During all this time, though he asked her often, she never told him her name. Her background and future plans remained as vague and enigmatic as her smile, and yet she had a way of making these things seem like tri shy;fling details, barely worth the attentions of a man like Ariakas.
He had deduced that the food she gave him was a product of the same clerical powers that had allowed her to heal his wounds. But what god gave her such powers? The woman welcomed his new understanding, but when he pressed her for further details, she always coun shy;seled his patience.
"One day you will know all that you seek," she chided. "But for now, can you not wait a little more?"
"I'll wait as long as you command, Lady," he pledged. "I only hope that the bond we form here, now, will grow even stronger with the telling."
"It will. … It will become as steel," she promised softly. "But before you can be prepared to receive it, I must ask your word on something."
"Anything!" he declared in a loud voice and with a flourish. "You have but to name it, and it shall be my command!"
"This is not a command," she replied. "But a pledge that you give freely, and now."
He nodded, and waited for her to continue.
"You must promise me, Lord Ariakas, that at a time in the future, when I shall give you a single command, you must perform it immediately and without question. Will you make this promise?"
"With all my heart, Lady-when you name the task, I shall perform it straightaway, asking no questions. It is my solemn pledge to you and to the gods!"
"I thank you," she said softly, and he saw that her eyes were wet with tears. Then she nestled at his side, and for once she just wanted him to hold her, which he did for the remainder of that unusually dark night.
It seemed to Ariakas that his strength must atrophy during the long hibernation, but here she was adamant: he must perform the rigorous hauling of wood and peat every day, working until his body ached and his brow slicked with sweat. Never mind that sometimes they built the fires to raging blazes, throwing open all the doors and windows of the tower to gain the cooling ben shy;efit of the icy breeze.
All the time he kept the two-handed sword honed to a razor's edge, caressing the fine piece of steel with all the care in his veteran swordsman's hands. And always, after the food and the drink and the baths and the work, there was that great, soft bed. When he looked back on the tower in his later years, it would seem to Ariakas that he had spent most of that winter underneath the warm bearskin of the lady's quilts.
Chapter 9
Ariakas stayed with the lady for all of that long, cold winter. Vaguely he remembered his intention to make his way to Sanction, to purchase a palatial residence with the jew shy;eled locket, and then.. then, what? He couldn't imag shy;ine anything that would make a finer life than he had right here.
Spring came with wet storms and flooding streams, slowly stripping the snow from the peaks. Ariakas watched the rebirth of the mountains, and gradually a new yearning grew within him. He did not want to leave the lady, but the tower itself began to seem too constric-tive, too confining, now that the weather melted the walls of their icebound prison.
New summer came to the Khalkists. The slopes around the isolated keep, which Ariakas had thought the abode only of granite and quartz, exploded in a profusion of wildflowers. Soaring hawks and eagles swooped past the ramparts of the tower, while sheep and goats scam shy;pered onto the surrounding heights.
As the mountain fastness reluctantly opened its snow shy;bound gates to the rest of Krynn, Ariakas knew for cer shy;tain that his time in the tower was drawing to a close. A life in one place, however luxurious, would not content him-he needed more freedom than he could find here. And with the lady at his side, Ariakas knew he could be happy anywhere he journeyed.
On one remarkably warm day, the first day that could truly be called summerlike, he sought his lady in her chambers, after he had finished his fuel-hauling labor- labor that had not lightened in any way, despite the com shy;ing of spring.
"Lady, will you come away with me-to Sanction?" he asked when he found her resting on the soft divan.
She rose to a sitting position and regarded him with an expression akin to sadness.
"Do you really want to leave?" she inquired, a curious catch in her throat.
Ariakas fell to one knee. "My time with you has shown me the true value of life," he declared. "And if it meant leaving you behind, I would stay here with you forever. But think of it-you and I, together in that city of fierce splendor."
She sighed and lowered her eyes to the floor.
"I have money," he assured her, afraid that worries of poverty brought her hesitant response. "We could live like nobles there! And there's the treasure in the room below-if we took just a few of the largest stones we could trade them for another fortune! We could have all the wealth and power of monarchs!"
"But pray, Ariakas," she retorted. "Is that not how we
live here, now? Is there a king or a queen on all of Krynn who shares the freedoms, the pleasures and joys, that are our daily fare?"
"It is the matter of freedom," Ariakas admitted. "This tower has become our palace, but it has also become our prison! Don't you yearn, just a little bit, for the sounds of civilization, the press of a crowd or the bustle of a great marketplace?"
She shook her head, and he was startled at the raw honesty of the gesture. "No," she replied, "I don't. But I see now that you do, and that is what is important… to us both."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that it is time for you to remember your promise-do you?"
"Of course." His pledge, to perform a single task for her without question, remained fresh and vivid in his mind. "It's a pledge that I shall honor! Is it your com shy;mand that I remain here with you?" Though Sanction had begun to loom in his imagination, he would not have been heartbroken to agree.
"No-if only it could be that simple!"
Now he studied her in surprise, for he sensed that she was on the verge of tears. "What is it, Lady-what is your command?" he pressed. For the first time he felt a vague but growing disquiet. "Tell me, and it shall be done!"
"Tomorrow will be soon enough," she said, and there were tears welling in the corners of her eyes. "For now, tonight, you must hold me and love me."
That night passed, and with the dawn Ariakas remem shy;bered her words. "Now tell me," he begged. "What is your command? Tell me so that I can demonstrate my love!"
She rose and went to the great sword-the two-handed weapon he had claimed from the ogre he had slain his first night in the tower. After months of tender care, the blade was as keen as any on Krynn, the weight
sufficient to crush bone. Bringing the weapon to him, she extended the hilt toward his hand.
"My command to you, Lord Ariakas," she told him somberly, "is this: You are to take this blade, and with it you must slay me."
For a moment he reeled backward, certain that his ears had deceived him. The determined look in her eyes-it was no longer sadness, but instead a kind of grim accep shy;tance-told him that he had heard correctly.
"But-why? How can you ask this-the one thing I can't do!" he protested.
"You can, and you will!" she retorted. "Take it!"
Dumbly he took hold of the hilt, and she pulled the long scabbard away with a jerk of her hand. "Now, kill me!" she cried.
"No-tell me why!" he demanded.