The Silver Mage. Katharine Kerr
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‘Fear not! There’s not a man in this fortress I’d want, not after you.’
He smiled again, as bright as the sunlight coming through the windows. ‘Let me take the crystals with me,’ he went on, ‘and at the morning meal today, I’ll tell the guard captain that if any other man looks at you wrong, he’ll have me to answer to.’
‘Truly?’
‘Truly. That way if I get you with child, everyone will know the child’s mine, so you’ll not have to worry that I’ll refuse to maintain it.’
His generosity surprised her so much that she had a hard time answering with more than a murmured ‘my thanks’. He sat down on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots. She cuddled against his back and tried to think of some generosity she could offer in return.
‘Rhoddo?’
‘Imph?’
‘Then from now on, your people will be my people, and if I have a child, I’ll raise him that way.’
‘Well and good, then.’ He turned to look at her. ‘That’s a grand thing you’re giving me.’
‘You’ve done the same for me. I’ll swear it on your gods, because they’re my gods now.’
‘Then swear it by Belinos and Evandar.’
‘Evandar’s not truly a god, you know.’
‘Of course he is! Our priests said so. When he saved my life, I promised him I’d swear all my vows on his name.’
If it pleases him, she thought, why does it matter? Belinos she knew nothing of, but if Rhodorix considered him a god, then she would honour him too. ‘I swear by Belinos and Evandar,’ she said.
‘So do I, that you’re my woman now.’
They both smiled, yet deep in her heart she felt sombre, as if a cold wind had touched her. Somehow, she knew, they’d sealed some sort of bargain, one that resonated far beyond the first days of a love affair.
The guardsmen ate in Prince Ranadar’s great hall, a long narrow room with tables enough for several hundred men. At one end stood a narrow dais, where the prince dined with his intimates. Frescoes covered the walls with pictures that reminded Rhodorix of those in Rhwmani villas, though these were far more magnificent. Painted roses bloomed in a vast garden that wrapped around the entire room. In the landscape behind the garden, one wall sported a view of rolling hills and forest; the other, a distant city on the far side of a river. A spiral made of bits of white glass covered half the ceiling. At night this spiral glowed with an eerie blue light, but during the day it merely glittered in the sun streaming through the windows.
Since Rhodorix sat next to Andariel at the warband’s head table – an honour, he realized, to a stranger who knew so many useful things – he could talk with the captain through the crystals. When he told Andariel that he considered Hwilli his property and his alone, Andariel relayed the warning to the guardsmen, who mostly laughed and saluted him with their wine cups.
‘She’s always been the stand offish sort,’ Andariel remarked. ‘Cold as ice, we all thought. I’m impressed that you could warm her up, and so are the rest of the lads.’
As the days went by, the warning had the desired effect. From time to time, Hwilli came down to the terrace to watch the riding lessons. The other men made a great show of looking elsewhere whenever she did, and if for some reason they needed to speak to her, they made the encounter as brief as possible.
‘They’re afraid of you,’ Andariel said. ‘If you’ve not noticed.’
‘Why would they be?’ Rhodorix was honestly surprised. ‘I’m naught, just an exile, in a way, a man who’s lost his tribe.’
‘Just for that reason. You have every reason to be desperate. You’re more than a little reckless, I’d say, judging from the way I’ve seen you ride. No one wants to face you in an honour duel.’
‘I see. Well, truly, the only trouble I’d ever cause you and the warband would be over Hwilli.’
‘Good.’ The captain smiled briefly and put a sliver of ice in his voice. ‘That’s the answer I’d hoped for. There, you’d be within your rights.’
But nowhere else, Rhodorix thought. ‘Well and good, then,’ he said aloud. ‘That’s fair.’
Once they’d eaten, Rhodorix and Andariel left the great hall together. They were walking across the rear courtyard when the gongs boomed from the priests’ tower. A blare of horns answered them from a doorway at its base. Andariel caught Rhodorix’s arm and made him stop.
‘They’re coming,’ he said. ‘We have to kneel.’
‘Who?’
‘The priests. Don’t say a word to them unless they ask you a question.’
‘Well and good, then.’
Rhodorix knelt beside the captain on the hard cobbles. When he glanced around, he saw that everyone within sight had knelt as well. Bronze horns, as harsh as the tubae of the homeland, blared from the fortress walls. Silver horns answered with a chiming melody. To the beat of small drums, carried before them by two lads, four men emerged from the tower.
Long robes of cloth of silver swirled around them with each measured step. They held their heads high and rigid, balancing the weight of their plumed and studded headdresses. Gold and sapphires gleamed at their throats and in their earlobes; a long trail of peacock feathers swayed down their backs. As they passed each person kneeling along their route, in perfect unison the priests raised one hand and lowered it again, most likely in blessing, but they never spoke a word. Behind them came eight lads marching two abreast, dressed in dark blue linen, each carrying a silver sword two-handed and upright in front of him.
They marched the entire length of the fortress, turned in a perfectly executed sweep, and marched back again. The horns blared, the drums beat steadily, until the priests and their retinue returned to their tower by the door they’d left from. After so much processional music, the silence rolled around the courtyard like sound.
‘Ye gods!’ Rhodorix shook his head to steady down his hearing. ‘What was all that about?’
‘I’ve got no idea,’ Andariel said. ‘Maybe they just wanted a bit of fresh air.’ He stood up, dusting the dirt from his knees. ‘They don’t tell us anything, and we don’t ask them anything. Those young lads with the swords? They have the right to kill anyone who insults a priest, and you never know what might insult them.’
Rhodorix got up to join him. ‘Those swords don’t look like they’d cut meat at table.’
‘They look soft, but they’re not true silver. It’s some kind of mix. I don’t know what it is, but the Mountain Folk up in Lin Rej make it.’
‘Oh. Well and good, then, captain. I’ll remember what you say about the priests. They look a fair bit different from the ones from my own tribe, not that I would have crossed them, either.’ Rhodorix paused, remembering Galerinos. ‘Well, except for the one who was a cousin of mine, but he was just an apprentice. Ye gods, no doubt I’ll never see him again, and that’s a pity.’
‘It’s a hard thing, exile.’ Andariel paused to look up at Reaching Mountain and the huge slabs of stone towering above. ‘I hope to the gods I never have to face it.’ He reached out and gave Rhodorix a friendly slap on the shoulder. ‘Let’s go round up our lads and get to work.’
After the day’s riding lessons, Rhodorix went first to the bath house, then back to the chamber he shared with Gerontos. His brother was sitting in a chair by the window and eating bread and fruit from a tray on the table.
‘What’s this?’ Rhodorix said. ‘Does Hwilli know you’re out of bed?’
‘She does. I’m not to walk any farther than this, but