For she had a part in that memory. I had bedded down that night a whole man (if one such as I might ever be termed “whole”). Then during the late hours, I had awakened, that exciting, demanding “otherness” within me—making me free, unfettered. Some essential part of myself heretofore always bound, constrained, had been loosed from all chains. Joisan had been there, shaking me, her hair unbound, her breasts—molded beneath her thin shift—rising and falling with her quick breathing, as though she feared for me. And then—Recalling that moment, my hands twisted savagely in the tough cloth of my pack. Memory beyond that was tattered, hazy, as though seen through thick smoke or fog. Still I could not deny that my hands and my lips had sought her flesh, as, freed by that other I feared was a Dark One, I had fiercely taken her—my gentle lady, to be used so!
I swallowed harshly. Beast my hooves branded me, and beast I had been that night. I must hold that shameful memory ever, lest such could happen again.
Though truly I had not touched her since—had feared even to meet her eyes, lest I read revulsion, rightful and just, in them. If Joisan turned from me, then what had I left?
Many times I had thought I must speak, talk to her of all King unsaid between us. Strive as I might, I could never bring myself to such openness, fearing the answer she now had every right to make. Always Joisan had accepted my physical differences, even pretending that she found me good to look upon, following me uncomplaining through hardships and rootless wandering, remaining my only solace and friend.
Yet our companionship could not have been easy for her, comely as she is. I glanced at her covertly. Despite her exhaustion, now plain to read, any eyes would find her lair, with her soft red-brown hair, blue-green eyes, that slender, yet rounded, body.
Many times I had watched men’s eyes follow her appreciatively as we traveled, fancying I could mark their surprise that she journeyed with one such as I. After all the troubles she had faced and endured as my wife, who could say what act might prove too much for even her gallant nature to face?
“I wonder how Acar fares?” Her words startled me out of thoughts I could never entirely subdue.
“Acar?” The name meant nothing, and yet there was a soft smile about her lips, stirring in me a warmth of feeling new to me.
“Utia and Raney’s son, born last night. Zwyie and I brought him into this world, with Gunnora’s help, and a hard-won battle that was.” Joisan rested her head on her raised knees, rubbing wearily at the nape of her neck.
A child—what would it mean to see blood of one’s own blood, bone of one’s bone, the sharing? Oh, by all the Powers of the Light, such a sharing! I flinched within and that spark of warmth died. What right had I to long for such? What did it matter that a fisherman had now a son, and I, once the heir of a powerful lord, had no prospect for even a home, much less a child?
I put aside that thought, realizing that this woman who had made, uncomplaining, a day’s march long enough to tire a seasoned liegeman had done so with no sleep for nigh on two days!
“Then you did not sleep last night?” Hesitantly, awkwardly, lest I give offense by my touch, I put an arm around her shoulders. “Why did you not say so? It is time to camp anyway, and you must rest. Can you go on to the top of the slope? A better site may lie beyond.”
She raised her head a fraction, smiled a little wryly. “Assuredly, my lord. I told you three years ago that you could not leave me behind. Have I not proven that promise more times than I care to remember?”
I shouldered both packs in spite of her protest, and we climbed the remaining slope. At the crest we stood together looking out over the countryside beyond.
Ahead, perhaps a half day’s journey tomorrow, lay foothills, though these did not rise into heights such as separated Arvon and High Hallack. Small stands of fir and pine studded the rolling hillsides, and I marked the silver flash of a stream not far below us. I pointed to a thicket near that rivulet. “There. Running water, wood for a small fire—a good spot.”
The sun had set as we completed our camp for the night. Overhead the stars alternately disappeared then blazed as clouds streamed by. Here in this pocket of a valley we were sheltered from the wind driving those, our tiny fire making a brave show against all shadows. I had strung one of the fish-scale blankets from Anakue on a rope, anchoring it to two saplings for shelter should rain come.
We ate, then I settled back against my bedroll, feeling the tug and ache in my leg muscles—I had grown soft while we lodged in the fisher-village. Joisan reached for her bag of simples and began sifting through them. Holding a handful of dried sprigs, and what looked like an ordinary spool, she began chanting softly.
What do you, my lady?” My voice in the quiet of the night was again harsher than I had intended. She did not look fully at me, but there was a determined set to her dun.
I am going to set safeguards upon this place, that we may sleep sound.”
You know that I wish no tie with Powers, Joisan. It is best not to trouble so. Like draws to like. Even though what you summon may be of the Light, still even a spark of such may stand as beacon for the Dark.”
Using herbs and some red thread to call up a protector charm is hardly high sorcery, Kerovan.” She did not look at me as she put away what she held, a frown line showing between her brows, though she offered me no argument.
Now I wondered just how much of such lore Joisan had learned during our years of roving. When I met her for the first time, she was already no ordinary maid, possessing courage and sense usually known only by one far beyond her years. Yet I also knew she was completely of humankind, bearing no taint of that other blood so evident in me… Was it possible that one such as she might learn to wield true Power? Could encounters with forces beyond those known to humankind have altered her, so that now she was indeed one to command Power in her own right?
The thought made me shift restlessly, alarmed. I knew that Joisan had learned much about simples, herbs, and healing from her aunt, Dame Math, and from the ancient Past-Abbess of Norstead Abbey. I had watched her seek out Wisewomen in each of the villages and settlements of Arvon we passed through. But I had never before thought of my lady as one to hold Power within her. … I had always linked what Power I had seen evidenced with the crystal gryphon… and that was lost to us, now… lost in the struggle against Galkur…
My thoughts had circled treacherously back to those that had plagued me for so long. I moved to feed the fire, then noticed that Joisan, whom I had-believed asleep, was now sitting bolt upright on her bedroll. In the darkness her eyes were naught but dark smudges in the vague blur of her face. As the flames leaped brighter, I could make out her perfect stillness, as though she listened. When I made to stretch out beside her on my bedroll, her hand shot out unerringly, grasping my shoulder. I could feel the bite of her nails through my jerkin.
“Do not move.” Her voice was a drifting breath against my cheek. Alarmed now, I reached for her hand, put my other to sword hilt.
“What is it?” My voice was as soft as hers had been. Through the contact of our hands, something was happening, flowing from her into me, awakening a sense I realized now had lain dormant since our fight with the Dark One. It was as though I could see a shadow drifting down the slope toward us, but that sight came not through my body’s eyes, but from that other sense.
Cold, that darkness was, bitter cold, carrying with it a stench like carrion. In my ears arose a droning whine, and under my hooves a thudding vibration shook my body. Not even knowing why I did so, I drew naked blade across my knees so it lay between us and that horror.