against the Council at the time. Tameron grimaced. He'd never imagined that he'd ever be treated like one.

He put his trousers back on and went to the other small room, just for the novelty of having so much space. Tam sat on the chair, idly swinging his injured leg and wondering what to do next. He was still full from the meal Stine had given him. By this time of day at Dorena's he would have worked for several hours, eaten a spare mid-day meal, and wonder when he could take the cows in. After that, he would help the old woman with any of the evening chores she'd let him do, and watching Jorry. Even when he'd been laid up after the wolves' attack, he'd had the small boy to amuse and Marysa to look at.

It felt odd to have nothing to do. Even when he'd watched the cows he'd foraged for edible plants, or worked on his carving. That gave Tam an idea. He looked inside the small box under the table near his bed. Several half-finished pieces of wood were inside, but the sharp tools he normally used were all gone. He didn't expect to see his sword or dagger back for a while, but was surprised they'd been so thorough.

It didn't matter. If he were truly intent on doing harm to himself or others, no one could stop him. Stine had taught him too well that weapons were everywhere, in the guise of common household goods. Why, one of his shirts could easily be turned into a deadly noose, while a heavy book tied shut and wrapped in a sheet could be used as a makeshift club.

Tameron smiled to himself, feeling a bit less helpless as he looked at all the things the servants had left in his room, thinking them harmless. They don't need to worry anyway. Even if they gave me my sword, my dagger, and the weapons in the storeroom combined, my promise to Aylar keeps everyone safer than all the precautions in the world.

At least they'd left him his books. His tutor, Scholar Tayn, had once told him that proper learning was deadlier than the sharpest blade. He hoped it was true. Tam selected a volume he normally avoided, since he usually preferred exciting stories of battles to dry tales of the law. Now he had to make words his sword and shield. They were all he had left.

Once he began to read, it wasn't as bad as he'd expected. Each rule was illustrated with a case, occasionally tragic, but sometimes silly, that showed what the law meant and how the writer of the book had thought it should be used.

Tameron concentrated on one about a fast horse, often used to race against others, which had disappeared. The man who'd lured the beast away by leading a mare in season near the owner's barn had protested his innocence. He was found guilty of theft even though the horse had been returned in less than a week. Tam blushed, and remembered Liselda, who'd been paid by someone to lure him the same way. It'd certainly come close to working in his case! And at Dorena's cabin, Marysa had told him how they'd borrowed the neighbor's bull to freshen the cows each year. Deliberately leaving a fence down for a bull known to stray could easily be seen as theft according to this rule.

He hastily turned the next page and went to another chapter, hoping to keep his mind off of what he'd lost when Jarrett had come back. Then he heard a knock at the door. He jumped to his feet, hoping against hope that someone he cared for wanted to see him. Tam's heart sank a little when he saw it was just Lorin with a tray of food, but that was better than some blank-faced guard who simply obeyed orders. "Thank you," he said softly, and took his dinner from his friend's hands. It wasn't that late; the light from his window hadn't dimmed much yet, but he supposed they must believe him to be starving.

Lorin looked about nervously, but said nothing.

"I know what my father's orders are, so you don't have to say anything. But no one ever told me I couldn't talk!" Tam said, forcing himself to sound cheerful.

"They don't want you to know--they're afraid of you, even the Protector," Lorin whispered. "I heard you're going to be kept prisoner in a tower even when we go back to Kelemath. It's not right!"

Tameron leaned out the door and saw another guard turn the corner into the hall.

So did Lorin, apparently. "Tell you more later," his friend murmured, and walked away.

Tam closed the door and set the tray down on his study-table. What had the guards been told? They must not think he was particularly dangerous with only a single watcher on duty. What was Lorin trying to tell him? He remembered when they had been friends at drill, and Stine's opinion of their sloppy swordsmanship was far more important than Tameron's birth. Now Lorin's voice was hushed and full of awe, as if a gulf had grown between them wider and higher than the Wall itself.

The sky darkened and the glow-lights in his room came on. Tam ate the food on the tray before it became cold. He opened a small jar and sniffed it. His nose wrinkled at the smell; this was certainly nothing he'd care to put on his bread. Then he noticed a bit of paper that had fallen out onto the table when he opened the jar. He unfolded it, and read "for your leg" in tiny script that looked like the Guardian's handwriting. The pot contained only a small amount, but even that little brought comforting warmth to the half-healed scars when he put it on.

Then he lay down to rest, so used to early hours by now that sitting up later made him weary. Besides, he ought to sleep as much as he could when given the chance. He shouldn't forget he was at his father's disposal at any time. The Protector often worked late at night, and might wish to speak to him. He ought to use this time to recover his strength.

He fell asleep surprisingly fast on a bed softer than he was used to, but was haunted by an odd dream of a crowned skeleton on a throne croaking warnings of doom. He woke with an aching head, and shook with fear. Tam rose from the bed, turned on one of the glow-lights, and visited the privy. He limped around his quarters, not knowing why he was so upset by the dream. No doubt the old dream and Lorin's terrified rumor had combined in this vision. He tried to open a window for a breath of fresh air, only to find it was locked shut.

Then he noticed a small tray left inside the door by the hallway. Tameron eagerly picked up the flagon full of water and the buttered bread, wrapped to keep it fresh. Just before he drank, he stopped and carefully tasted one drop. Surely nothing can happen here the way it did in Kelemath. If my own father wants me dead or drugged there's not much I can do about it. But…if one guard can be bought, so can another. Both the water and the bread smelled and tasted wholesome, so he devoured both without hesitation. "I'm so tired of being afraid," he said quietly to himself. Now he remembered why he'd wanted a day to himself so badly. At least in Dorena's cabin, the enemies he had were out in the open. Hunger was easier to fight than the possibility of hidden poison, while one angry fire-mage was less fearful than a Council full of them.

Tameron lay back down, not really expecting to sleep, but didn't wake till a guard knocked on the door with breakfast. He fell into a routine for the next few days of eating, loosening the muscles of his leg, exercising, and reading more of the law-book. Every evening tray brought him another small jar of ointment for the scars, whose redness faded.

He had trouble concentrating one day when he felt more energetic than usual. His dream the night before had all been of Marysa, only this time she'd stayed with him in the cabin instead of running out the door to her former lover. His body ached with longing despite the release such visions always brought him.

After trying to pay attention to the words on the page that morning, and failing totally, he stood up and gazed out the window. All he saw was the courtyard and the lake beyond. The clouds were gray today, not white, and so heavy with moisture they appeared to crawl over the mountains and slide down into the hollow created by Kadramas Lake. Then he looked at the dragon statues that projected from the walls of the palace. He'd never understood why his room had one so close--it wasn't as if he was a mage. Close up, the stone figure seemed to be struggling to free himself from the mortar around him. "I know how you feel," he whispered to his dragon. After all, even outside his room he was forever a prisoner of the Wall.

So was everyone else in this land with no magical powers. It was his duty to give them hope that their sacrifices weren't in vain. He sighed and turned away, back towards his books. Perhaps somewhere in them he'd find the key out of here.

Tameron had just picked up another volume of law when someone rapped on the door of his room. He stood and said, "Come in." Stine came in, silently bowed, and gestured for Tam to follow her.

He smiled. "What a silly game this is. I hope everyone knows I'm not an assassin in disguise by now." He hoped he wasn't one, either. He put on his boots, which he'd left off for the past few days as nobody called for his presence. Their pinch reminded him of all the obstacles he needed to overcome before he could do much good. "Oh, I know you're not supposed to talk to me till I'm sent back to drill. You'll have plenty to say then!" It felt strange to speak knowing he'd get no reply, but had decided not to stop talking at all. He was tired of meekly obeying until he understood what was going on. At Dorena's cabin, he'd been considered a man, even by Aylar and Jarrett, once he'd killed those wolves. Here they persisted in treating him like a child. Watching the commander just look at him without saying a word reminded him of another horrible dream before he'd taken off, the one where Stine had killed him when he'd tried to escape.

Tameron let her lead him down the stairs to the Guardian's small chamber next to the audience room. He nearly kicked himself. All this time I could have been listening in to what was going on below through the grill in the floor, instead of sitting with my nose in a book. What a fool I've been!

Both of them bowed before the Guardian, who sat alone near the hearth in the anteroom. No doubt my father has more important things to do. After all, Lady Kiliane needs so much training, probably to replace me. The Protector could always tell them that I've been so changed by his enemies that I'm no good to him.  That would keep the Council happy

"You may be seated, Tam," his aunt said in a gentle voice.

He didn't mind, as he'd forgotten how painful his boots could really be. "Thank you, my lady," he said, happy that someone was finally talking to him. "My lady, is your examination complete?"

"Yes. I am glad to tell you that nothing happened to you beyond falling off your horse. Aylar found you shortly after--in fact, he may have heard your cry of pain. He certainly saw the rump of your mare heading away. His family was remarkably kind to you under their hard circumstances, and will be handsomely rewarded. His wife is still worried about you, though I was able to reassure her on that count. I do hope the salve has helped the marks on your leg."

"Yes, Lady Guardian. My calf doesn't hurt nearly as much."

"Good. I saw you walking awkwardly and I wondered."