Read The Shattered Chain Online

Authors: Marion Zimmer Bradley

Tags: #Unknown, #Usernet, #C429, #Kat, #Extratorrents

The Shattered Chain (7 page)

Nira thanked her. “Now, if that bastard Jalak doesn’t poison his weapons—one hears such things of Dry-Town men—”

“He does not,” Melora said quietly beside them, and Rohana rose, folding what remained of the torn shift, to see her cousin standing there. Her face was dim in the moonlight, but even so it looked swollen and unhealthy. “Jalak would think that a coward’s way; it would mean he did not believe his blows were strong enough to kill, and he would lose
kihar
—lose prestige, you would say, be shamed before, his peers, if he stooped to a poisoned blade.”

Nira got up awkwardly; grimacing as she put weight on her wounded leg. Her boot crunched on sand as she drew it on. She said wryly, “That is a comforting thought, Lady, but is it fact, or is it a sentiment seemly for a loving wife?”

“It is true, on the honor of my House,” said Melora quietly, but her voice trembled, “and only my own Gods know how little I was a loving wife to Jalak, or anything else but a pawn to his filthy pride.”

“I meant no offense,” Nira said, “but I make no apology either, Lady. You dwelt in his house a full thirteen years, and you did not die. I would not have lived to shame my kinsmen so, even though my father is no great Comyn lord but a small-farmer in the Kilghard Hills.”

“You have shed blood in my service,
mestra;
could I take offense, unless my pride were as great and evil as Jalak’s own? As for my own life—can you see in the darkness?” She thrust out her wrists, took Nira’s fingers in her own and guided them. Rohana, watching, touching, saw and felt the rough calluses from the metal bracelets on the chains; and above them on each darkly tanned wrist, a long, ragged, seamed scar. “I will bear them to my death,” she said. “And after that, I was chained day and night-chained so tight I could not feed myself and had to be fed by the women and carried to the bath and to the latrines.” Her voice shook with anger and remembered humiliation. “By the time I had healed, my child had quickened in me, and I would not kill the unborn with my own death.” She looked at the dark form of her daughter, huddled and lost in sleep, saying, “How did you get her away? Jalak had given her into the charge of his fiercest woman-guard. … ”

Leeanne had come back from the hilltop in time to hear this last; she said: “There is no sign of pursuit so far; not even a sand-rat seems to be stirring between here and Shainsa. As for your daughter’s nurse, Lady, she sleeps past any waking; I do not like to kill women, but she came at me with a dagger. I was sorry to kill her before the child’s eyes, but I had little choice.”

“I will not weep for that one,” said Melora with a grimace. “Indeed I think there will be small weeping for her, even in Jalak’s house. She was my chief jailer before Jaelle was born, and I hated her worse than Jalak’s own self. He was cruel because it was his nature and he had been reared to be so; but she was cruel because she found pleasure in the pain of others. I trust Zandru will delight in her company in hell; to be sure he will be the only one who has ever found such pleasure. Had I ever been trusted with a weapon again, even at table, I would have sunk it into her throat before turning it on myself.” She turned to Rohana; for the first time there was a moment to exchange a quick, awkward embrace.
“Breda
… I am still not sure this is no dream, that I will not waken in Jalak’s bed.”

With the touch of Melora’s swollen hands in hers, Melora’s wet face pressed against her own, the rapport wakened again; Melora’s mind lay open to her, and more: sharp physical discomfort, pain. Rohana thought, panicked,
Can she ride? Will she go into labor here and now, in the desert, far from help, delaying us …?

Gently, Melora loosed Rohana’s hands and the contact lessened. “It is easy to see you know little of the Dry Towns. May you never have cause to know more! I would have been expected to ride, even nearer to my time than this. Don’t worry about me,
breda.”
Her voice broke in a sob. “Oh, it is so good, just to speak to you in our own tongue. …”

Rohana was desperately uneasy about her; she was not highly skilled in midwifery, but as mistress of Ardais she had seen many births; she knew Melora needed rest and care. But the Amazons, at Kindra’s signal, were already mounting again, and indeed there seemed no choice.

Kindra came to inspect, briefly, Nira’s bandaged wound. “So far there is no sign of pursuit, but with dawn someone will certainly find Jalak—or his corpse. And I would greatly prefer not to fight Jalak’s men, or end my days chained in a Shainsa brothel.”

Even in the dim light Melora’s smile was perceptible. “It may be there will be no pursuit; most likely Jalak’s heirs have found him dead and are already squabbling over his property and his wives, and the tenancy of the Great House. The last thing they would want would be to recapture a son of his with a valid claim!”

“Aldones grant it be so,” said Kindra, “yet some kinsman of Jalak might seek
kihar
by avenging him—or some rival might want to make very sure any son with a valid claim did not survive him.”

Melora gave Rohana’s hands a convulsive squeeze, but her voice was calm. “I can ride as far as I must.” Her eyes went to her sleeping daughter. “Can I have her with me on my own saddle?”

“Lady, you are heavy; your horse should not carry such a doubled weight,” Kindra said. “Those of us who ride lightest will take turns to carry her, so that she can sleep a little longer. Can she ride? We have a spare horse for her, if she can sit alone on a saddle.”

“She could ride almost as soon as she could walk,
mestra.”

“That will do for when she wakes, then; for now, she can sleep,” said Kindra, and lifted Jaelle, still sleeping, to her own saddle; she clambered up beside her, while Rohana assisted her cousin to mount. She was fearfully clumsy, and seemed unsteady in the saddle, but Rohana said nothing. There was nothing to say; Kindra was right and they both knew it. She gathered up her own reins, took the reins of Melora’s horse to lead it onward across the desert.

Melora was gazing wistfully toward the sunrise. “At this hour, I always long for—oh, I don’t know—some snow, or rain, anything but the eternal sand and hot dry wind.”

Rohana said softly, “If the Gods will,
breda,
within a tenday you will be back again in our hills and see the snow at every sunrise.” Melora smiled, but shook her head. “I can ride now, and guide my own horse, if you think it better.”

“Let me lead it, for now at least,” Rohana said, and Melora nodded and leaned back in her saddle, bracing herself as best she could against the motion of the beast.

The sun rose, and Rohana saw, as the miles went by under the feet of their horses that the character of the land had changed. Flat, barren sand-desert had given way to low, rolling hills as far as the eye could see, and a low scruffy ground cover of thorn-trees and gray feathery spicebush. At first the smell was pleasant, but after a few hours of riding through it, Rohana felt that if she ever again ate spice bread at Midwinter Festival it would choke her. Her throat was dry; she almost regretted the wine she had not been able to drink. Hour by hour Melora seemed more unsteady in her saddle, but she made no word of complaint. Indeed, she did not speak at all, riding head down, her face stony-gray with effort and patience.

As the sun climbed the light grew fiercer, and the heat. Some of the Amazons drew loose folds of their shifts or tunics over their heads; Rohana did likewise, finding the heat preferable to the direct glare. She was beginning to wonder how long Melora could continue to ride—and she herself was weary and saddle-worn almost to the point of dropping from her saddle—when Leeanne, riding ahead, turned back, held up her hand and called to Kindra, who rode quickly ahead to join her, while the others came to a gradual halt.

After a moment Kindra came riding back. “In the next ravine there is a water hole; and some rocks for shelter from the sun. We can lie there during the heat of the day.” As they followed her along the path Leeanne indicated, Kindra dropped back to ride beside Rohana and Melora.

“How is it with you, Lady?”

Melora’s attempt at a smile only stretched her mouth a little. “As well as I can hope for,
mestra.
But I don’t deny I shall be glad to rest a little.”

“So shall we all. I wish I could spare you this. But—” She sounded apologetic, and Melora gestured her to silence. She said, “I know perfectly well that you and yours have put your heads in jeopardy for me, and more. God forbid I should complain about whatever you must do for your safety and ours.”

Something about the words made Rohana’s breath catch in her throat. Melora had sounded, for a moment, almost precisely her old self: gracious, gentle, with the winning courtesy she had shown to her peers and inferiors alike.
She spoke as she would have spoken when we were girls together in Dalereuth. Merciful Evanda, is there really any hope that one day she will be herself again, live out her life happy and free?

The water hole was a dull, glimmering sheet of water, less than twenty feet across; it looked pallid and unhealthy, but Kindra said the water was good. Behind it was a cluster of blackish-red, forbidding rocks, casting purple shadows on the sand, turning the omnipresent fluff of spicebush to a lavender shadow on the barren space. Even the shadow of the rocks made Rohana think more of snakes and scorpions than cool, inviting rest, but it was better than the burning glare of the Dryland sun at midday.

Rohana helped Melora to dismount, steadying her uneven steps. She guided her to a seat in the shadow of the rocks and went to lead her horse to the water, but Kindra stopped her. “Care for your kinswoman, Lady,” she said, taking the bridles of their horses, and, lowering her voice, “How does she, really?”

Rohana shook her head. “So far, she is managing. There is really no more I can say.” She knew perfectly well that anyone skilled in such matters would say that Melora should not ride at all. But Kindra knew that, too, and there was simply nothing to be done.

She said, “Are there any signs of pursuit?”

“So far, none,” said Leeanne, and Jaelle, who had slid down from her horse, came up to them, and stopped, shyly, at a little distance. She said, “How do you know we are not pursued,
mestra?”
She spoke the language of the mountain country with a faint accent, but understandably; and Kindra smiled at the child.

“I hear no sound of hooves with my ear to the ground; and there is no cloud of sand rising where men ride, within the distance my eyes can see.”

“Why, you are as good as Jalak’s best trackers, then,” said the little girl in wonder. “I did not know that women could be trackers.”

“Living in Shainsa, little lady, there is much you do not know about women.”

Jaelle said eagerly, “Will you tell me, then?”

“Perhaps when I have time; just for now, do you know enough about horses to know that these must be watered, and cooled?”

“Oh, I am sorry—am I delaying you? Can I help, then?”

Kindra handed the small girl the reins of the horse Melofa had ridden. “Walk him slowly back and forth, then, till his breathing quiets and the sweat is almost dry around his saddle. Then lead him to the water and let him drink what he will. Can you do that, do you think?”

“Oh, yes,” said Jaelle, and walked off, holding the horse’s reins. Kindra followed with Rohana’s horse, and Rohana stood, looking after Jaelle. She seemed tall for her age, lightly built, with delicate bones, her hair flaming red, hanging halfway down her narrow back; she wore the nightgown in which she had been wakened—fine-spun Dryland linen, smoothly loomed and embroidered—although one of the Amazons had put a short jacket, much too big for her, around her shoulders. Her feet were bare, but she walked on the hot sand without apparent discomfort. Rohana could not see that the child resembled Melora, except for her flaming hair; but there was no discernible resemblance to Jalak, either.

She returned to Melora, who had stretched out her clumsy body on her riding cape, and closed her eyes. Rohana looked at her with disquiet, then composed her face hurriedly as Melora opened her eyes. “Where is Jaelle?”

“She is helping Kindra to water the horses,” Rohana said. “Believe me, she’s quite safe and well, and seems not over-wearied by the ride.” Rohana lowered herself to the shade beside her cousin. “I wish I had even a little of her energy.”

Melora stretched out her thin fingers, clasping Rohana’s hand in hers as if hungry for the reassurance of the touch. “I can see how you have wearied yourself for me, too, cousin … How came you into the company of these—these women?
You
have not deserted husband and children as they do…?” The question was evident without words, and Rohana smiled in reassurance. “No, love. My marriage—as I knew it would be—is well enough: Gabriel and I are as happy as any other couple.”

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