It is the one memory I have of Marjorie which is not all joy. I took her savagely, without tenderness, trying to slake the burning need in me. She met me with equal violence, hating it equally, both of us gripped with that uncontrollable savage desperation. It was fierce and animal‑no! Not animal! Animals meet cleanly, driven only by the life‑force in them, knowing nothing of this kind of dark lust. There was no innocence in this, no love, only raw violence, insatiable, a bottomless pit of hell. It was hell, all the hell either of us would ever need to know. I heard her sobbing helplessly and knew I was weeping, too, with shame and self‑hatred. Afterward we did not sleep.
Chapter TWENTY‑ONE
Even at Nevarsin, Regis thought, it had never snowed so hard, or so persistently. His pony picked its way deliberately along, following in the steps of Danilo's mount, as mountain horses were trained to do. It was snowing again.
He wouldn't mind any of it, he thought, the riding, the cold or the lack of sleep, if he could see properly, or keep the world straight under him.
The threshold sickness had continued off and on, more on than off in the last day or so. He tried to ignore Danilo's anxious looks, his concern for him. There wasn't anything Danilo could do for him, so the less said about it, the better.
But it was intensely unpleasant. The world kept thinning away at irregular intervals and dissolving. He had had no attacks as bad as the one he'd had at Thendara or on the way north, but he seemed to live in mild chronic disorientation all the time. He didn't know which was worse, but suspected it was whichever form he happened to have at the time.
Danilo waited for him to draw even on the path. "Snowing already, and it's hardly midafternoon. At this rate it will take us a full twelve days to reach Thendara, and well lose the long start we had."
The more quickly they reached Thendara, the better. He knew a message must get through, even if Lew and Marjorie were recaptured. So far there was no sign of pursuit But Regis knew, cursing his own weakness, that he could not take much more of the constant exertion, the long hours in the saddle and the constant sickness.
Earlier that day they had passed through a small village, where they had bought food and grain for the horses. Perhaps they could risk a fire tonight‑if they could find a place to build it!
"Anything but a hay‑barn," Danilo agreed. The last night they had slept in a barn, sharing warmth with several cows
and horses and plenty of dry hay. The animals had made it a warm place to sleep, but they could not risk a fire or even a light, with the tinder‑dry hay, so they had eaten nothing but hard strips of cured meat and a handful of nuts.
"We're in luck," Danilo said, pointing. Away to the side of the road was one of the travel‑shelters built generations ago, when Aldaran bad been the seventh Domain and this road had been regularly traveled in all seasons. The inns had all been abandoned, but the travel‑shelters, built to stand for centuries, were still habitable, small stone cabins with attached sheds for horses and proper amenities for travelers.
They dismounted and stabled their horses, hardly speaking, Regis from weariness, Danilo from reluctance to intrude on him. Dani thought he was angry, Regis sensed; he knew he should tell his friend he was not angry, just tired. But he was reluctant to show weakness. He was Hastur: it was for him to lead, to take responsibility. So he drove himself relentlessly, the effort making his words few and sharp, his voice harsh. It only made it worse to know that if he had given Danilo the slightest encouragement, Dani would have waited on him hand and foot and done it with pleasure. He wasn't going to take advantage of Danflo's hero‑worship. The Comyn had done too much of that.... The horses settled for the night, Danilo carried the saddlebags inside. Pausing on the threshold, he said, "This is the interesting time, every night. When we see what the years have left of whatever place we've found to stay.**
"It's interesting, all right," Regis said dryly. "We never know what well find, or who'll share our beds with us." One night they had had to sleep in the stables, because a Jiest of deadly scorpion‑ants had invaded the shelter itself.
"Um, yes, a scorpion‑ant is a lower form of life than I care to go to bed with," Danilo said lightly, "but tonight we seem to be in luck." The interior was bare and smelled dusty and unaired, but there was an intact fireplace, a pair of benches to sit on and a heavy shelf built into the wall so they need not sleep on the floor at the mercy of spiders or rodents. Danilo dumped the saddlebags on a bench. "I saw some dead branches in the lee of the stable. The snow won't have soaked them through yet. There may not be enough to keep a fire all night, but we can certainly cook some hot food."
Regis sighed. "Ill come and help you get them in." He opened the door again on the snow‑swept twilight; the world toppled dizzily around him and he clung to the door. "Regis, let me go, you're ill again." "I can manage."
"Damn it!" Suddenly Danilo was angry. "Will you stop pretending and playing hero with me? How the hell will I manage if you fall down and can't get up again? It's a lot easier to drag a couple of armfuls of dry branches in, than try to carry you through the snowl Just stay in here, will your pretending playing hero. Was that how Danilo saw his attempt to carry his own weight? Regis said stiffly, "I wouldn't want to make things harder for you. Go ahead."
Danilo started to speak but didn't. He set his chin and strode, stiff‑necked into the snowy darkness. Regis started to
unload the saddlebags but became so violently dizzy that he
had to sit down on one of the stone benches, holding on with
both hands.
He was a dead weight on Danilo, he thought. Good for nothing but to hold him back. He wondered how Lew was faring in the mountains. He'd hoped to draw pursuit away from him, that hadn't worked either. He felt like huddling on ; the bench, giving way to the surges of sickness, but remem‑;bered Javanne's advice: move around, fight it. He hauled ;: himself to his feet, got his flint‑and‑steel and the wisps of dry >‑ hay they had kept for tinder, and knelt before the fireplace, /clearing away the remnants of the last travelers' fire. How J many years ago was that one built? he wondered. t Wind, and cold slashes of snow blew through the open ''"doorway; Danilo, laden with branches, staggered inside, :, Shoved them near the fireplace, went quickly out again. Regis ..tried to separate the driest branches to lay a fire, but could not steady his hands enough to manipulate the small mechanical flint‑and‑steel, fed with resinous oil, which kept the spark alive. He laid the device on the bench and sat with his head in his hands, feeling completely useless, until Danilo, bent under another load of branches, came hi and kicked the door shut behind him.
"My father calls that a lazy man's load," he said cheerfully, "carrying too much because you're too lazy to go back ' for another. It ought to keep the cold out awhile. Anyway, I'd rather be cold here than warm in Aldaran's royal suite, damn him." He strode to where Regis had laid the fire, kneeling to spark it alight with Regis's lighter. "Bless the man who invented this gadget. Lucky you have one."
It had been part of Gabriel's camping‑kit that Javanne had given him, along with the small cooking pots they carried. Dani looked at Regis, huddled motionless and shivering on the bench. He said, "Are you very angry with me?" Silently, Regis shook his head.
Danilo said haltingly, "I don't want to ... to offend you. But I'm your paxman and I have to do what's best for you. Even if it's not always what you want."
"It's all right, Dani. I was wrong and you were right," Regis said. "I couldn't even light the fire."
"Well, I don't mind lighting it. Certainly not with that gadget of yours. There's water piped in the corner, there, if the pipes aren't frozen. If they are, we'll have to melt snow. Now, what shall we cook?"