In the Caves of Exile Read online

  “I suppose we shouldn't have been surprised to find them there, considering,” Ylia said. The girl finished her braiding, began to rub Ylia's shoulders.

  “I—no, we shouldn't have. One doesn't like to think about it. You're tense.”

  “No, stiff. And bruised. I had a full-grown Tehlatt warrior fall on top of me, remember?”

  “Ugh.” Lisabetha shivered. “How you did that, just went in there like that, I'll never understand.”

  And yet you want sword-training?”

  Lisabetha sighed. “I do. Whether it'll make me any braver—or if you just don't think when it comes to the point, I don't know. But I'm not going to be caught helpless as I was the once. Not ever again.”

  “Good. That's part of it, you know. It's not bravery like—well, like Bren used to think of it. Something you are, something you do. At least, I don't think it is,” Ylia qualified. “A thing has to be done, you have to do it. “You don't think, you don't think about what might happen to you. I don't. The moment comes, you have to take that one step forward, and you just do it. That's all.” She smiled up at her young friend—more like a sister, anymore, than Lady or friend. “But you know that.”

  “I?”

  “On the ledges. Remember?”

  Lisabetha shook her head. “That was different.”

  “No. Think about it. I hope you never have to face such a thing again, but if you do, I'm not afraid for you. Not for your courage.” She stood and stretched, very slowly and cautiously indeed, and with full awareness of her aching muscles. “How long til evening-meal?”

  “It's all confused out there, but there's food now, if you're hungry. They're just starting to set things out.”

  “I can wait, then. Ask your father and mother if they'll eat with me, I'll be out shortly. And do you know if Erken's back yet?”

  “I don't think so. And I'll find Father.” She scooped up the copper on her way out. Ylia stretched again. Water and fresh air, and a little sky overhead presented themselves as definite needs, suddenly. She was limping slightly. She'd turned her ankle somehow last night, probably when she fell. But she was otherwise unhurt. Stiff. But luckier than anyone deserves, she thought and followed the thought up with Golsat's warding gesture.

  Erken hadn't returned yet, though she found him with a mind-search from the outer ledges. He was on his way back, and would no doubt arrive by the next afternoon. She just sat awhile after that, for the sun was warm, the wind almost nothing.

  Shielding—Lyiadd had been generous with his instruments. If Nisana had been much more tired, or if the old man had been a little younger and more skilled with what he had, the cat might have come off second?—she couldn't think dead.

  But it had come back, as all things did: or so the old ways said, the pattern was never lost, and what of it went out of sight was merely hiding on the back side of the loom, to emerge later. She'd revenged Bren, when she killed Lyiadd. She'd revenged Father, Mother—her people—on Kaltassa. Kanatan must look to his second or third wife for an heir now, and must find himself another shaman. One without a mantle of blood-red light for eyes that could see it, one without a means of speech with their likewise-dead war god. Golsat had gone to rescue the man who'd first taken his armsman's vows and had found his mother, a sister.

  But poor Ysian. Well, she'd learned, though in a way Ylia'd never meant. Not my choosing, that. She'd return to safety, to Yslar; she'd patch up her quarrel with the Sirdar and his council, with her family. Nisana would miss her—I'll miss her myself, Ylia realized in sudden surprise. But Aresada was no place for a true lady, and the valley wouldn't be either, at least not yet.

  Besides, Ylia wondered, what would Ysian think when she realized how many of the younger men watched her with heart in eyes? Including, the Mothers aid him, Golsat?

  The council-meeting the next night was a very short one, set originally to brief Lord Corry and Lady Lossana on their situation. But Erken rode in partway through the meeting and came straight down before meal or a wash: he reeked of horse, smoke and garlic in equal parts.

  So quickly did he travel from the horse-lines near the bridge to Ylia's council-chamber, in fact, that he had no news of the rescue, and he gaped like a boy when his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit, mom. “Mothers’ justice,” he breathed finally, “it's my Lord Corlin!” Corlin pushed to his feet—he was still weak and painfully thin—and embraced the Duke. “And the Lady,” Erken went on, still stunned, Lossana smiled up at him. Even the least speech tired her, but she no longer looked as haggard, or as old.

  “They found us and brought us here,” Corlin said. He smiled at Erken, pounded his back. “Gods and Mothers, but it's good to see you again!”

  “Found you?” Erken caught at that much. “Where?”

  It's a long tale, too long for council. One you'll hear all too often the next few days,” Marhan said. “Ask your men, Faric and Pereden. They were in on it.”

  Ask anyone,” Brelian laughed. “Including Redoran, Bnolon's minstrel. He's already made a song of it.” Erken turned back to Corlin.

  “You're worn, my good friend, and much too thin: You should be resting.”

  “Not’ just yet,” Corlin said, though he resumed his seat gratefully, Lossana took his hand in hers and he clutched her fingers tightly. “We wanted to know how things went, what aid we can give. And they tell me we've already another place to have, now that the Plain has been taken from us. And that you've just come from there, Erken.” And, as Erken continued to eye him with concern, “We've slept, and such minor harms as we had have been cared for. Worry over things not properly known or understood gnaw at us both now. You know how that is, Erken.”

  “If you say so,” Erken said, but he resumed his own seat. “My news should wait for last. Pride of place,” he added with a faint smile.

  “Fine,” Marckl said. He was practically twitching in his impatience to get things moving. “Lord Corlin, if I may, your men never came to Aresada, and we've none of your maps for the caches you sent here.”

  “I know they never came. They never made it out of my halls. I have an imperfect memory, but I daresay I can be of more aid than a blind search. We used back chambers, where beasts and men wouldn't be as likely to go, and where it was drier. And there were pits, man-dug, one or two, if I recall correctly. We made good use of those.”

  “They must be well disguised or far back indeed,” Ifney said. “We've found nothing like a pit so far, and no sign of human tampering farther back, save the chalk-marks your daughter's left to guide her when her rope runs out.”

  “Good girl,” Corlin said warmly. “I knew she'd prove useful, Lady Ylia.” Lisabetha stirred, embarrassed; subsided as Brelian touched her hand and smiled.

  “She has indeed, and I'll tell you how much someday when there's time,” Ylia replied. “Well. You've seen how many people we have here. But most of Koderra is in Yslar; waiting for transport.”

  “You got them out, then. Good.” The smile faded; his son had carried the warning and died bringing it. Lossana tightened her hold on his fingers, and he patted her hand.

  “Mostly. It's been hard here, and there hasn't been much to eat, but we've managed. We sent to Nar for aid and they've already made contract with us for woolen cloth. You'll be invaluable in setting that up, and arranging other trade.”

  Good. I'd hoped to be of some use.”

  “I can set up the weaving,” Lossana said. “Unless it's already organized. I can help.”

  “'We've arranged for raw wool from Nar to supplement our own, but nothing else. I'd be grateful if I could leave that to you.”

  “Of course.”

  “We've something of a herd, all massed at present. Enough to start with. We've hunters and fishers.”

  “Seed we'll have, when more of the caches come to light,” Ifney said. “And we've received iron from the Narrans for our smith to supplement what tools and swords we have.”

  “We'll survive, then,” Corlin said.

  �
��No doubt of it, sir.” Marckl nodded. He turned to Erken. “What've you found, then?”

  “It's just as described to us. Warmer than here. I'm assured the soil is workable and that the land itself is good. The size is enough and to spare for present, but eventually we'll be able to spread out: there's a series of interconnected valleys and dells to the north, another valley not far west that's similar to the main one but half the size.

  “The main stream that flows through the valley is something short of a river, but smaller transport rafts and the like—will do well. It flows straight into the Aresada, and there's a still water at the mouth, almost a natural harbor. It won't be difficult at all to make docks there, and warehousing for storage.

  “There's plenty of wood for building, and stone. Game is as plentiful there as here. Have I left out anything?”

  “Gold in the river and gems in the foothills,” Ifney retorted readily, but he was grinning.

  “I wanted to leave half my men and the three farmers I had with me, but sense and caution prevailed. We'll gather everything together we can, though, and start back—” he thought hard—"in two days’ time. Sooner, if we can.”

  “You'll have my aid,” Marckl replied. “I've got men already picked for you, if you'll take ’em.”

  “And I've got those who know how to build fast and sturdy,” Ifney added.

  “Good. I'll take anyone you've got.” Erken yawned, smothered it with a grubby hand.

  “Go get a wash and some food,” Ylia urged him. “And sleep. You can't have had much.”

  “I haven't.” He smiled as he turned at the curtained entrance. “Nearly forgot: we found wild garlic and onion all over the hillsides.”

  “We guessed,” Ylia replied dryly. “It even overcomes two days of horse. Lord Corry, unless you and Lady Lossana have anything to ask, or if there's anything we didn't mention; you might as well’ go get some rest, too.”

  “You've reassured us. I think I can sleep now.” Corlin stood. “I'll meet with you tomorrow, when you have time, to go over what the Narrans want, and what they've offered in return. And I'll think on those caches. Though it's a pity Davica and Hordic didn't leave Teshmor in good time.”

  “We'll manage, sir,” Brelian put in diffidently. “We have, so far.”

  “So we will. My Lady?” And, as Lisabetha came around to go with them, “You needn't come, sweet. We're going directly back to sleep. And I think your young man might welcome your company. You've neglected him shamefully the past day or so.”

  “Father!” Lisabetha protested weakly. Brelian opened his mouth, stared blankly and shut it again. Corlin tipped his wife a wink and led her away. Ylia bit back a laugh, aware that Marckl and Ifney, both terribly sharp-eyed, had caught that wink also. Corlin was well aware how things stood between his only child and Brelian. Given Brelian's new status, it was a suitable match for any nobleman's daughter. Not that Corlin would have forbidden them. He had a soft spot for his daughter, and Brelian had saved her life more than once.

  But Corlin was following a time-honored pattern: he'd make the young man sweat before he finally gave his consent.

  Ifney and Marckl gave Ylia their promised lists after Corlin left.

  “That was quick work. Thank you. There'll be a lot of parceling to do.” Ylia fought a yawn, stifled it behind her lips. Her ears popped. “What I'd like, if you'll do it, you and Marckl, is for you to ride out with Erken. You've done a lot here, but you'll be more use there.”

  “I'd like that,” Ifney said. “I'd like to see this stillwater firsthand. There's bound to be a lot of work to it, but we'll need that wharf early, and I'd like to get started at it.”

  “I've a good eye for laying roads,” Marckl put in with surprising modesty. “We'll need those soon, too.”

  She shook her head. “I'm leaving that all to you, Marckl. You, Ifney and Erken. I've already got my hands full here.”

  They were gone, finally. She fought another yawn, stretched. Pulled, tired muscles ached. The healing had helped them. Doubtless she'd have stayed flat on her back without it, but she was still stiff. At least the ankle was a normal size again. That had hurt bad, and she hadn't even been aware when she did it.

  The curtain rippled, and Ysian pushed through, Nisana in her arms.

  “You shouldn't be here,” Ylia began. Ysian shook her head, but gratefully sank into one of the chairs. There were now four around the table, counting her own, thanks to Ifney's wood-workers. Ysian was still pale, and her eyes were haunted. Ylia dropped into the chair next to her, ruffled Nisana's fur. The cat opened one eye, closed it again and rumbled herself back to sleep.

  'I'm fine,” Ysian insisted. She visibly wasn't. She brought up a weak smile. “I—I just can't believe how you lied to those men, telling them my strength was equal to yours!”

  “It is. You just haven't had to use it recently like I have.”

  “Not ever,” Ysian whispered. “Don't look like that. You didn't kill me. I went into it with all your warnings echoing in my ears, it wasn't as though you hadn't told me. I just—I couldn't imagine things as horrible as that, that's all. It—it would take getting used to, wouldn't it?”

  “It's not always like that. That was bad. Look at me! But we have other enemy in the mountains. Mathkkra. Thullen. You know, it could be that bad again. It's been worse.” Ylia laid a hand on her arm. “I'm not trying to upset you, honestly, Ysian. I just want you to know.”

  Ysian smiled wanly. “Well—I guess I know. It's—do you know what surprises me most; thinking about it? I'm ashamed.”

  “Ashamed? Why? You have nothing to feel shame for, Ysian! You held out as well as any of us.”

  “I didn't. But that's not why. I'm taking your advice, your first advice. I'm going to crawl back to Court and make the Sirdar put me back on the council.” A brief grin touched her face. “Ardyel will be properly furious, and Father will probably try to disown me. That promises to be amusing.” She sobered again. “It's the fact that I'm quitting, that I'm giving up. That's what's shaming.”

  “You're not quitting, you're showing sense. Ysian, it's not that we don't want you. You know that we do!”

  “I know.” One slender hand stroked dark fur, bringing up a purr that filled the room, slowly faded and died away.

  “It's not what it would have been, if we'd still had the Plain. And you weren't prepared.”

  “Next time, I will be.” There was grim promise in her voice. She met Ylia's eyes. “There will be a next time, you know that.”

  “I don't doubt it. I'm glad that's how you feel. I want you back.”

  “Good. It's an astonishing thing, to learn so much about yourself, so fast. I found out I'm not brave at all. And I did things anyway, just as though it didn't matter. I'm proud of that, anyway.” Ysian shook her head. The long plait she'd persuaded Malaeth to work flew across her shoulder.

  Ylia took her hand. “I'm proud of you, too. You did well, don't forget that. Without you, we might not all have made it back.” She hesitated. “Before you go, talk to Golsat. He helped me sort things like this out, and not very long ago. He'll help you.”

  “I'd like that. If he doesn't mind.” Ysian sighed. “When I come back it will be for good. I mean that, Ylia.”

  “Then talk to Golsat.”

  “I can help you with your trade, from Yslar.”

  “We'd appreciate that.”

  “Don't go all formal on me, girl! You make me feel old and already gone.”

  “Sorry.”

  “And I know you'd appreciate it. You need it and I can help. It's something I'm good at. If I stayed—I can't picture me in one of your sword classes, can you?”

  Ylia laughed. “You never saw Lisabetha before she began!”

  “I wager she's not afraid of knives like I am, though. I hurt myself on sharp things, always have. Don't like them. I can't think why you still use knives and swords. You don't need to anymore, girl.”

  “You always had your Powers. I didn't. I needed s
word for protection and also because I was heir, after my brother died. I had to have weapon-training then. I'd have wanted it anyway. Something Father and I had in common; Mother never understood either of us.”

  “She wouldn't.” Ysian shifted Nisana and stood. The cat resettled herself to the curve of Ysian's shoulder, purred softly. “I don't understand how I can still be so tired. It's not sense.”

  “Reaction.”

  “Perhaps. I'm hungrier than tired, though, at the moment. I'd better go. Malaeth said to come down to the kitchens and she'd find me food. I missed evening meal.”

  “It wasn't worth waking up for, there was an odd flavor to the stew and it put my appetite off. But Malaeth never, ever would send you to the kitchens. You must have misunderstood.”

  “Well,” Ysian smiled from the entrance, “she said she'd bring it here, but I thought you might like to avoid her. Until she runs out of things to blame on you. At least until your shirt comes clean!”

  “That's a thought.”

  “So I told her I would go there when I was done talking with you. There's a trick to it,” Ysian said sweetly. “You just have to know how to manage her.”

  “Teach me that,” Ylia demanded. Ysian laughed, shook her head.

  “It took me years to learn, and I don't think my methods would work for you. Besides, anyone who'd challenge a barbarian the way you did can't possibly be afraid of one old lady.”

  “They aren't even on the same level,” Ylia began, but Ysian laughed again and left her. She sought out Golsat, then, as she had been advised, but what passed between them Ylia never knew for certain.

  The next morning Ysian left with the Narrans, traveling this time only in what she wore: She left the rest of her clothing for Malaeth to distribute; her colored threads and needles, a length of pale green silk went to Lisabetha for her bride-box, and a curiously woven shawl of Holthan goat-hair to Lossana.