“You could marry again,” Savyn said bitterly. “You could choose your own rich man this time, and . . .”
“No,” she said sharply, dropping her hand. “I won’t. I’ll beg, if I have to. To marry for comfort would be no better than to sell myself all over again. I am a decent cook, you know, and I’m handy with a thread and needle, and I would make a very decent governess.”
Leyla would be wonderful with children, a thought which made Savyn wonder why she’d never had any of her own. She was a witch, after all. Perhaps she had made use of a potion to keep from catching the child of a man who had purchased her. He had heard of such concoctions, though they were not commonly used.
“In any case, I don’t know where to go just yet,” she said, her voice calmer. “A small village, perhaps. Someplace where I can . . . can . . .”
“Hide,” Savyn supplied sharply.
“Yes,” she whispered. “A place where I can hide.”
She made the prospect sound lovely, not at all frightening. He would love to go with her, to hide from the world in her company, but what good would a blind man do Leyla in her new life? Then again, how could he find his way home? Search as he might, he could not find many of his own happy memories from home. There were confusing snippets of something he could not quite grasp, as if his happiness there had been elusive. Secret. Clandestine.
Again an image of Leyla, naked and smiling with her mass of dark hair curling behind her, came to his mind. Just as quickly, it was gone.
“For now we will stay here,” she said. “You need time to heal, and I need time to decide what comes next for me, where I might go. The hut is not the best of lodgings in Columbyana, but I have cleaned it thoroughly, and until winter arrives, it will offer sufficient shelter. I believe I have scared away the rodents that used to live here.” There was a hint of humor in her voice. “We know there’s a village not far away. As soon as you’re better, I’ll take some of Trinity’s coin there and buy supplies. There was quite a lot of coin in his saddlebags,” she added, sounding pleased.
“What if I don’t heal?” Savyn asked. He closed his eyes and drank in the warmth of the sun, if not the light.
“You will.” Leyla sounded determined. She was confident, even if he was not.
Savyn turned to face her. She was so near, it was as if he could feel her skin almost touching his. Almost. With one hand he found her face without fumbling, as if he knew exactly how and where to reach. He cupped her cheek in that hand and lowered his head to kiss her.
He had no right, but he wanted the kiss more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. Her mouth met his softly and willingly, and oh, it was like coming home. It was like claiming the warmth and love of the home neither of them possessed, with a touch of their lips. They touched nowhere else, but she did not pull away, she did not move back. Not even when their tongues danced so well, as if they searched for one another after a long time apart.
She should be surprised and shocked by his boldness, but did not seem to be anything more than welcoming.
He ended the kiss and threaded his fingers through her hair. “Leyla, why do I feel so certain we have kissed before? ”
BELA
held her breath. It seemed that her heart stopped, and then restarted with a vengeance. The earth shook, the walls crumbled, and the image of her and Merin and Kitty fell to dust, revealing an opening which had long been closed.
Merin wasted no time scurrying forward, as the passage behind them closed in. The mountain shifted, and rock cracked and fell. Thanks to Kitty they were not lost in darkness, and it soon seemed that the way before them opened wider and longer as if by magic. Behind them, the cave continued to fall in. Bela felt the dust and pebbles at her feet, and she did not dare to look back.
They were well trapped, unless there was another way out.
The farther they scurried into the mountain, the harder Bela’s heart pounded. How would they escape this? And what if they didn’t? What if there was no way out? Had she just found love only to lose it? Would she and Merin be buried under a mountain of rock?
Eventually the rumbling stopped, and pebbles and dust stopped raining down upon them. The passageway ahead grew wider and higher. And sturdier, thank the heavens. Soon they were both standing tall, walking toward the center of the mountain, since there was no walking back.
It took several minutes for Bela to realize that Kitty no longer glowed. No, the light that illuminated their way came from the walls around them, walls which glistened with streaks of crystal like that from which Kitty’s grip was made.
Merin took her hand, and she clasped it tight. There was a brighter light at the end of the tunnel, as if daylight awaited them there. No, not daylight. The glow was more like moonlight: softer than the sun, more blue and crisp than yellow and warming. There was no warmth in this glow. Soon Bela heard the rush of what sounded like water. Flowing, strong, abundant water.
“An underground river,” Merin said, relief in his voice. “That’s good news; the water must leave here somehow.”
“I would imagine so.”
“We’re safe, for now,” he said with confidence, “and we will find a way out, I promise you.”
“Merin,” Bela said, not yet entirely accustomed to calling him Tearlach, given name or not, truly married or not, “if I must be trapped inside a mountain with anyone, I’m glad it’s you.”
He squeezed her hand but kept his gaze straight ahead, focused on the glow that pulled them forward.
“Well, Kitty,” Bela whispered, “What do you have to say for yourself now?”
Home.
They stepped from the stone corridor into a cavern aglow with the stone which had lined the walls on their pathway to this place. Even the river which ran through the cavern in a twisting S-shape glimmered, thanks to the crystals beneath the surface. The grotto was vast, and it sparkled as if it were the mountain’s personal jewel. The ceiling was high above, much higher than she’d thought possible, and larger crystals grew there, seeming to drip from the rock that made up the walls, the floor, and the ceiling.
“It’s beautiful,” Bela whispered.
“Yes,” Merin agreed absently, and then he walked toward the nearest section of wall to his left, where more carvings drew the eye.
Bela held her breath. The figures which had been carved into the cavern walls looked ancient—worn and faded and even chipped away here and there—and judging by the number of them in this chamber, they had taken many years to complete. The crude depictions wrapped around the cavern, filling the walls.
Like the carving they had seen before the cave-in, the first image depicted her and Merin, side by side and connected by a string that spanned waist to waist. Kitty hovered above their heads. The images that followed had Bela holding her breath, much as she had when the mountain had rumbled.
The carvings primitively depicted the two of them on their knees surrounded by plants, perhaps weeding. There was more. Much more. They were sleeping side by side in a ridiculously exaggerated sagging bed. Kissing. Fighting . . . climbing a mountain.
This
mountain. There was a scene depicting a fight with three men, men who were obviously unimportant because they were little more than stick figures, and then one of Bela going over the side of the mountain and hanging by a thread, saved only by Merin’s strength and her own determination.
Then there was a crude depiction of what had happened last night and this morning . . .
Merin did not speak for a while, as he studied the images. His face grew stonier and stonier. His lips thinned. “Bela, tell me you didn’t see these carvings when you were here before.”
“I did not!”
He looked at her with disbelieving eyes. “How is this possible? ”
“I don’t know,” she said. “How is Kitty possible? How is any magic possible?”
Merin knew of enchantment. He had fought demons in years past, with the power of good magic on his side.
Bela’s eyes lingered on the depiction of this morning’s encounter—a crude depiction of her astride him. She almost recoiled. Her breasts were not that large, and they did not sag! Merin’s softly curling hair did not stick out in all directions, either, and neither of them had legs quite so long in proportion to their bodies. His penis was more than large enough, but it was not
that
large. A few things were exaggerated, and that was as annoying as the impossible accuracy of the carvings.
“It seemed like an impulsive choice,” she whispered. “To wake and climb upon you, to make love while the sun rose. And yet here . . . It looks as if neither of us had any choice when it comes to what brought us here.” A crushing sadness fell upon her. Did this mean her love for Merin wasn’t real? That his love for her was somehow fabricated?
“Well, we do have a choice when it comes to where we go and what we do now,” Merin said, his voice as hard as the stone which surrounded them.
He pointed, and Bela followed his direction. The next carving depicted them inside a crumbling cave, and from there the string of images went crooked; it drifted high and low and it curled. At first glance it looked as if they had three choices, and each choice would bring them to a different end.
LEYLA
wanted, very badly, to lay Savyn upon the blankets which had become their bed and make love to him. She wanted to comfort him the only way she knew how, with her body, but to do so would undo all that she had sacrificed for him. She wanted Savyn to have a good life, free of his commitment to her, and for that to happen, she had to be willing to walk away, to let him go.
Most of all, she wanted him to see. She wanted him to smile again, to laugh, to
look
at her with eyes that smoldered.
Instead, she led him to the bed and told him to sit while she put together a crude and tasteless breakfast from what she’d found in Trinity’s saddlebags. Hard biscuits, dried meat. The apples were already gone.
“I thought today I’d explore a bit and see if I can find some wild berries,” she said, trying to inject a carefree tone in her voice. “It is the right season for redberries, and soon there should be blue, as well. It will be nice to have something to eat besides hard, dried food.” All of it taken from an assassin’s possessions. She did not add that point aloud, but the thought crossed her mind, and she imagined it crossed Savyn’s as well.
“You said you were going to town to make some purchases when we found ourselves low on supplies.” Savyn leaned against the wall and drew one long leg in, making himself as comfortable as possible in the small hut.
Leyla hesitated. She could not tell him that she wasn’t ready to leave him alone or that she didn’t think she could manage getting him to town. He had become comfortable enough in this small place, but to be out in the open, to travel, to be among strangers in his condition, would be confusing and frightening.
“I don’t feel like going to the village today,” Leyla said. “Maybe tomorrow, or the next day. There is no hurry.”
“Are you afraid?” Savyn asked, his voice soft and kind.
“No,” she said truthfully. She was not afraid for herself, at least.
“What if he’s there? What if Trinity comes back for you? For us.” It was evident in Savyn’s voice that his concern was not for himself.
“He won’t. Trinity is far from this place by now, I guarantee. And if by some chance he were to see me . . . he would not dare to harm me.” In fact, he would likely run from her in terror.
If she’d known what the assassin had done to Savyn, she might’ve killed him on the road. She might’ve instructed him to take his own life. But she had not known, and perhaps that was just as well. A quick death was too good for one such as Trinity.
She sat beside Savyn, took his hand, and placed a bit of biscuit upon it. “Eat this first.” The hard biscuit was followed by water from the dented tin cup he had been given by a farmer’s wife so many days ago, then by dried meat and more water. She made him feed himself, this time she even made him lead the cup to his lips. There were a few missteps along the way, but eventually he did well. She hated the way his eyes remained dull and unfocused. She hated that he did not, could not, look at her.
Even after he was finished, Leyla remained sitting beside him, the plate and empty tin cup in her lap. Savyn breathed deeply once, then reached out and very accurately found and gripped her wrist. One sun-bronzed finger rocked against her pale skin, and she wondered if he could feel the increase in her pulse.
“The blow to my head did more than take my sight,” he said, agony in his voice. “In my head I see things I should not see. Scents, sensations, visions—and they seem so real, even though they could not be. There were moments before I was hurt, I will admit, when I had thoughts I should not have had, but they were not like this. Those thoughts were not so real, so vivid. I think I must be going mad, Leyla. I think . . .” He dropped her wrist and withdrew, as much as was possible in the small space. “Never mind. My head aches all the time and I’m not thinking clearly. I’m confused and angry and reaching for something which could not possibly be real.”
Leyla held her breath. He could not remember them! It was impossible. “What makes you say such a thing?” she asked, needing more information in order to know what he was seeing and sensing in his mind.
“It is unimportant. Berries,” he said, the tone of his voice taking a sharp and oddly happy turn. “I would love to have a handful of redberries, if you can find some.”
MERIN
walked near the wall as he studied the carvings there. Thanks to the light given off by the crystals which filled the cavern, he could see the details well enough.
More
than well enough.
Had a powerful seer long ago seen the choices he and Bela would make, or had their choices been made for them? Had they been led to this point, or was this simply destiny?