Romilly woke, on the morning after the battle, to a grey and dismal day of heavy rain. On the field nothing stirred except the omnipresent carrion-birds, undaunted by the downpour, feeding on the bodies of men and horses.
It makes no difference to her now, Romilly thought, but even so she was grateful that Clea lay in the earth, her body guarded from the fierce beaks of the quarreling kyorebni. Yet one way or another, her body would return to its native elements, food for the small crawling things in the earth, to feed grasses and trees. She had become part of the great and endless cycle of life, where those who fed on the earth became in turn food for the earth. Why, then, should I grieve? Romilly asked herself, but the answer came without thought.
Her death did not come in the full course of time, when she had lived out her days. She died in a quarrel between kings which was none of her making. And yet, troubled, she remembered how she had met with Lyondri Hastur. Lyondri's cruelties were many, while Carolin at least seemed to feel that it was his duty to serve and protect those who lived in the lands he had been born to reign over.
Carolin is like a horse . . . with her love of Sunstar and of the other horses, it never occurred to Romilly that she was being offensive to the king. . . . While Rakhal and Lyondri are like banshees who prey on living. Suddenly, for the first time in the year she had been among the Swordswomen, Romilly was glad that Preciosa had abandoned her.
She too preys on the living. It is her nature and I love her but I could not, now, endure to see it, to be a part of it!
She dressed herself, drew the hood of her thickest cloak over her head, and went to tend Temperance. Her first impulse was to leave her to Ruyven: she felt that the sight of the empty perches of Prudence and Diligence would rewaken all the horror and dread of their deaths. But she was sworn to care for them, she was the king's hawkmistress, and Ruyven, though he cared dutifully for the birds, did not love them, as she did.
Temperance sat solitary on her perch, huddled against the chilly dampness; the perches were sheltered but there was no protection against the wind, and Romilly decided to move the bird inside the tent in which neither she nor Maura had slept now for several nights; Temperance was the only remaining sentry-bird with Carolin's armies, and if she took cold in this damp and drizzly weather, she could not fly. Romilly shrank from the memory of her last flight, but she knew that she would, as her duty commanded, fly the bird again, even into danger. Not gladly; that gladness had been a part of innocence and it was gone forever. But she would do it, as duty demanded, because she had seen warfare and known a hint of what would befall the folk of these hills under Lyondri Hastur's harsh rule.
Lyondri did not wish - she knew this from her brief contact with him - to be only Rakhal's executioner. Tell Jandria, he had said, that I am not the monster she thinks me. Yet he believed that this was his only road to power, and therefore he was as guilty as Rakhal.
He is Carolin's kinsman. How can they be so unlike?
As she was caring for Temperance, there was a step outside the tent, and she turned to see a familiar face.
"Dom Alderic," she cried, but before he had more than a moment to stare at her in surprise, Ruyven hurried to greet Alderic with an enthusiastic kinsman's embrace.
"Bredu! I should have known you would hurry to find us here - does your father know?"
Alderic Castamir shook his head and smiled at his friend. He said, "I am recently come from Falconsward; your father gave me leave to go, though not willingly; you should know that Darren has returned to the monastery."
Ruyven sighed and shook his head. "I would so willingly have yielded my place as Father's heir to Darren, and hoped, when he was not in my light, that Father would come to see his true worth... ."
"His own worth," Alderic said quietly. "Darren has small love for horses or hawks, and no trace of the MacAran Gift. He cannot be blamed for what he is not, any more than you for what you are, bredu. And I think The MacAran has had to grant that you cannot forge a hammer from featherpod fluff, nor spin spider-silk even from precious copper. Darren's skills are otherwise, and The MacAran has sent him to Nevarsin, to complete his schooling; one day he shall be Rael's steward, while Rael - I have already begun to teach him to work with horses and hawks."
"Little Rael!" marvelled Ruyven, "When I left Falconsward he was still at Luciella's knee, it seemed! Yet I knew he would have the MacAran Gift; I think I was blinded about Darren because I love him and I wanted so much for him to have the Gift, that I might be free. Well, Darren has found his place, as I mine."
Alderic came and bent over Romilly's hand. "Mistress Romilly," he said gently, and Romilly corrected him:
"Swordswoman Romilly - and I know what my father would say to that; he shall have no chance."
"Under favor, Romy," said Alderic, looking directly into her eyes, "Your father loves you and mourns you as dead; and so does your stepmother. May I beg you as your friend - and theirs, for your father has been more than kind to me - to send them word that you live."
She smiled wryly. "Better not. I am sure my father would rather think of me dead than earning my bread by the sword, or wearing the earring of the Sisterhood."
"I would not be quick to be too sure of that. I think, when you left Falconsward, he changed; it was not long after that, that he bowed his head to the truth and gave Darren leave to return where he was happy. You must have been blind, deaf and dumb, Romilly, if you did not know that you were the favorite of all his children, though he loves you all."
"I know that," Ruyven said, lowering his eyes, and his voice was strangled and harsh, "I never thought he would bend so far. I too have been harsh and stiff-necked. If we come alive from this war - Bearer of Burdens, grant that! -" he interjected in that stifled voice, "I shall go to Falconsward and be reconciled to him, and beg him to make his peace with the Towers, so that Rael may have proper training for his laran before it is too late. And if I must abase myself to him, so be it. I have been too proud."
"And you, Romilly?" asked Alderic. "He has grieved for you so terribly that he has grown old in this single year."
She blinked tears from her eyes. It tore at her heart to think of her father grown old. But she insisted, "Better he should think me dead, than that a daughter of his should disgrace him by wearing the earring-"
Alderic shook his head. "I cannot persuade you, but would it ease your heart to know that Mallina was married to Dom Garris at Midwinter?"
"Mallina? My little sister? To that - that disgusting lecher?' Romilly cried, "and you say my father has changed?"
"Be not too quick to judge," Alderic cautioned, "Garris dotes on her, and she, to all appearances, on him - even before they were wedded, she confided to me that Garris was not so bad at all, when she came to understand him; she said, the poor fellow has been so lonely and unhappy that his wretchedness drove him to all kinds of things, and now he has someone to love him and care about him, he is completely changed! You should see them together!"
"God forbid," Romilly said, shaking her head, "but if he makes Mallina happy, better her than me!" She could not imagine how anyone could tolerate that man, but Mallina had always been something of a fool, perhaps they deserved one another! "Anyhow, Mallina would be the kind of docile and obedient wife that Garris wanted."
Ruyven said, "You are so fond, you say, of my father; but have you yet gone to greet your own?"
"My father can willingly dispense with my company," Alderic frowned stubbornly. "He has never sought it; he sees only my mother in my face."
Romilly remembered what she had guessed before she left Falconsward; Alderic was Carolin's son! And therefore, rightfully heir to all these lands....
She bowed and said, "Let me take you to your father, my prince."
Alderic stared and laughed. "Romilly, Romilly, my young friend, if you have believed me the king's son, better that you know now how you have misjudged me! Carolin's sons are safely in the care of the Hastur of Carcosa, and I have heard rumors that Carolin is courting a certain leronis of Tramontana-" he smiled at Ruyven and said, "That was in the air even before you left the Tower, my friend."
"And Domna Maura has promised to wed him, if the Council gives leave," said Ruyven, adding grimly, "Providing any of us escape this war. Rakhal fell upon us with clingfire-arrows; we managed to fight him away, but he will rally and be upon us again, and the Bearer of Burdens knows alone what devilry of laran-work he will fling against us when next he comes! So make haste to greet your father, 'Deric, for this is but the lull before the storm, and by this time tomorrow we may be fighting for our lives! Would you greet your Gods after death with the stain of kin-strife still upon you? For it is most likely you have come only to die at your father's side."
"As bad as that?" Alderic asked, searching Ruyven's face. Ruyven nodded, grimly.
"We are, as I said, at the center of the storm; at peace for a moment, no more. Carolin has need of all the leronyn he can summon to his side, 'Deric."
Romilly interrupted, "What is this? If you are not Carolin's son-"
Alderic said quietly, "My father is called Orain, and he is foster-brother and friend of Carolin. I was reared at Carolin's court."
She reached for his hand with sudden confidence. She should have guessed, when he had spoken of the way in which his father could not endure to look on him. Carolin, even in an unwanted dynastic marriage, could have shown courtesy and kindness to a woman; but, as reward for her moment of foolishness, she had seen straight into Orain's heart. She was sorry for Alderic that he had not known a father's love; for now she knew how blessed she had been in that love.
"I am the king's hawkmistress," she said, "and he will have need of my bird soon, if we are to meet Rakhal again on the field of war. And, no doubt, your father is with him."
"I doubt it not at all," Alderic said, "He is never far from the side of his king. When I was younger, I hated him for that, and resented it because he cared more for Carolin's sons, and even Lyondri Hastur's little son, than for me." He shrugged and signed. "The world will go as it will; love cannot be compelled, even within kin, and to such a man as my father, my very existence must have been a painful reminder of an unhappy time in his life. I owe Orain a son's duty - may I never fail in it - but no more. Kinship, I sometimes think, is a joke the gods play, to bind us to those we do not love, in the hope we can somehow be reconciled to them; but friends are a gift, and your father has been a friend, almost a foster-father to me. When we are free of this war-" he touched her hand lightly. "We need not speak of that now. But I think you know what I would say."
She did not look at him. There had been a time, indeed, when she had thought she would willingly have married this man. But much had happened to her in the year since then. She had desired Orain himself, even though he had not wanted her. And Ranald . . . what had happened with Ranald was not the sort of thing which led to marriage, nor would a Drylands lord be likely to marry a mountain Swordswoman; indeed, she did not think she would marry him if he asked, and there was no reason he should. Their bodies had accepted one another joyfully, but that was under unusual conditions; she would have accepted any man she supposed, who had come to her and offered surcease from what was so tumultuous within her. But apart from that, they knew little of one another. And if Alderic knew she was not the virtuous maiden she had been a Falconsward, would he even want her?
She said, "When this war is done, Lord Alderic-"
"Call me Deric, as your brother does," he interrupted her. "Ruyven and I are bredin, and as friend to both your brothers, I owe you always a brother's protection, even if no more."
"I am a Swordswoman Deric," she said. "I need no man's protection, but I will gladly have your friendship. That, I think, I had, even at Falconsward. As for anything more than friendship, I think-" uncontrollably, her voice was shaking. "We should not even speak of that, until we are free of this accursed war!"
"I am grateful for your honesty, Romilly," he said. "I would not want a woman who would marry me just because I am the son of Carolin's chief counselor and friend. My father married because the old king wished to honor his son's foster-brother by giving him in marriage to a high-born lady; they despised one another, and I have suffered for that; I would not wish my own children torn by hatred between their parents, and I have always sworn that I would marry no woman unless we were, at least, friends." His eyes, levelled and gentle, met hers, and for some reason the kindness in them made her want to cry.
"For anything more we can wait - Swordswoman."
She nodded. But all she said was, "Let us go, then, and greet your father."
But they did not reach Carolin's tent before they met Orain, hurrying toward the place where the birds were kept. He said, "Mistress Romilly, your sentry-bird is wanted-" and stopped, blinking, at the sight of her companion.
"Father," Alderic said, and bowed.
Orain took him, for a moment, in a brief, formal embrace. The sight hurt Romilly; she was so accustomed to Orain's rough affection. She thought, he would have greeted me with more kindness than that! He said, "I did not know you had come, my boy. Carolin has need now of any who are skilled at laran; perhaps you have heard that he came down on us with clingfire."
"I heard it when I came to camp, Father," Alderic said, "and I was making haste to offer such small skill as I have to Carolin's service; but I came first to greet you, sir."
Orain said, with constraint, "For that I thank you in his name. The king's leronyn are gathered there-" and he gestured. "Mistress Romilly, bring your bird; we must know how long we have before Rakhal falls on us again."
"Are we to march out on Rakhal, then?" Alderic asked, and Orain said, with his mouth set in a grim line,
"Only to get free of the bodies here, so that we can maneuver if we must. If Rakhal has clingfire at command, we dare not meet him in the woods, or all this land will be burned over between here and Neskaya!" And as Romilly looked toward Carolin's headquarters she saw the tent struck, and the Hastur banner taken out by his guardsmen. Alderic glanced once at Romilly, but all he said was, "I must join the others, then. Guard yourself well, Romilly," and hurried away.
She went back swiftly to prepare herself for riding, and set Temperance on her saddle, leaving it to Ruyven's young assistant to strike the tent and pack it for moving with the army. Could Rakhal indeed be so thoughtless of the land as to send fire-arrows in forested country, at this season, and risk fire? Well, it was like what she had heard of the man. For that reason, if for no other, somehow they must defeat that unprincipled man who called himself king!
Now that she knew what she was seeking, it proved easier to send up the sentry-bird. Because of the rain, Temperance was reluctant to fly, but this time Romilly did not hesitate to send the bird up, almost to the bottom of the low-lying clouds. She flew her slowly in circles, gradually widening, so that she could see Rakhal's army on the move. As she rode, half of her mind on the bird, she joined Carolin and his array of skilled leronyn, men and women; it crossed her mind, briefly, that she was one of them, that perhaps at last, she had found her true place.
I am Swordswoman still. But I am grateful that I need not bear a sword in this combat. If I must, I think I could do so, but I am glad that my skills lead me elsewhere. I do not want to kill... and then, grimly, she forced herself to be realistic. She was a part of this killing, as much as if she bore sword or bow into the battlefield; more, perhaps, for her sentry-bird's eyes directed the killing. She took her place, resolutely, between Lady Maura and Ranald. One or both of them would remain in rapport with her, to relay the information to the ears of Carolin and his general.
It cannot be easy for Jandria, to go against Lyondri this way, and know that she will be instrumental in his death- and now there is no help for him but death. She was not sure at that moment whether the thought was hers, or Lady Maura's, or even, perhaps, Lord Orain's. They were all in a tight little group, clustered around Carolin, and Alderic was among them. At the edge of her awareness she saw Alderic greet Jandria kindly, and call her "My lady Aunt." As if it were something she had dreamed a long time ago, it crossed her mind that if she married Alderic, she would be kinswoman to Jandria.
But we are sworn to one another in the Sisterhood, anyway, I need not that to be her kin. Alderic said it so; kinsmen are born, but friendship is a gift of the Gods....
Maura looked at her meaningfully, and Romilly remembered her work; she went swiftly into rapport with Temperance, who was still flying in widening circles over the great plain. At last she spotted, through the keen eyes of the bird, a darkening cloud of dust on the horizon....
Rakhal's army, on the move, and riding swiftly toward the forested cover of the hills. As she saw, and as this information was relayed swiftly to Carolin, she caught the thought of the king, So he would hide within the cover of the trees, for he knows I am unwilling to use clingfire, or even ordinary fire-arrows, where there is danger that the resin-trees may bring on wildfire. Somehow we must overtake him before he reaches the forest, and do battle on ground of my choosing, not his. And Romilly sensed the touch of his mind on Sunstar's; Lead my men, then, great horse....
She saw with a strange widening consciousness, linked to Carolin, to Sunstar, to all the men around her. She knew that Ranald had seized her horse's rein and was guiding him, so that she could ride safely even while she was in rapport with the sentry-bird, and spared him a quick thought of gratitude. The ram was slowing, and after a time a strange, low, watery sunlight came through the clouds. She flew Temperance lower, over the armies, trying to fly high enough that she could not be seen, yet dipping in and spying...
Rakhal's armies seemed shrunken in size, and off to the north she saw another body of men and horses. Were they coming to Rakhal's aid, now that the first battle had thinned his ranks? No; for they were riding away from Rakhal's main army as swiftly as they could. And Carolin's thoughts were jubilant.
Rakhal's men are deserting him, now they know what he is . . . they have no more stomach than I for this kind of warfare. ...
But the main body of men was still formidable; they had come to a halt at the brow of a little hill, and Romilly knew, being in communication with the minds of Carolin's men, that Rakhal had seized the most advantageous terrain, and would make a stand there and defend it.
This, then, would be the decisive battle. Under urging from Carolin, she flew the bird down closer, so that through her eyes, Carolin's advisers might take stock of the size of the forces arrayed against them. Rakhal had the advantage, it seemed, in numbers, and in terrain.
Somehow we must lure Rakhal from that hill....
Alderic rode toward his father and spoke to Orain urgently for a few moments, and Romilly, what small part of her mind was not with the bird, heard Orain say to Carolin, "By your leave, my lord. My son has put me in mind of an old trick in the mountains, and we have leronyn enough to make it effective. Let me lead a dozen or two of your men, with the leronyn, to cast an illusion as if there were four times as many of us, to force Rakhal to charge down upon us; then you can come and take him on the flank."
Carolin considered for a moment "It might work," he said at last, "But I'll not send your leronyn into danger; most of them do not even wear swords."
Ranald Ridenow said, "My laran as well as my sword are at your service, my King. Let me lead these men."
"Pick your men, then - and Aldones ride with you, all of you!" Carolin said, "but pick your moment carefully."
"Mistress MacAran shall do that for us," said Ranald, with his hand on Romilly's bridle.
Orain said, "Would you take a woman into battle?" and Romilly, pulling herself free for a moment of the rapport with the bird-mind, said, "My lord Orain, I am a Swordswoman! Where my brother will go, I shall go with him!"
Ruyven did not speak, but she felt the warmth that said, not in words, Bravely spoken, sister, and with it a touch from Alderic. Somehow it reminded her of the day when they had flown hawks at Falconsward, at Midsummer-festival.
When I am free of this war, I shall never again hunt for pleasure, for I know now what it is to be hunted . . . and with amazement, she knew that the mind which held this thought was Orain's.
How near to my own thought! Romilly felt again the bitter regret for the distance that had fallen between Orain and herself. We were so close in so many ways, so much alike! But the world would go as it would, and Orain was as he was and not as she would have him. She threw herself back into rapport with the sentry-bird, letting Ranald see through her mind, and relay to Orain and Alderic, what she saw in Rakhal's army.
Horsemen were drawn up at the perimeter of his army, surrounding foot-soldiers and bowmen, and at the center, a number of great wagons, with the acrid smell she knew now to be the chemical smell of clingfire. They ringed the brow of the little hill completely while they took their stand there, it would be impossible to breach their defenses.
But that is precisely what we must do, it was Alderic's thought, and he rode the company of two dozen men, headed by the small band of leronyn, breakneck toward the hill; suddenly stopped them.
Now!
And suddenly it seemed to Romilly that a great cloud of dust and fire moved on the hill, with a racing and a pounding of hooves, and cries . . . what soldiers are these? And then she knew that she had seen these men, the men who had deserted Rakhal and were riding away ... it was like a great mirror, as if the image of this separate army were thrown straight at Rakhal's men ... for a little they held firm, while a cloud of arrows came flying down toward the close-clustered band of soldiers and leronyn at the foot of the hill. .. but they were shooting short, at the image of the racing soldiers ...
Join with us! In the name of the Gods, everyone who has laran, join us to hold this image ... on and on the racing cloud of dust, in which Romilly could now see indistinct shapes, horses' heads like great grey skulls, the burning visages of skeletons, glowing with devil-fire inside the hidden cloud of dust and sorcery....
She heard a voice she had never heard before, reverberating within her mind, bellowing; "Stand firm! Stand firm!" But that could not stand against the assault of the ghostly army; Rakhal's men broke and charged down the hill, riding straight into the cloud of magical images, screaming in terror, and their line faltered, broke in a dozen places. Fire struck up through the ground, licking, curling, green and blue flames rising . . . then it was as if a river of blood flowed up the hill, through the horses' feet, and they stopped short, snorting, screaming in terror, stamping. Some of their riders fell, a few men held their ground, crying out, "No smell of blood, no smell of burning, it's a trick, a trick-" but the line was broken; horses stampeded, colliding with one another, trampling their riders, and the officers struggled wildly to rally the broken line, to gather the men into some semblance of order.
"Now! Carolin!"
"A Hastur! A Hastur!" Carolin's men charged, the main body of the army, flowing like water up the hill and into the broken ranks of the horsemen. Right over Rakhal's outer defenses they flowed, and then they were fighting at close quarters, but Ranald and Alderic broke and dashed right through to the center of the armies, where the guarded wagon stood with the clingfire. Men were gathered, hastily dipping their arrows in the stuff, but Alderic and Orain and their little band rode right over them and toward the wagon. Swiftly, like a running tide of energy, they linked minds, and a band of blue fire rolled out toward the wagon with the clingfire. It struck, blazed upward, and then a roaring column of fire burst skyward, blazing so fiercely that Rakhal's men scattered and ran for their lives. Burning droplets fell on some of them and they blazed up like living torches and died screaming; the fire ran through Rakhal's own armies, and, panicked, they ran, scattered, and ran right on Carolin's spears and swords.
Although a part of Romilly was still linked with the bird, she knew there was no more need of it. She found herself closely linked in mind with Sunstar, as Carolin urged him forward; she knew the terror of fire, shuddering with the smell of burning grass and burning flesh; even in the rain which had begun to drizzle down again in the fitful sunlight, the clingfire burned on. But the great stallion, bravely overcoming that inborn fear, carried his rider forward ... or was it Romilly herself, bearing the king into the heart of the fleeing enemy.
"See where Rakhal flies with his sorcerers!" cried out Orain, "After them, men! Take them now!"
Romilly let Temperance fly upward out of range of the fire; it was burning inward now, with a ring round it where there was nothing left to bum - so much had the leronyn of Carolin's armies accomplished; but she, with Carolin, was away with the stallion Sunstar, forging to the heights, where the last remnant of Rakhal's men, cut off between Carolin and the raging remnant of clingfire, fought with their backs to the fire. Sunstar seemed to fly forward with Carolin's own will to take the height, and Romilly felt that it was she herself who bore him on to the last moment of success....
Then she stumbled - for a moment Romilly was not sure it was not she herself who had stumbled - recovered, and reared high in the air, Carolin's hand guiding him up, then down, to trample the man who had risen, sword in hand, before him. His great hooves were like hammers pounding the man into the ground. Romilly felt the man go down, his head splitting like a ripe fruit beneath her hooves – Sunstar’s hooves - felt Carolin fighting for balance in the saddle. And then another man reared up with a lightning-flash of steel, she felt Carolin slip back in the saddle and fall, and in that moment Romilly felt sharp shearing pain as the sword sliced through neck and throat and heart, and blood and life spurted away....
She never felt herself strike the ground.
. . . rain was falling, hard cold rain, pounding down; the ground was awash with it, and even the smell of the clingfire had been washed away. The sky was dark; it was near nightfall. Romilly sat up, dazed and stunned, not even now fully aware that it was not she who had been felled by the sword.
Sunstar! She reached out automatically for his mind, found-
Found nothingness! Only a great sense of vacancy, emptiness where he had been. Wildly she looked around and saw, lying not far away, the stallion's body, his head nearly severed, and the man he had killed lying beneath his great bulk. The rain had washed the blood clear so that there was only a great gaping wound in his neck from which the blood had soaked into the ground all around him. Sunstar, Sunstar-dead, dead, dead! She reached out, again, dazed, to nothingness. Sunstar, whose life she had shared so long....
And whom she had betrayed by leading him to death in a war between two kings . . . neither of them is worth a lock of his black mane . . . ah, Sunstar . . . and I died with you ... Romilly felt so empty and cold she was not sure that she was still alive. She had heard tales of men who did not know they were dead and kept trying to communicate with the living. Dazed, drained of all emotion except fury and grief, she managed to sit up.
Around her lay the bodies of the dead, Rakhal's men and Carolin's; but of Carolin himself there was no sign. Only the body of Sunstar showed where Carolin had once been. Vaguely, not caring, she wondered if all Carolin's men were dead and Rakhal victor. Or had Orain's party captured or killed Rakhal? What did it matter?
What matters it which great rogue sits on the throne....
She began to get her bearings a little. As before the previous battle, the field was covered with the dark shapes of kyorebni, hovering. One lighted, with a harsh scream, on Sunstar's head, and Romilly rushed at it, flapping her arms and crying out The bird was gone, but it would come back.
Sunstar is dead. And I trained him with my own hands for this war, betrayed him into the hands of the one who would ride him into this slaughter, and the noble horse never faltered, but bore Carolin to this place and to his death. I would have done better to kill him myself when he ran joyously around our green paddock behind the hostel of the Sisterhood. Then he would never have know fire and fear and a sword through his heart.
Dark was falling, but far away at the edge of the battlefield, a lantern bobbed, a little light wandering over the field. Grave-robbers? Mourners seeking the slain? No; intuitively Romilly knew who they were; the women of the Sisterhood, seeking their fallen comrades, who must not lie in the common grave of Carolin's soldiers.
As if it mattered to the dead where they lay....
They would come here soon, thinking her dead - when she had fallen from her horse, stricken down by Sunstar's death, no doubt they had left her for dead. Now they would come to bury her, and find her living, and they would rejoice....
And then Romilly was overcome with rage and grief. They would take her back to themselves, reclaim her as a warrior-woman. She had fled from the company of men, come among the Sisterhood, and what had they done? Set her to training horses, not for their own sake or for the service of men, but to be slaughtered, slaughtered senselessly in this strife of men who could not keep their quarrels to themselves alone but involved the innocent birds and horses in their wars and killings. ...
And I am to go back to that? No, no, never!
With shaking hands, she tore the earring of the Sisterhood from her ear; the wire caught and tore her ear but she was unconscious of the pain. She flung it on the ground. An offering for Sunstar, a sacrifice offered to the dead! She could hardly stand. She looked around, and saw that riderless horses were wandering here and there on the battlefield. It took only the slightest touch of her laran to bring one to her, his head bent in submission. It was too dark now to see whether it was mare or gelding, grey or black or roan. She climbed into the saddle, and crouched over the pommel, letting the horse take his own way . . . -where? It matters not. Away from this place of death, away, friend. I will serve no more, not as soldier nor Swordswoman nor leronis. From henceforth I shall serve no man nor woman. Blindly, her eyes closed against streaming hot tears, Romilly rode alone from the battlefield and into the rain of the night.
All that night, she rode, letting the horse find his own pathway, and never knew where she went or what direction she took. The sun rose and she was still unaware, sitting as if lifeless on the animal's back, swaying now and again but always recovering herself before she quite fell. It did not seem to matter. Sunstar was dead. Carolin and Orain had gone she knew not where, nor did it matter, Orain wanted nothing of her . . . she was a woman. Carolin, like the Sisterhood, sought only to have her use her laran to betray other innocent beasts to the slaughter! Ruyven . . . Ruyven cared little for her, he was like a monk from the accursed Tower where they learned devilry like clingfire. . . .
There is no human who shall mean anything to me now.
She rode on, all day, across a countryside ravaged and deserted, over which the war had raged. At the edge of the forest, she slid from her horse, and set him free.
"Go, my brother," she whispered, "and serve no man or woman, for they will only lead you to death. Live free in the wild, and go your own way."
The horse stared down at her for a moment; she gave it a final pat and pushed it away, and, after a moment of motionless surprise, it turned and cantered awkwardly away. Romilly went quietly into the darkness of the forest. She was soaked to the skin, but it seemed not to matter, any more than the horse minded his wet cloak of hair. She found a little hollow between the roots of a tree, crawled into it, drew her cloak tightly around her, covering her face; curled herself into a ball and slept like the dead.
At dawn she woke to hear birds calling, and it seemed, mixed with their note, she could hear the harsh screams of the kyorebni, still feeding on the waste of the battlefield. She did not know where she was going; somewhere away from the sound of those screams. She got numbly to her feet and walked, not caring in which direction, further into the wood.
She walked most of that day. She was not conscious of hunger; she moved like a wild thing, silently, avoiding what was in her path and whenever she heard a noise, freezing silently in her tracks. Late in the day she nearly stumbled into a small stream, and cupping her hands, drank deeply of the clear sweet water, then laid herself down in a patch of sunlight that came between the leaves and let the sun dry the remaining damp from her clothes. She was still numb. As darkness fell, she curled up under a bush and slept. Some small thing in the grasses brushed against her and she never thought to turn aside.
The next morning she slept late and woke with the sun's heat across her back. Before her, a spider had spun its web, clear and jewelled with the dew; she looked on its marvelous intricacy and felt the first pleasure she had felt in many days. The sun was bright on the leaves; a bushjumper suddenly bolted on long legs, followed by four miniature babies, their bushy tails standing up like small bluish flags riding high. Romilly heard herself laugh aloud, and they stopped, tails quivering, dead silent; then, as the silence fell around them, with a burst of speed all four of the tiny flags popped down a hole in the grass.
How quiet it was within the woods! There could certainly be no human dwelling nearby, or nothing could have been so peaceful, the wild things so untroubled and unafraid.
She uncurled herself from sleep, lazily stretching her limbs. She was thirsty, but there was no stream nearby; she licked the dew from the low leaves of the tree over her head. On a fallen log she found a few old woody mushrooms, and ate them, then found some dried berries hanging to a stem and ate them too. After a little while, as she wandered lazily through the wood, she saw the green flags of a root she knew to be edible, grubbed it up with a stick, rubbed off the dirt on the edge of her tunic, and chewed it slowly. It was stringy and hard, the flavor acrid enough to make her eyes water, but it satisfied her hunger.
She had lost the impetus that had kept her moving restlessly from place to place; she sat in the clearing of the fallen log most of the day, and when night fell again she slept there.
During her sleep she heard someone calling her name; but she did not seem to know the voice. Orain? No, he would not call her; he had wanted her when he thought her a boy, but had no use for the woman she really was. Her father? He was far away, across the Kadarin, safe at home. She thought with pain of the peaceful hills of Falconsward. Yet it was there she had learned that evil art of horse-training by which she had betrayed the beloved to his death. In her dream she seemed to sit on Sunstar's back, to ride like the wind across the grey plain she once had seen, and she woke with her face wet with tears.
A day or two later she realized that she had lost shoes and stockings, she did not remember where, that her feet were already hardening to the dirt and pebbles of the forest floor. She wandered on aimlessly, ever deeper into the forest, eating fruits, grubbing in the earth for roots; now and again she cooled her feet in a mountain stream but she never thought of washing. She ate when she found food; when once for three days together she found nothing edible, she was dimly aware of hunger, but it did not seem important to her. She no longer troubled to rub the dirt from the roots she ate; they seemed just as good to her in their coats of earth. Once she found some pears on an abandoned tree and their taste was so sweet that she felt a rush of ecstasy. She ate as many as she could but it did not occur to her to fill her pockets or to tie them into her skirt.
One night she woke when the purple face of Liriel stood over her in the sky, seeming to look down and chide her, and thought, I am surely mad, where am I going, what am I going to do? I cannot go on like this forever. But when she woke she had forgotten it again. Now and again, too, she heard, not with her ears but within her mind, voices that seemed to call, Romilly, where are you? She wondered faintly who Romilly was, and why they were calling her.
She came to the end of the woods, the next day, and out into open plains and rolling hills. Waving grasses were covered with seeds ... all this country must once have been settled and planted to grain, but all around the horizon which stretched wide from west to east, from the wall of the forest behind her to the mountains which rose greyish-pink in the distance, there was no human dwelling. She picked a handful of the seeds, rubbed their coats from them, and chewed them as she walked.
High in the sky, a hawk soared, a single hawk, and as she watched, it dropped down, down, down, falling toward her with folded wings, it alighted on her shoulder. It seemed to speak in her mind, but she did not know what it was saying, yet it seemed that once she had known this hawk, that it had a name, that once she had flown beside it in the sky ... no, that was not possible, yet the hawk seemed so sure that they knew one another. She reached out to touch it, then stopped, there was some reason she should not touch it with her finger . . . she wished she could remember why. But she looked into the hawk's eyes, and wished she knew where she had seen the hawk before this.
She woke again that night, and again she was aware that she was certainly quite mad, that she could not wander forever like this. But she had no idea where she was, and there was no one to ask. She knew who she was, now, she was Romilly, and the hawk, the hawk which had perched on the low limb of a nearby tree, the hawk was Preciosa, but why had she sought her out here? Did she not know that she, Romilly, set the touch of her mind on bird or horse only to train it to follow humankind meekly to its own death?
It took her five days to cross the plain; she counted them, without thinking, as the face of Liriel grew toward full. When last the moon was full, she had followed Sunstar - she slammed the memory shut; it was too painful. There were plenty of the grainlike seeds to eat, and water to drink. Once the hawk brought a bird down from the sky and lighted on her shoulder, screaming in frustration; she looked at the dead bird, torn by the hawk's beak, and shuddered. It was the hawk's nature, but the sight of the Wood made her feel sick, and at last she flung it to the ground and walked on.
That night she came beneath the edges of another patch of forest. She found a tree heavy with last year's nuts, and by now she had sense enough to fill her pockets with them. She was still not certain where she was going, but she had begun to turn northward when there was a choice. She moved noiselessly now through the woods, driven restlessly onward ... she did not know why.
Overhead, toward evening, she heard the cry of waterfowl, flying toward the south. She looked up, soaring with them in their dizzy flight, seeing from afar where a tall white tower rose, and the glimmer of a lake. Where was she?
The moons were so bright that night, four of them shining down on her, Uriel and Kyrrdis round and full, and the . other two shining pale and gibbous, that she could not sleep. It seemed to her that when last she had seen four moons in the sky, something had happened ... no, she could not remember, but her body ached with desire and hunger unslaked, and she did not know why. After a time, lying in the soft moss, she began to range outward, feeling hungers like her own all round her....
A cat crawled along a branch, and she felt the tug of the light within her, too, the flow of the life of the world, and herself with it. She could see the gleam of the great eyes, followed it with her mind while she prowled around the foot of the tree. There was a sweet, sharp, musky scent in the air now and, in the mind of the cat, she followed it, not knowing whether or not she moved or whether only the cat moved . . . closer and closer she came, and heard herself make a small snarling, purring cry of hunger and need . . . turned with a lashing of the great tail as the cat's mate pounced down the tree trunk, with cries and frisking sounds. Her body ached and hungered and as the cat seized her mate, Romilly twisted on the moss of the ground and dug her hands into the ground, gasping, crying out...
Ranald . . . she whispered, hi the moment before she was lost in the wild surge of heat. The night seemed filled with the snarling, purring sound of the great cats in their mating, and she lay silent, battered down beneath it, and at last, her senses and laran overloaded, she lost consciousness.
The next morning she woke, hardly aware what had happened, feeling sick and exhausted. She did not know why, but her aimless moving through the forest had quickened pace. She must get away, get away ... a nameless apprehension was on her, and when she heard, above her, the same snarling cry of the great cat, she was too numbed to be afraid. And then there was a dark flash as it slithered to the ground and stood facing her, mouth drawn back in a snarl over sharp fanged teeth. Behind it she sensed the presence of the little balls of brownish fur, hidden in the hollow tree....
The cat was protecting her young! And, she, Romilly, had blundered into the proximity of the cat's protected territory . . . she blundered backward, fighting the temptation to turn and run, run away ... if she did, she knew the cat would be on her in a moment! Slowly, stealthily, she drew backward, backward, trying to catch the animal's eyes, to press on it with her laran...
Peace, peace, I mean no harm, not to you, not to your little ones. ... At some time, she had done this before, something which menaced her, cold, fierce, in the snows. . ..
Silently, silently, step after step, withdraw, withdraw . . . peace, peace, I mean you no harm, your cubs no harm....
Then, when she was almost at the edge of the clearing, the cat moved like a streak, with a single long leap, and landed almost at Romilly's feet.
Peace, peace . . . The cat bent her head, almost laid it at Romilly's feet. Then shock struck through her.
No, no! I betrayed Sunstar to death, I swore 1 would use that laran no more, never, never ... no more of the innocent to die ...
One paw lashed out like a whip; claws raked Romilly's face, and the weight of the arm stretched her sprawling and gasping with pain; she felt blood break from her cheek and her lip. Now she has spilled my blood, will she kill me now as sacrifice to her cubs, in expiation for the death of Sunstar. . . .
The hoarse, soft snarling never stopped. Romilly rolled over, to protect her face. Then, as the cat sprung again, a fury of wings lashed down, and the hawk's claws raked at the eyes of the great cat, beating wings flapping around the cat's muzzle.
Preciosa! She has come to fight for me!
Romilly rolled free, springing up and climbing into a nearby tree. Preciosa hovered, just out of reach of the deadly claws, flapping and striking with beak and talons, until the cat, snarling softly, turned her back and vanished into the long grasses where her cubs were hidden. Her breath catching in her throat, Romilly slid down the tree and ran as far as she could in the opposite direction, Preciosa close behind her; she heard the sound of the wings and the little shrilling sound of the hawk. When she was out of range, she stopped, turned, thrust out her fist, in a gesture so familiar that she did not even make it consciously.
Preciosa!" she cried, and as the hawk's talons closed, gently, on her arm, she remembered everything, and began to cry.
"Oh, Preciosa, you came for me!"
She washed in a stream, that night, and shook the leaf-mold and dirt from her cloak. She took off her tunic and trousers, and shook them out to air, and put them on again. She had lost, somewhere, her Swordswoman's earring - she never knew where. With the hawk riding on her shoulder, she tried to orient herself.
She supposed the white Tower nearby must be Neskaya, but she was not certain. A day's walk should bring her there, and perhaps she could send a message somewhere, and know what had befallen Carolin, and what the armies did. She still flinched from the thought of joining them again, but she knew someday she must return to her own kind.
Late that night, as she was looking for a dry place to sleep, and wondering how she had managed all these days alone - she thought she must have been in the woods all of three days, perhaps - it seemed that she heard someone calling her name.
Romilly! Romilly!
Search for her with laran, only so we can find her, she is hiding...
She cannot be dead. I would know if she was dead....
She recognized, vaguely, some of the voices, though it was still not clear.
If you can find her, bid her come back to us. This was a voice she knew, a voice she loved; Jandria, mourning. And although she had never done it before, somehow Romilly knew how to reach out with her mind.
Where are you? What has happened? I thought the war Was over.
It is ended, and Carolin is encamped before the walls of Hali, came the answer. But it is stalemate, for Lyondri has Orain as hostage somewhere within the city.
And Romilly did not even stop to remember her grudge, or what it had been.
I will come as swiftly as I can.