All the long road to Caer Donn, it continued to trouble her. When she hunted meat for the sentry-birds, she thought of her laran and feared to use the power for evil, so that sometimes she let game escape them and was roundly scolded by the men. She did use her awareness to seek out dead things in hill and forest which she could use to feed the birds - they had no further use for their bodies, surely it could not be wrong to use a dead creature to feed a living one. She felt as if she wanted to close up her new skill where it would never be touched again, though she had to use it in handling the birds - surely it could not be wrong to show her fondness for them? Or was it, since she used it to keep them quiet for her own convenience?
There were times when she tried to handle them without calling on the MacAran Gift which she now knew to be laran, and when they screamed and rebelled, Dom Carlo demanded, "What's gotten into you, youngster? Do the work you're paid to do, and keep those birds quiet!" She had to use her laran then, and again suffer the conflicts as to whether she did right or wrong.
She wished she could talk to Dom Carlo; he had laran and had perhaps suffered some of these same worries when he was her age and learning to use it. Was this what Ruyven had had to overcome? No wonder he fled from a horse-training ranch and took refuge behind Tower walls! She found herself envying Darren, who had none of the MacAran Gift and though he feared and hated hawks and horses, at least he was not tempted to meddle with their minds in order to show his power over them! She could not talk to Caryl, he was only a child, and used his power with pleasure, as she had always used it since she found out she had special skill with horses and used it in training them. And whenever she tried to eat fresh-killed game, it seemed that she could feel the life and the blood of the dead animal pounding through her mind, and she would gag and refuse to eat; she made her meals of porridge and fruit and bread, and was fiercely hungry in the bitter, aching cold of the mountain trails, but even when Dom Carlo commanded her to eat, she could not, and once when he stood over her until she reluctantly swallowed part of a haunch of the wild chervine they had killed for their meal, she felt such terrible revulsion that she went away and vomited it up again.
Orain saw her coming back from the thicket, white and shaking, and came over to where she was, with fumbling hands, trying to cut up offal and remainder of the chervine for the sentry-birds. It was hard to find gravel in this snowy country, and so she had to mix skin and slivers of bone with the meat, or they would have further trouble in digesting. He said, "Here, give me that," and carried the mess over to the birds where they were fastened on their blocks, safely above the snow. He came back leaving them to tear into it, and said, "What's the matter, lad? Off your feed, are you? Carlo means well, you know, he just was worried that you weren't eating enough for this rotten climate."
"I know that," she said, not looking at him.
"What's ailing you, youngster? Anything I can do to help?"
She shook her head. She did not think anyone could help. Unless she could somehow talk to her father, who must somehow have fought this battle himself in his youth, or how could he have come to terms with his own Gift? He might hate the very word laran and forbid anyone to use it in his hearing, but he possessed the thing, whatever he chose to call it or not to call it. With a sudden, homesick force, she remembered Falconsward, the face of her father, loving and kindly, and then his contorted, wrathful face as he beat her. . . . She put her face in her hands, trying desperately to stifle a fit of sobs which must surely reveal her as a girl. But she was so tired, so tired, she could hardly keep back her tears....
Orain's hand was gentle on her shoulder. "There, there, son, never mind - I'm not one to think tears all that unmanly. You're ill and tired, that's all. Bawl if you want to, I'll not be telling on you." He gave her a final reassuring pat, and moved back to the fire. "Here; drink this, it'll settle your stomach," he said, sifting a few of his cherished herbs into a cup of hot water, and shoving the mug into her hand. The drink was aromatic, with a pleasant faint bitterness, and indeed made her feel better. "If you can't eat meat just now, I'll bring you some bread and fruit, but you can't go hungry in this cold." He gave her a chunk of hard bread, liberally spread with the fat of the chervine; Romilly was so hungry that she gulped it down, chewed on the handful of fruits he gave her as they were settling the horses for the night. He spread their blanket rolls side by side; Caryl had none, so he had been sleeping in Romilly's cloak, tucked in her arms. As she was pulling off her boots to sleep, she felt an ominous dull pain in the pit of her belly, and began secretly to count on her fingers; yes, it had been forty days since she had escaped from Rory's cabin, she must once again conceal this periodic nuisance! Damn this business of being a woman! Lying awake between Caryl and Orain, still shivering, she wondered grimly how she could manage to conceal it in this climate. Fortunately it was cold enough that nobody undressed at all in the camp, and even to sleep piled on all the clothes and blankets they had. Romilly had been sleeping, not only in the fur-lined cloak Orain had given her, but in the rough old one she had taken from Rory's cabin, rolling herself up in them both, with Caryl in her arms.
She must think. She had no spare rags, or garments which could be made into them. There was a kind of thick moss, which grew liberally all through the higher elevations, here as well as at Falconsward; she had seen it, but paid no attention - though she knew the poorer women, who had no rags to spare, used this moss for babies' diapers, packing them in it, as well as for their monthly sanitary needs. Romilly's fastidious soul felt a certain disgust, but it would be easier to bury moss in the snow than to wash out rags in this climate. Tomorrow she would find some of it; here in snow country it would, at least, not be covered with mud or dirt and need not be washed. What a nuisance it was, to be a woman!
It was so bitterly cold that they all rolled close together, like dogs sleeping in heaps; when the camp was awakening in the morning, Alaric jeered, as Orain unrolled himself from Caryl and Romilly, "Hey, man, are you running a nursery for the children?" But Orain's presence was comforting to her, and, she felt, to Caryl as well; he was gentle and fatherly, and she was not afraid of him. In fact, if it came to necessity, she did not doubt she could confide in Orain without real danger; he might be shocked at finding she was a girl in this rough country and climate, but he would not make that kind of trouble for her, any more than her own father or brothers. Somehow she knew, beyond all doubt, that he was not the kind of man ever to ravish or offer any offense to any woman.
She went away to attend to her personal needs in private - she had been jeered at, a bit, for this, they said she was as squeamish as a woman, but she knew they only thought it was because she was a cristoforo; they were known to be prudish and modest about such things. She was sure none of them suspected, and Caryl, who know - and Dom Carlo, who, she felt, knew perfectly well - chose to say nothing.
But she could keep her secret as long as she could. When she came to Caer Donn, it might not be so easy as in Nevarsin to find work as hawk-keeper or horse-trainer, but certainly it could be done, and certainly Orain, or Dom Carlo himself, could give her a good reference as a willing and skilled worker.
She still felt a certain revulsion against eating meat, though she knew it was foolish - it was in the way of nature that some animals were prey to others, but though she knew the
intense immediacy of her revulsion was beginning to fade a little, she still preferred porridge and bread to the meat, and Carlo, (she wondered if Orain had spoken to him about it?) no longer urged her to eat it, but simply gave her a somewhat larger ration of porridge and fruit. Alaric jeered at her once, and Dom Carlo curtly bade him be silent.
"The less there is of meat for him, the more for the rest of us, man. Let him have such food as he likes best, and you do the same! If all men were alike, you would long since have been meat for the banshee; we owe it to him to let him have his way."
They had been, she thought, nine days on the road from Nevarsin when, circling high above them, they saw a bird winging from the range of hills. Romilly was feeding the sentry-birds, and they strained at their jesses as the small bird flew down into their camp; then she saw Dom Carlo standing motionless, his arms extended, his face the blank, silent stare of laran-focused thoughts. The bird darted down; alighted and stood quivering on his hand.
"A message from our folk in Caer Donn," Carlo said, sought for the capsule under the wing and tore it open, scanning the finely-written lines. Romilly stared - she knew of message-birds who could fly back to their own loft across trackless wilds, but never of one which could seek out a particular man whose whereabouts were unknown to the sender!
Carlo raised his head, smiling broadly.
"We must make haste to Caer Donn, men," he cried out, "A tenday hence we will gather beneath Aldaran, and Carolin will be at the head of the great army which is massing there, to march on the lowlands. Now let Rakhal look to himself, my faithful fellows!"
They cheered, and Romilly cheered too. Only Caryl was silent, lowering his head and biting his lip. Romilly started to ask what was wrong, then held her tongue. He could hardly rejoice at an army massed against his father, who was Rakhal's chief advisor. It would be unfair to expect it Yet she had seen that he loved Dom Carlo as a kinsman - in fact, she was sure they were kinsmen, though perhaps distant; she had heard that all of the lowland Hasturs were kin, and she was sure now, recalling Carlo's red hair, the look he had which reminded her of Alderic, that he was one of the Hastur-kin-folk, and higher in rank than any of his men knew. If Orain, who was the king's foster-brother, treated him with such deference, he must be noble indeed.
They rode into Caer Donn late in the evening, and Dom Carlo turned, just inside the gates of the city, to Orain.
"Take the men and the birds to a good inn," he said, "and command all my faithful people the best dinner money can buy; they have had a hard journey and paid dearly for their following of the exiles. You know where I must be going."
"Aye, I know," said Orain, and Carlo smiled faintly and gripped his hand. He said, "A day will come-"
"All the Gods grant it," said Orain, and Carlo rode away through the streets of the city.
If she had never seen Nevarsin, Romilly might have thought Caer Donn a big city. High on the side of the mountain above the town, a castle rose, and Orain said as they rode, "The home of Aldaran of Aldaran. The Aldarans are Hastur-kin from old days, but they have no part in lowland strife. Yet blood-ties are strong."
"Is the king there?" asked Romilly, and Orain smiled and drew a deep breath of relief. "Aye, we are back in country where that beast Rakhal is not admired, and Carolin is still true king of these lands," he said. "And the birds we've brought will be in the hands of the lung's leroni in a few days. Pity you've not the training of a laranzu, lad, you have the touch. You've done Carolin's men a service, believe me, and the king will not be ungrateful when he comes to his throne."
He looked down the streets. "Now, if memory fails me not, I recall an inn near the city wall, where our birds may be housed and our beasts fed, and that good meal Carlo commanded may be found," he said, "Let's go and find it."
As they rode through the narrow street, Caryl pushed close to his side.
"Lord Orain, you - the vai dom pledged me I should be sent back to my father under a truce-flag. Will he honor that pledge? My father-" his voice broke, "My father must be wild with fear for me."
"Good enough!" Alaric said harshly, "Let him feel some o'what I feel, with my son and his mother dead - at your father's hands-"
Caryl stared at him with his eyes wide. Finally he said, "I did not recognize you, Master Alaric; now I recall you. You wrong my father, sir; he did not kill your son, he died of the bald fever; my own brother died that same summer, and the lung's healer-women tended them both as carefully. It was sad that your son died away from his father and mother, but on my honor, Alaric, my father had no hand in your son's death."
"And what of my poor wife, who flung herself from the window to death when she heard her son had died far away from her-"
"I did not know that," Caryl said, and there were tears in his eyes, "My own mother was beside herself with grief; when my brother died. I was afraid to be out of my mother's sight for fear she would do herself some harm in her grief. I am sorry - oh, I am sorry, Master Alaric," he said, and flung his arms around the man, "If my father had known this, I am sure he would not pursue you, nor blame you for your quarrel with him!"
Alaric swallowed; he stood without moving in the boy's embrace and said, "God grant my own son would have defended me like to that. I canna' fault you for your loyalty to your father, my boy. I'll help Lord Orain see ye get back safe to him."
Orain heaved a great sigh of relief. He said, "Well not send you into danger in the lowlands without an army behind you, Alaric; ye'll stay here with the army. But here in this city is a hostel of the Sisterhood of the Sword; my cousin is one of the swordswomen, and we can hire two or three of these women to go south to Thendara and take the lad safe there. I'll speak to Dom Carlo about it, Caryl, and perhaps you can leave day after tomorrow. And perhaps a message-bird could be sent to your father at Hali, to tell him you are well and safe, and to be escorted safe back to him."
"You are kind to me, Lord Orain," said Caryl simply. "I have enjoyed this trip, but I do not like to think of my father's grief, or my mother's if she knows I am not safe in Nevarsin where she thought me."
"I'll see to it, soon as we reach the inn," said Orain, and led the way toward a long, low building, with stables at the back, and a sign with a crudely-painted hawk. "Here at the Sign of the Hawk we can dine well and rest after that miserable trip through the snows. And how many of you would like to order a bath, as well? There are hot springs in the city and a bath-house not ten doors away."
That roused another cheer, but Romilly thought, a little glumly, that it did her no good; she certainly could not risk a man's bath-house, though she felt grubby and longed to be clear! Well, there was no help for it. She saw the horses and chervines properly stabled, cared for the sentry-birds, and after washing her face and hands as well as she could, went in for the good meal Orain had commanded in the inn. He had ordered rooms for them all to sleep, saying that he had taken the best room the inn offered for young Caryl, as his rank demanded.
"And you are yourself welcome to share my own quarters, Rumal, lad."
"It is kind of you," Romilly said warily, "but I will stay in the stable with my charges, lest the sentry-birds be restless in a strange place."
Orain shrugged. "As you will," he said. "But another thing I would ask you over dinner."
"What you wish, sir."
They went in to the dining-room; there was fresh-baked bread and baked roots, plump and golden, as well as some roasted birds and a stew of vegetables; everyone ate hugely after the long spartan fare of the travelling, and Orain had commanded plenty of wine and beer as well. But he refused Caryl wine, in a kind and fatherly way, and frowned at Romilly when she would have taken her second mug of it
"You know very well you've no head for it," he scolded, "Waiter! Bring the boys some cider with spiceroot in it."
"Aw," Alaric teased good-naturedly, for once, "Old Mammy Orain, will ye put them to bed and sing 'em a lullabye, while the rest of us are all off to soak out our long travel in the bath-house?"
"Nay," said Orain, "I'm for the baths with the rest of you."
"And for a house of women soon after that," called out one of the man, taking a great spoonful of the stewed fruits that had finished the meal, "I haven't looked at a woman for Zandru knows how long!"
"Aye, and I mean to do more than look," called another one, and Orain said, "Do what you like, but this is ill talk before the children."
"I hope for a bath too," said Caryl, but Orain shook his head.
"The bath-house here in the city is not like the one in the monastery, my boy, but a place of resort for whores and such like as well; I can take care of myself, but it's no place for a respectable lad of your years. I'll order you a tub of water in your own room, where you may wash and soak and then to bed and rest well. You too," he said, scowling faintly at Romilly, "You're young for the rough folk at the bath-house; see you that the lad here washes his feet well, and then call for a bath for yourself; you'd be too easy prey for the lowlife folk who hang about such places, as much so as if you were a young and respectable maiden."
"Why coddle the boy?" demanded Alaric, "Let him see something of life, as no doubt you did when you were of his years, Lord Orain!"
Orain scowled. "What I may have done is not to the point; the boy's in my charge, and so is Lyondri's son here, and it's not fit a Hastur should go without service. You stay here, Rumal, and look after the lad, see him into his bed. You'll get a bath to yourself then."
"Stand up to him for your rights, lad, you don't have to be treated like a child," said one of the men, who had drunk more than enough wine, "You're no servant to the Hastur-pup!"
Romilly said, relieved at this solution, "Indeed I would as soon stay here; I am a cristoforo and have no taste for such adventures."
"Oh ah, a cristoforo bound to the Creed of Chastity," jeered Alaric, "Well, I did my best for ye, boy, if ye'd rather be a little boy hiding behind the skirts of the holy Bearer of Burdens, that's for you to say! Come along! Who's for the bath-house, men?"
One after another, they rose and went, not too steadily, into the street. Romilly took Caryl upstairs and sent for the promised bath; when the serving-woman brought it, she would have bathed him as she had done with Rael, but he turned on her, his face pink.
"I won't say anything before the men," he said, "but I know you're a girl, and I'm too big for my mother or my sister, even, to wash me, and I can bathe myself! Go away, mistress Romilly. I'll have them send you a bath too, shall I? Lord Orain is away and doubtless hell be at the baths half the night, he may be looking for a woman too - see, I'm old enough to know about such things. So you can bathe in his room and go to your own bed afterward."
Romilly could not help but laugh. She said "As you will, my lord."
"And don't make fun of me!"
"I wouldn't dream of it," Romilly said, trying to keep her face straight. "But Lord Orain charged me with the task of seeing that you wash your feet well."
"I have been bathing myself in the monastery for more than a year," said Caryl, exasperated, "Go away, mistress Romilly, before my bath water gets cold, and I will have them send a bathtub to you in Lord Orain's room."
Romilly was grateful for this solution - indeed she had longed for a hot bath, and went to the stable for her saddlebags while the bath - women were hauling the wooden tub into the room and pouring out steaming water into it, laying out great fluffy towels and a wooden cask of soapweed. One of the bath-women lingered, widening her eyes at Romilly and saying in a suggestive voice, "Would you like me to stay and help you, young sir? Indeed, it would be a pleasure to wash your feet and scrub your back, and for half a silver bit I will stay as long as you like, and share your bed as well."
Romilly had to struggle again to hide a smile; this was embarrassing. Was she such a handsome young man as that, or was the woman only looking for her silver bit? She shook her head and said, "I am tired with riding; I want to wash and sleep."
"Shall I send you a masseur, then, young sir?"
"No, no, nothing - go away and leave me to bathe," Romilly said sternly, but she gave the woman a small coin and thanked her for her trouble. "You can come and take the tub away in an hour."
Assured at last of privacy, she stripped and climbed into the tub, scrubbing herself vigorously with soapweed, lying back in the hot water with a sigh of luxurious content. She had last washed herself all over in the old woman's cabin, when she was pretending she would be married to Rory. At Nevarsin she had washed as best she could, but had not, of course, dared to use the bath-house in the monastery, nor had she dared to try and find a woman's bath-house in Nevarsin, though there must have been some of them, lest she be seen coming from the place.
What a splendid thing a bath was! She lay in the hot water, soaking and enjoying it, till the water finally cooled and she got out, dried her hair carefully, and put on her cleanest underclothing. She looked longingly at Orain's bed, spread up for him by the maids; no doubt he was finished at the bathhouse and had found a woman somewhere for the night, and this good bed would be wasted, while he slept in some street-woman's bed. She realized that she felt a twinge of jealousy - she remembered her dream, where Orain had caressed her, sleeping, and she had been happy that he should touch her - did she really envy the unknown woman in whose bed he was spending this night?
Well, she should ring for the bath-woman to take away the tub and go to her own quarters in the stables; there was plenty of hay to keep her warm, and blankets, and she could even command hot bricks and more blankets if she wished. She pulled on her breeches and rang for the bath-woman, and went, knocking softly at Caryl's door. He was in bed and already half asleep, but he sat up in bed to hug her as if she were his own sister, wishing her a good night, and slid down, asleep already in the big bed. It was a big bed, big enough for three or four, she was tempted to lie down and sleep beside the child, they had slept curled up together often enough on the road. But she realized that he would be embarrassed if he found her there in the morning - he was just old enough to be aware that she was a woman. It would not matter so much, she thought, yawning and reluctant to go out to the stable, if she lay down to sleep a little - no doubt Orain would not return home before morning, and if he did he would be so drunk that he would not notice her there, nor care whether she was a boy or a dog; he would never know she was a woman, if he had travelled with her all this time and not known, and he had none of the inconvenient laran which had betrayed her to Caryl and perhaps to Dom Carlo.
She would sleep here a little, at least - she could wake and be away to the stable if she heard Orain coming up the stairs. The bed looked so good, after all this time on the road. The bath-woman, when she took the tub away, had warmed the sheets with a pan of hot coals, and they smelled fresh and inviting. Romilly hesitated no more, but lay down in her tunic and drawers, pulling up the covers and drowsing. At the edge of her mind, wary, she thought, I must not entirely go to sleep, I should go out to the stable, Orain may be coming back before I expect him ... and then she was asleep.
The door creaked, and Orain, stepping quietly, was in the room, throwing off his clothes and yawning, sitting on the edge of the bed. Romilly sat up, shocked and startled that she had slept so long. He grinned at her.
"Ah, stay where you are, boy," he said drowsily, "Bed's big enough for two." He had been drinking, she could tell, but he was not drunk. He reached out and ran his hand lightly across her hair. "So soft, you must ha' had a nice bath too."
"I will go now-"
He shook his head. "The outside door o' the inn's locked; ye couldna' get out." His voice was again overlaid with the soft low-country accent. "Stay here, lad - I'm half asleep a'ready." He drew off his boots and outer garments; Romilly, rolling to the far edge of the bed, tucked her head down under the blanket and fell asleep.
She never knew what waked her, but she thought it was a cry: Orain tossed, turned over, cried out, and sat bolt upright. "Ah - Carolin, they will have ye'-" he cried, staring into the empty room, his voice so full of terror that Romilly knew he dreamed. She tugged at his arm and said, "Wake up! It's only a nightmare!"
"Ah-" he drew a long breath and sanity came into his face again. "I saw my brother, my friend, in the hands of Rakhal, Zandru send him scorpion whips-" His face was still troubled, but he lay back down, and Romilly, curling her feet up, sought to go back to sleep. After a time, however, she was aware that Orain's arm was around her, that he was gently drawing her to him.
She pulled away, frightened. He said in his gentlest voice, "Ah, lad, don't you know how I feel? You're so like Carolin, when we were boys together - red hair - and so timid and shy, but so brave when there's need."
Romilly thought, shaking, but there's no need for this, I am a woman-he does not know, but it's all right, I will tell him it's all right- She was trembling with embarrassment, shy, but still the very real warmth and kindness she felt for Orain made her feel, this was not at all as it had been when Dom Garris sought to paw her, nor when Rory sought to force himself on her.
She sat upright and put her arms around him, laying her head on his shoulder. "It's all right, all right, Orain," she whispered, close to his cheek, "You knew all the time, didn't you? I-I-" she couldn't say it She took his hand and put it inside her tunic, against her breast.
He sat upright, jerking away, his face flaming.
"Hell's fire," he whispered, in incredulous embarrassment, shock, and, Romilly realized with horror, real dismay, "Hell's fire, you're a girl!" And he actually leaped out of bed and stood staring at her, pulling his nightshirt together over his body with shock and modestly looking away from her.
"Mistress - damisela, a thousand pardons, I most humbly beg your pardon - never, never, I did not guess for a moment - Avarra's mercy, mistress, I cannot believe it. Who are you?"
She said, shaking with cold and her whole body trembling with the shock of the rejection, "Romilly MacAran," and burst into tears.
"Oh, blessed Gods," Orain implored, bending to wrap the blanket round her, "I - don't cry, someone will hear you, I wouldna' hurt you for the world, lady-" and he gulped and stood back, shaking his head in dismay.
"What an unholy mess this is, and what a damnable fool I've made of myself! Forgive me, lady, I wouldn't lay a finger on you-" Romilly cried harder than ever, and he bent, urgently hushing her.
"Ah, don't cry, little lady, there's nothing to cry about - look, hush, we're friends anyway, aren't we, I don't care if ye're a girl, you must have some reasons-" and as she sought to stifle her weeping, he wiped her nose gently with the sheet and sat down beside her. "There now, there now, that's a good girl, don't cry - sweeting, I think you'd better tell me all about it, hadn't you?"