Fire of the Soul (12 page)

“Oh, Mallory, you make me so happy, so
contented.”

“I am glad,” he whispered, hiding his
irritation with her. He felt nothing for her except annoyance and a
vague distaste for her looks, but he didn’t want to make her angry.
Not yet, at least. After his scheme was complete he wouldn’t care
what she thought of him. She could hate him then, if she wanted.
But at the moment Fenella held the key to everything that Mallory
was determined to have. Thanks to his marriage to her, he was
already the guardian of the young lord of Kinath, and of the lord’s
younger brother, too.

Of course, the boys would have to be disposed
of. That shouldn’t be difficult to accomplish. Children died easily
and often, especially in wintertime, when illnesses abounded.
Perhaps Fenella’s younger son ought to die during the coming
winter. Yes, the younger boy first, so no one would suspect that
their new stepfather was trying to do away with the heir. He could
afford to wait another year or two before finishing off the older
boy.

Mallory’s goal was to become the rightful
lord of Kinath, taking the place of Fenella’s late husband, Kinen.
That would be sweet revenge indeed, for Kinen had been the father
of Garit of Kinath, and Garit was the man whom Mallory considered
primarily responsible for his own father’s fall from favor at the
Sapaudian court. Because of Garit, Walderon of Catherstone had died
a traitor’s death and Mallory had lost the position he’d long
believed was secure.

Ah, but Mallory was going to have his full
revenge against Garit. He was going to take everything that Garit
held dear. He would prove himself Walderon’s true and loyal son,
and in the end he’d hold a greater position than seneschal of
Catherstone. Mallory would be a lord in his own right and the sons
of Kinen of Kinath would die. All three of them would die...slowly
and painfully.

The thought of the deliciously brutal revenge
he was planning hardened his body all over again before he could
completely withdraw from Fenella. She caught her breath and twisted
beneath him in renewed pleasure.

“You do want me. Oh, I knew you’d grow to
care,” Fenella whispered as she nibbled on his earlobe. “Mallory,
my love, my dearest husband, come into me again. Pleasure me
again.”

Mallory kept his eyes closed so he’d not have
to look at her freckles. He couldn’t close his ears, though, and
her cries of ecstasy only added to his delight. This was the woman
whom Kinen of Kinath had bedded. Too bad she wasn’t Garit’s real
mother, but a stepmother would do equally well as the receptacle
for his seed. The woman herself didn’t matter.

Truly, Mallory thought as renewed lust very
briefly overcame his senses, he and his father were much alike.

Calia came awake abruptly as
The Kantian
Queen
pitched forward at a steep angle. Fighting the motion of
the ship she sat up and looked around. A grey light entered the
cabin through the slats of the shutter covering the porthole. By
that pale illumination she could make out the shapes of the bunks
and of the table bolted to the floor under the porthole. The
pitcher and basin slid against the rail that confined them, then
slid to the other side of the tabletop. The cloaks and dresses
hanging on the wall hooks swayed back and forth. The ship’s timbers
creaked.

When
The Kantian Queen
rolled
sideways, Mairne shrieked and grabbed the edge of the upper bunk to
keep herself from falling out of bed. On the other side of the
cabin Lady Elgida muttered a not entirely ladylike oath.

“What’s happening?” Mairne cried. “Are we
sinking?”

“Of course not,” Lady Elgida told her. “It’s
only a storm, and not a very severe one, either. Lie down, Mairne.
Stay where you are. Otherwise, you’ll be bumping around the cabin
and may hurt yourself. Or me, if you fall on me.”

“I can’t lie down,” Mairne complained. “If I
do, I’ll lose last night’s dinner. Oh no! I think I’m going to lose
it, anyway. Ohhh!”

Calia was out of bed before Mairne could
finish her wail of distress. She reached into the cabinet under the
table, grabbed the chamber pot, and held it up to Mairne. Just in
time, too.

“Wonderful,” Lady Elgida declared, showing no
sympathy at all. “Mairne, you foolish girl, why didn’t you tell me
that you are made ill by the motion of a ship? If you had warned me
before we departed from Saumar, I’d have left you behind and spared
all of us this discomfort.”

“I didn’t know,” Mairne said, weeping. “I’ve
never been on a ship before. I wasn’t sick yesterday.”

“Yesterday the sea was smooth as glass,” Lady
Elgida said. “Will you stop moaning and groaning and fussing? I’d
like a bit more sleep.”

With her own stomach feeling a bit unsteady,
Calia bit her tongue on the criticism she longed to hurl at Lady
Elgida. Instead, she opened the porthole and tossed out the
contents of the chamber pot, then rinsed it and tossed that out,
too. The leftover water in the pitcher was cold, so she moistened a
towel in it and handed it to Mairne.

“Wipe your face with this,” she said. “I’ll
find a cup, so you can rinse out your mouth.”

“Shut the window,” Lady Elgida ordered,
tugging her quilt up to her chin.

Calia did not immediately obey. The air
blowing into the cabin was pleasantly cool, with only a faint
spattering of rain borne into the room by the wind. After a few
deep breaths her queasiness departed. She looked at Mairne, who was
sitting on the side of the upper bunk with one hand pressed against
her mouth and the other clutching the wooden bed frame to keep
herself from falling when the next forward pitch arrived.

“Come down here and stand by the porthole,”
Calia said to her. “I’m sure the fresh air will help to settle your
stomach.”

Mairne descended from the bunk with less
agility than she had shown the night before while climbing into it.
With Calia’s arm around her, she stood close to the open porthole
for a time.

“This is much better. Thank you.” She laid
her head on Calia’s shoulder. “You are always so kind to me.”

“If by that remark you mean that I am unkind,
you are mistaken,” Lady Elgida said. “I merely refuse to coddle
anyone, as you ought to know by now.”

“I do know it,” Mairne agreed at once. “Least
of all do you coddle yourself. My dear lady, I am sorry for
disturbing you.”

“Well, now that we are all awake, I’d like
some food,” Lady Elgida said, a declaration that made Mairne gulp
and move closer to the porthole.

“Come, Mairne,” Calia said, patting the
girl’s shoulder. “Let us dress and go on deck. We’ll find a safe
place for you to stand or sit while I speak to the cook. Lady
Elgida, I beg you, do not try to rise while you are alone. If you
fall and hurt yourself, Captain Pyrsig will be obliged to put into
the nearest port to find a physician, and you will have to alter
your plan to visit Kantia.” It was the direst threat she could
think of at the moment and it received a typical response.

“Impertinent child, do not order me about.”
Lady Elgida swung her legs over the side of her bunk, then promptly
fell backward at the ship’s next motion. “Very well, I grant you
may be right on this one point. Just help me to use the chamber pot
and then I’ll lie down again until you return. Mayhap, while you
are gone, I’ll be able to enjoy the sleep I am missing.”

Calia found it difficult to dress while
stumbling around the cabin and trying to help the other two women
into their clothes. But at length she and Mairne were ready. Lady
Elgida was dressed, too, and lying atop the straightened covers of
her bunk. At her repeated order, Calia finally closed and latched
the cover over the porthole.

Slowly, holding onto whatever solid objects
they could find along the way, Calia and Mairne left the cabin and
climbed the ladder to the deck. Anders met them, entering the
hatchway as they exited from it.

“It’s not safe on the open deck. You should
stay below,” he warned them. “I was just coming to ask if you
wanted to break your fast.” He indicated the flat, covered basket
he was carrying.

“Mairne isn’t feeling well,” Calia explained.
“Can you find a place where she could sit without being swept
overboard?”

“I’ll do more than that,” Anders said. “I’ll
stay with her, if you will deliver Garit’s food to him. I’ve
brought bread and cheese and a pitcher of ale. There’s enough for
you and Lady Elgida, too. Just go back down the ladder and I’ll
hand the basket to you. I was wondering how to climb down with no
hand free, when you appeared,” he ended with a grin.

A few moments later Calia was standing at the
door to the cabin that Garit shared with his squire and with Lord
Durand, who had brought no squire with him. She knocked once and
the door swung open. The cabin was similar to the one she and Lady
Elgida were sharing, with room for four bunks, one above the other.
The single porthole stood open, with a table under the porthole
that held a pitcher and basin.

“Is the storm so bad that you need help with
the door?” Garit asked. Then, seeing Calia, he added, “I beg your
pardon. I thought you were Anders or Lord Durand.”

“I haven’t seen Lord Durand. Anders is above
with Mairne, who is ill. I asked him to look after her until Lady
Elgida has eaten. The thought of food seems to turn her stomach,
but the fresh sea air settles it.”

Calia tried to keep her gaze on his face, for
she had noticed with her very first glance that he was completely
unclothed. Obviously, she had interrupted his morning ablutions.
His face and hair shone with water and he held a small towel in one
hand. The stubble of a light brown, day-old beard roughened his
square chin. Life in a castle was anything but private, so she had
seen naked males before, perhaps too often for an unmarried girl,
though Mallory had tried to protect her for his own honor’s sake.
But no quick glimpse of a stable-boy or man-at-arms had ever
affected her as Garit’s hard-muscled body did. He bore a few scars
on his arms and his left side, scars which were not at all unusual
for a fighting man. Calia lacked the courage to look below his
waist to see if he carried the most common scars, on calves and
thighs. She knew that warriors often attempted to disable their
opponents by hobbling them or gelding them. She required no proof
that Garit remained a whole man. Her feminine senses told her all
she needed to know on that score.

“Excuse me a moment.”

He turned aside and then she did dare to
look. She saw taut buttocks, and calf and thigh muscles that were
heavier than those of most knights, who tended to develop large
shoulders and arms after years of practicing with sword and
Sapaudian lance, while their lower bodies were usually thinner
because they rode horses and seldom walked. Garit was remarkably
well proportioned, both above and below his waist.

She noted that he was aroused. She knew about
that, too, from her years of castle living, and she wondered if her
presence had caused Garit’s condition. The sight – and the
possibility that she was responsible – sent an unfamiliar jolt of
heat into her own insides. Even as she looked he snatched up a
quilt and wrapped it around his waist, tucking in one end to secure
the fabric.

“I apologize for disturbing you,” she said,
before she considered that he could understand her words in a way
she hadn’t meant.

“You didn’t disturb me. I merely assumed that
you were Anders because I’ve been waiting for him.” He took the
basket from her and set it on the bunk. “How is my grandmother this
morning? Not sick like Mairne, I hope?”

“Not likely.” Calia laughed, as much from her
own embarrassment as from amusement at the very idea of Lady Elgida
succumbing to sea sickness. “She insisted on dressing, though I was
able to convince her to remain on her bed unless someone is present
to catch her if the ship rolls unexpectedly. She claims to be
hungry, so I ought to take some of this food to her.”

“I would very much like to know how you
convinced her to do anything that she hadn’t already decided to
do,” Garit said.

“By threatening her with the immediate end of
her travels if she falls and injures herself.”

“Clever woman.”

The warm look he gave her seemed to pull
Calia closer to him. Knowing that she ought to leave at once, still
she remained by the cabin door for a moment or two, while he stood
beside the bunk, swaying a little as the ship pitched and then
rolled yet again.

When he had snatched up the quilt to cover
himself, he had thrown his towel onto the table where the pitcher
and basin sat. Feeling entranced, as if a mage had worked a sweet,
mind-numbing spell on her, Calia slowly crossed the cabin, took the
towel, and used it to dab at his still moist chest and shoulders.
Garit caught his breath and then caught the hand with the towel,
holding it well away from his body.

“You should not do that,” he said, his voice
harsh. “You have no idea what you are doing.”

“I am drying you before you take a chill.”
Truly, she did not understand what magic was holding her. She knew
better than to remain alone with a man who was unclothed. The
knowledge of what lay beneath the quilt that he wore as if it were
the finest raiment heated her cheeks and sent a flame curling into
her heart. Yet her mind refused to command her feet to move to the
door.

What was happening to her wasn’t Garit’s
fault. Lady Elgida had told her that he possessed no Power and on
his first day at Saumar, Calia had tested him for herself, probing
very cautiously, so he wouldn’t guess that she was hiding her own
Power.

“Calia.” He took the towel from her.

“Yes, Garit.” She did not move.

She heard the hiss of air expelled between
his teeth, as if he had been holding his breath for a long time
with his jaw clenched. Then she was in his arms, his cheek against
hers, his beard scratching her skin.