"With the news we bring," Illvin continued, "I expect his troop will ride within the hour. I cringe to think what rumors have come to him by now of my brother's fate. There is much to do."
"Five gods speed you. Of your many burdens, I am one the less now. These people here will cosset me to distraction, if I know them." She added sternly, "You spare some care for yourself, too. Don't make me come after you again."
A grin ghosted across his mouth. "Would you follow me to the Bastard's hell, dear sorceress?"
"Without hesitation, now that I know the road."
He leaned across his saddlebow and caught her hand, and raised it to his lips. She gripped his hand in turn and bore it to her own lips, and nipped his knuckle secretly, which made his eyes glint. With reluctance, they released each other.
"Foix," Illvin called, "attend upon me. Your testimony is urgently required."
Dy Baocia turned eagerly to Foix. "Do I have you to thank, young man, for the rescue of my sister?"
"No, Provincar," said Foix, giving him a polite salute. "She rescued me."
Dy Baocia and dy Ferrej stared at him rather blankly. Ista became conscious of the bizarre picture they must present: Foix, gray with exhaustion, wearing Jokonan gear; Illvin a hollow-eyed, reeking scare-crow in the most elegant of court mourning; herself in rumpled white festival dress splashed with brown blood, barefoot, bruised, and scratched, her escaping hair completing the impression of general dementia.
"Look after the royina," Foix said to Ferda, "then come to Oby's tent. We have strange and great tales to tell." He clapped his brother on the shoulder and turned to follow Illvin.
Temporarily unmenaced by Ista's erratic steed, Ferda came to Demon's shoulder to help her down. Ista was dizzy with fatigue, but she stayed determinedly upright.
"See that this dreadful horse is well cared for. He bore Lord Arhys faithfully last night. Your brother rode in that great sortie as well, and endured capture and grievous use. He needs rest, if you can make him take it in this uproar. We have all of us been up since dawn yesterday, through flight and siege and... and worse. Lord Illvin lost a great deal of blood last night. Make sure he gets drink and food immediately, at the least." She added, after a thoughtful pause, "And if he attempts to ride into battle in his present state, knock him down and sit on him. Although I trust he has more sense."
As soon as her horse was led out of range by a soldier of Oby, dy Ferrej pounced on Ista, practically wresting her from Ferda. "Royina! We have been in terror for your safety!"
And not without cause, in truth. "Well, I am safe now." Soothingly, she patted his hand gripping her arm.
Lady dy Hueltar tottered up, arm in arm with Divine Tovia. "Ista, Ista, lovie!"
Dy Baocia was looking intently after Illvin. "Now that you are all delivered to each other, I think I'd better attend on dy Oby as well." He managed a distracted smile at Ista. "Yes, yes, good."
"Did you bring troops of your own, brother?" Ista asked.
"Yes, five hundred of horse, all that I could muster in a hurry when these people descended upon me waving your alarming letter."
"Then by all means, attend upon Oby. Your guard may well have a chance to earn the coin you pay them. Chalion owes the garrison of Castle Porifors... much, but certainly relief above all, and that as soon as may be."
"Ah." He collected Ferda and dy Ferrej and hurried off after the other men, half in curiosity, half, Ista suspected, in eagerness to escape his importunate entourage.
The problem of explaining her own adventures to them without sounding like a raving madwoman, she discovered, could be put off— possibly indefinitely—by asking after their own journey. A mere query of "How did you come here so timely?" induced an answer that ran on until they reached dy Baocia's tents, and longer. The five hundred of horse, Ista found, had been trailed by what seemed a hundred more servants, grooms, and maids, in support of the dozen ladies from the courts of both Valenda and Taryoon who had accompanied Lady dy Hueltar on her self-appointed mission to bring Ista home. Dy Ferrej,
more or less in charge of shifting them all, was justly punished, Ista decided. That he had moved them such a distance in a week, instead of a month, was a near miracle in itself, and her respect for him, never low, rose another notch.
Ista cut though a plethora of plans by requesting a wash, food, and bed, in that order; Divine Tovia, always more practical than most of Ista's attendants, and with an eye to the blood on her gown, backed her up. The elderly physician managed to run off all but two maids, her own acolyte-assistant, and Lady dy Hueltar from the tent where she guided Ista for a bath and treatment. Ista had to admit, it was both comfortable and comforting to have those familiar hands about her, applying salve and bandages to her hurts. Tovia's curved sewing needle, too, was very fine and sharp, and her hands were quick about the wincing task of mending flesh where it was required.
"What in the world are these bruises?" Divine Tovia inquired.
Ista craned to see the back of her own thigh where the physician was pointing. Five dark purple spots were spaced around it. Her lips curved up, and she twisted about to spread her own fingers between them.
"Five gods, Ista," cried Lady dy Hueltar in horror, "who has dared to handle you so?"
"Those are from... yesterday. When Lord Illvin rescued me from the Jokonan column on the road. What excellent long fingers he does have! I wonder if he plays any musical instruments. I shall have to find out."
"Is Lord Illvin that odd tall fellow who rode in with you?" asked Lady dy Hueltar suspiciously. "I must say, I did not like the very forward way he kissed your hand."
"No? Well, he was pressed for time. I shall make him practice, later, until his technique improves."
Lady dy Hueltar looked offended, but Divine Tovia, at least, snorted a little.
Ista was laid down in a tent under a guard of ladies, but rose again to peek out, despite her nightgown, at the sound of many horses thundering out of the camp. It was only late afternoon; on this long summer day Oby's cavalry would be descending on Porifors with hours of light still left for their work. The timing, Ista thought, was excellent. Maximum confusion, disorder, and dismay would have spread through the Jokonan forces from the dire events of noon, and the chances that competent leadership had yet reemerged—especially from the habits of sullen mindless obedience extracted by Joen—were slight.
She let herself be coaxed back to bed by those who loved her. Though the Ista they thought they loved, she supposed, was an imaginary one, a woman who existed only in their own minds, part icon, part habit.
The reflection did not depress her unduly, now that she knew someone who loved the Ista who was real. She fell asleep thinking of him.
ISTA AWOKE FROM UGLY DREAMS NOT, SHE THOUGHT, ENTIRELY HER own, to the sound of female voices arguing.
"Lady Ista wants to sleep, after her ordeal," said Lady dy Hueltar firmly. "I will not have her troubled further."
"No," said Liss in a puzzled tone, "the royina will want the report from Porifors. We started before dawn to bring it to her as swiftly as we could."
Ista lumbered up from her sheets. "Liss!" she cried. "In here!" It appeared she had slept the short summer night through; it sufficed.
"Now see what you've done!" said Lady dy Hueltar in aggravation.
"What?" Liss's bafflement was genuine; she had not Ista's years of training in deciphering her now-senior lady-in-waiting's oblique locutions. Ista translated it handily as I didn't want to travel again today, and now I'll have to, drat you, girl.