“Good luck, then,” Geran said. He rode off without a second look, fixing an ill-tempered glare on his face and taking the middle of the street to play the part of a mercenary mage to its hilt. Turning up High Street, he crossed the Winterspear at the Middle Bridge-guarded by more runehelms, although they continued to ignore him-and headed north on the Vale Road, intending to visit Burkel Tresterfin and a few other loyalists whose homes were a little ways out of town. But he was turned back a little past the Troll and Tankard by Council Guards, who were halting all travel up the Winterspear Vale. Giving up on the idea of calling on Tresterfin, he turned back southward and headed for Mirya’s house.
He rode once past the lane leading to Mirya’s house, looking for any sign of Rhovann’s spies or guards while feigning an interest in the nearby shops. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, so he followed the road toward the Harmach’s Foot and turned into the woods that surrounded the base of Griffonwatch’s hill when he reached a bend in the lane. Mirya’s house was just on the other side of the woods; after eighty yards or so he emerged from the belt of trees in Mirya’s backyard. Dismounting, he looped his reins over a hitching rail and knocked at the door.
There was a small clatter inside, and the sound of swift footsteps on the floorboards. Then Mirya drew back the bolt and opened the door, a frown creasing her brow. “Yes, what-?” she began, and then recognition widened her eyes. “Geran! You’re here!”
“So much for the disguise,” he observed. Well, that wasn’t the fairest test. Mirya knew his face better than almost anyone, and she’d learned to look twice at strangers on her doorstep. “May I come in?”
“Of course, come in! I don’t think there are any spies about, but I can’t be sure of it.” She opened the door the rest of the way and stood aside as he hurried in.
“Thank you,” he answered. He took a seat on a stool by the fire, warming his hands. It was a raw, cold day even with the spring sunshine, and he’d been outside for most of it. Geran noticed that the doorjamb was splintered, and several pieces of furniture and crockery were missing; apparently the house had been broken into and searched not too long ago, but she’d tidied up since. “It seems you’ve had some more trouble with Marstel’s thugs. Are you all right?”
“Well enough. Selsha’s still at the Tresterfins, but Erstenwold’s is scraping by.” Mirya put a kettle on a hook by the fire, and sat down on the stool opposite his. “We’ve heard that the Hulmaster army’s on their way. Why aren’t you with your soldiers?”
“I left them in Kara’s hands so that I could slip into Hulburg and see to things here.”
“What in the world is more important than beating Marstel’s army?”
“Defeating Rhovann’s runehelms, and raising the loyalists against Marstel,” Geran answered. “Kara I trust to handle Marstel’s Council Guard without my help, but the runehelms I mean to deal with tonight. Sarth and Hamil are meeting me at the Burned Bridge at midnight to help with that. I was hoping that you could help me with the loyalists.”
“I thought you didn’t want me risking my neck in any such foolishness.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t, but I’ve got a feeling that you’re a little too stubborn to give it up simply because I asked you to.”
She gave him a wry smile. “You know me too well, Geran Hulmaster. As it so happens, I know a few stouthearted folk who might help. But I’ll warn you that many of my friends have had a hard time of it. It’s a wonder I’ve stayed out of Marstel’s prison.”
“I guessed as much.” He leaned forward. “If I do what I mean to tonight, Kara’ll have the Shieldsworn here by noon tomorrow. I want to raise the loyalists and seize all the strongpoints we can while the Council Guard’s busy.”
She frowned deeply, no doubt anticipating the fighting that would cause. “Can you really defeat Rhovann’s gray guardians?” she asked.
“I’ve got good reason to think so. But if I’m wrong, I suppose we’ll call off Kara’s attack and retire toward Thentia.” He paused, imagining what that would mean. “I guess that would be the end of it for our cause. One way or the other, this war will be decided tomorrow.”
“It’ll be hard on those of us who are left if you fail.”
“I know it. In fact … after we arrange things with the loyalists, I want you to go on up to Tresterfin’s tonight, and make ready to flee Hulburg if worse comes to worst. I’d like you and Selsha to stay there until everything’s decided. I think I can see you past the Council Guard roadblock and still meet Sarth and Hamil later on.”
She scowled stubbornly. “Because you don’t want to fret about me?”
“Yes, because I don’t want to fret about you.” Geran looked down at his hands. “It will make things easier for me if I know that you and your daughter are out of harm’s way. Please, stay at Tresterfin’s, and keep out of the fighting tomorrow.”
“Jarad would understand that I’ve just as much at stake in Hulburg as you do. How do you think I would feel, hiding in the countryside and wondering if everything and everyone I care for might not see out the day? How can I stand aside and let others fight my fight?”
“I’m not asking for Jarad. I’m asking for myself.” He reached out to take her hands in his, and looked into her face. For a moment he struggled with his old hesitation, his fear of hurting her again, but this time he did not stop himself from saying what he wanted to. “I love you, Mirya,” he said. “My heart’s full of you, and I don’t ever want to be parted from you again. Please-for me-promise that you’ll keep yourself safe through what’s to come?”
She stared at him, her face stricken. “Geran … don’t do this to me again,” she said weakly. “I can’t bear it. Besides, it’s Nimessa Sokol that you love.”
“No, it’s not, Mirya. It’s you.”
She rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes, damp with tears. “You’ve slept with her, haven’t you?”
He winced. I should have known she’d guess at that, he told himself. Mirya was far from stupid, after all. With a sigh, he looked her in the face and said, “Nimessa and I have been together, yes. It was a passion of the moment months ago, and it’s over now. She’s not the one I see when I close my eyes at night, or the one I worry for when I’m away, or the one whose words I want to hear when I’m troubled and alone. You are, Mirya. So please, I beg of you-stay out of Hulburg tomorrow, because my enemies may hurt you or Selsha to strike at me, and that would ruin me.”
“So I’m supposed to wait like a widow for news of whether you lived or died?” she demanded. “Can’t you understand how it tears the heart out of me to wonder where you are and whether you’re safe too? Because I do. Against every ounce of common sense I should have by now, I love you, and I’m a fool for it. Tonight you’re laying your heart at my feet, and I can’t say no to you. But where will you be tomorrow? What will it be that takes you away from me the day after? I’ve no strength to live like that.”
He fell silent for a long time. Somehow he’d never understood until this moment that she could love him, and still be unable to let herself give in to what she felt. Without any idea of what else he could say, he shook his head helplessly. “I’m not the man I once was, Mirya. I can’t love anyone but you. When we’re done with all this, I want to marry you. Will you have me for your husband?”
“Damn you, Geran Hulmaster, why would you say something like that?” Mirya drew a deep breath, and stood up to pace away from him. She said nothing more for a long time, as Geran watched her. Finally she turned back to meet his eyes again. “It’s some apology you owe me-not the least for that little bit about Nimessa Sokol-and I won’t be easy on you, but that’s for the day after tomorrow. This isn’t the time for either of us to be foolish. If we see out the next few days, we’ll talk of this later.”
He stood as well. “Later,” he said softly. She didn’t say no! he told himself. She hadn’t said yes, either, but she didn’t say no. “You’re right, Mirya.”