Dark Dreams (41 page)

Her fingers locked on the plate. She had to break contact. With a burst of will that left her dizzy and breathless, she cast the plate aside. It flew out of her hands, spinning in the air, and crashed straight through the stained-glass window.

The sound of the shattering glass roused her. How could she be so stupid? She was too inexperienced to scry. The foreboding must have been a forewarning of Tulkhan’s death, not her baby’s.

‘T’Imoshen, are you hurt?’ Merkah threw the door open then gasped when she saw the smashed window. Lead curled like broken fingers, clasping at the empty air. ‘What happened?’

Imoshen had no idea what to say. She straightened. ‘Pack my things. Have my horse saddled. I ride out today.’

‘But –’

‘Now!’

Merkah ducked her head. Imoshen caught a flash of resentment in the maid’s face. She had been too sharp with the girl. Though she tried, she had never established the easy friendship she’d had with Kalleen.

Imoshen strode into her chamber where Merkah was already laying out her clothes. ‘No, nothing fancy. I am joining my bond-partner. I want riding clothes.’

The problem was nothing would do up over her belly. She tossed her dress aside and pulled on a pair of breeches, letting them ride under the swell of the baby. A borrowed shirt of Tulkhan’s was large enough to cover her stomach. It fell to her thighs, and while it was not suitable for court, it was presentable. She took her cloak to sleep under.

‘Who will be accompanying you, my lady?’

‘No one. I travel faster alone.’ And in disguise. She did not want any of Reothe’s people reporting her whereabouts to him.

She felt buoyant. If she could reach Tulkhan in time to warn him of the attack, then he would have to believe her loyalty. If she didn’t warn him he would die.

The need to get moving consumed her.

‘But my lady, you cannot go alone!’

‘No? I do not need a maid, or servants. I am not incompetent.’ Imoshen winced as she heard her tone.

Merkah stiffened, retreating behind a wall of offended dignity.

‘I am in a hurry,’ Imoshen said more gently. ‘Have the cook pack travelling food for me. I won’t have time to hunt.’

Before long she was in the stables strapping saddlebags to her horse. After a moment she sensed someone observing her. She glanced over her shoulder.

The Vaygharian. Anger consumed her.

He lifted his hands in a placating gesture. ‘This is not wise, Lady Protector. The General ordered me to watch over you.’

She made a rude noise. ‘I can smell a lie.’

‘At least take an escort,’ he demurred. ‘A woman in your condition cannot travel alone.’

Briefly she considered taking several of her stronghold guard but that would reveal who she was. She did not bother to reply to the Vaygharian, but took her horse’s reins and prepared to walk the beast out of the stall.

The Vaygharian caught her arm.

Quick as thought she flicked free of him and drew her knife, holding it to his throat. The horse sidled away. She nearly laughed as Kinraid glanced around uneasily.

‘I am only trying to serve you, Lady Protector.’

‘I know who you serve.’ She stepped closer. ‘I know what you are. Remember I looked into your soul and saw your death!’

He went pale. She caught the smell of fear on his skin. Her lips pulled back from her teeth in a grimace of disgust. ‘If you are here when I get back, I will slit your throat myself.’

‘That is not the way the ruler of Fair Isle treats an ambassador of Vayghar.’

‘No.’ She smiled. ‘It is the way I treat a traitor. General Tulkhan wants people to think he is civilised. I don’t care what people think.’

She stepped away and picked up the horse’s dangling reins. Silently she led her mount out. A dozen stable workers and palace servants gathered in the courtyard watching anxiously, but no one dared argue with her. She wondered who they would be serving this time next summer.

The rigours of the journey did not concern her. She had seen farm women work until the contractions started and had helped them deliver their babes on dirt floors. Then, once the proper words were said, those women would be on their feet preparing their family’s evening meal.

Imoshen had no illusions about the birth either. The powder of a pain-killing root was tucked into her travelling kit. She intended to brew a tea to sip during the worst of the pain.

Pulling the cloak over her silver hair, Imoshen led her horse through the silent streets of T’Diemn. All her energies must be focused on reaching the General before it was too late.

A
FTER FOUR DAYS
in the saddle, Imoshen was heartily sick of riding. It was not something she would recommend to anyone in the advanced stages of pregnancy. The action of the horse’s gait rocked her hips, triggering hot pokers of pain which shot down her legs without warning. Worse still, when she dismounted she found she could hardly walk.

On leaving T’Diemn she had heard a horse galloping behind her and had ridden into a grove of trees to escape pursuit. It was Crawen, leader of the stronghold guard, come to escort her. Imoshen was sorely tempted but in the end she had let her guard ride by.

She had concentrated on using her T’En gifts to cloak her appearance. When she emerged on the far side she knew the Vaygharian’s spies who followed her would not recognise her. They probably would not even notice her. She had chosen the form of a wandering T’En priest, a male at that.

But maintaining the illusion required deep concentration and once Crawen had ridden dispiritedly past her back to T’Diemn, Imoshen had let her concentration slip. It would be enough to will herself unnoticed when she saw people and to keep to the lesser known paths.

Now Imoshen’s heart lifted, for she would reach Tulkhan soon. She was in the foothills of the Keldon Highlands. Here the people were distrustful of strangers, but surely they would not turn aside a weary traveller? She urged her horse towards a plume of smoke rising into the oyster-shell gleam of the dusk sky.

Before long, she approached the smoke’s source, a crofter’s cottage built of local stone, its roof made of sods. The rich smell of simmering stew made her mouth water.

Crouched behind the bracken Imoshen watched an old man chop wood while an old woman herded the chickens and goat inside for the night. For them life was an ever-turning cycle of seasons. As the old couple went inside, Imoshen almost envied them their place in the scheme of things. It looked like a safe haven for the night.

Picking her way across the dim ground she approached the door and scratched.

The wizened little man opened the door a crack. ‘What do you want?’

‘Is this the way the Keld greet a weary traveller?’ Imoshen concentrated on projecting a bland image.

‘Plenty of strange comings and goings near here,’ the woman muttered from behind him. Her sharp old eyes took in Imoshen’s pregnancy.

Imoshen had found her advanced pregnancy made women eager to help her. Tonight she cloaked only her T’En colouring, to attempt anything more would have been too hard to sustain in her exhausted state.

‘That infant’s nearly due. Come in,’ the woman said.

Imoshen ducked her head to enter. ‘The babe has not dropped yet.’

The old woman clucked under her breath, sounding for all the world like the disapproving chickens sheltering in the far end of the cottage. The goat added its opinion.

Imoshen felt light-headed. ‘I can pay for food and lodging.’

The woman sniffed, offended.

‘As if we would take your coins!’ the old man muttered.

‘Thank you Grandmother, Grandfather.’ Imoshen used the honorific form of address for village elders. She watched as the old woman bustled around, stirring the food on the fire. When she saw the old woman check the bed of straw Imoshen told her, ‘No, Grandmother. I will sleep on the floor before the fire. I would not turn you out of your own bed.’

But she did long for some warm water to wash the grime off her body. She wanted to be clean when she met General Tulkhan. It was her one vanity.

Despite the pain in her hips, Imoshen went outside to see to her horse. Everything was a chore, removing the saddle, rubbing the horse down. The beast appeared happy enough on a short hobble, and would have sensed predators if there were any about. For once Imoshen felt safe.

When she returned, the old woman had served up a tasty stew with thick crusty bread. Imoshen ate it gratefully. Then exhaustion overtook her. She just managed to thank the old couple for their hospitality before slipping to the floor in front of the fire pit, her arms cradling her belly, her head on her saddlebag.

It had been her intention to wait until the old couple went to bed but sleep was irresistible. As she lost consciousness, she felt her cloaking illusion fade and knew her true identity would be revealed. She would have to put her trust in the old people.

H
ER MOUTH TASTED
foul.

Imoshen tried to swallow and gagged. Someone held a cup of water to her lips. It was elixir. She drank greedily. Cruelly, they took it away too soon.

It was still dark. Did she have a fever? She must remember to thank the old couple for bringing her water. At least she’d slept deeply. Since starting this journey she’d hardly been able to sleep through the night for the ache in her hips.

‘Thank you.’ The words were a croak. ‘Have I been feverish?’

‘No. You were drugged.’

Imoshen knew that voice. She struggled to sit up. Her companion would have helped her, but she pushed his hands aside. ‘Why is it still dark?’

‘It is the night of the following day. The old woman was free with the sleeping herb. She did not want you waking and taking your anger out on her.’

Imoshen moistened her lips. ‘You might as well light a candle, Drake. I know who you are.’

‘That doesn’t worry me. We were sleeping. But yes, I will make a light.’

He stirred the coals in the fireplace, then coaxed a flame from a crude candle. Imoshen smelt the burning tallow dip. She looked around. They were in the crofters’ cottage, or an identical one.

‘Where am I?’

‘Safe in the foothills of the highlands.’

So they had moved her while she was drugged. ‘The crofters betrayed me.’

Drake laughed. ‘T’Reothe could see you coming across the plains to him, bright as a beacon. He sent us to warn the old couple to bring you to him.’

‘How?’

‘We ride. Tomorrow you will join your betrothed.’

‘No. I meant how could he see me coming?’

Drake tilted his head. ‘You used your gifts to disguise yourself so that those who followed you would not discover Reothe’s whereabouts. Every time you used your gifts, he sensed it.’

Imoshen hung her head. She knew Reothe could sense the use of her gifts when he was nearby, but if he was as sensitive as Drake claimed, he was powerful indeed. Her heart sank.

Reothe believed she had run away from the capital to come to him, not to warn the General. Or did he? If he truly believed that, he would not have ordered her drugged. Tulkhan would think she had deserted him for Reothe. She must warn the General of the attack, and that meant escaping Drake for a second time.

‘Reothe trusts you,’ she told Drake. He was her age, but seemed so much younger for all his bravado.

He nodded. ‘I have proven my loyalty.’

Imoshen shifted uncomfortably. ‘The baby presses down. Can I have some privacy?’

‘You’ll have to go outside like the rest of us.’

As Imoshen straightened, her gaze fell on her boots.

Drake noticed. ‘You won’t need them.’

Imoshen shrugged. Drake was wise not to trust her. Arching her back, she scratched her tummy. The skin itched. ‘I’m so hungry. Is there anything to eat?’

‘I’ll cut some meat,’ he offered.

Smiling her thanks she stepped over the bodies of Drake’s snoring companions and went out into the night.

The large moon was on the wane and the small moon was not in the night sky, so she knew it was close to dawn. There was light enough for her to find a suitable bush. Her excuse to escape the cottage was genuine. The baby was sitting deeply.

By studying the stars Imoshen guessed the Greater Pass lay to the north-east, so that was the direction Drake would expect her to take. She would go south then double back. He would probably anticipate that too, but she was a country girl and knew how to hide her trail. She would not be able travel quickly without a horse and boots.

Hopefully Reothe had been too preoccupied to launch his attack. Drake would have been crowing if they had killed the Ghebite General. And if she kept them fully occupied searching for her, it might buy the time she needed to reach Tulkhan.

The enforced rest had done her aching hips good but it was not easy picking a path barefoot through country she did not know. At first she did not mind the effort. Then her stomach rumbled and she was reminded that Drake had been cutting meat for her. Poor Drake. She hoped Reothe would not be too hard on him.

When the birds began their predawn chorus Imoshen paused to drink. The water was not as cold as she expected, which meant she was near a hot spring.

At least she moved further from Reothe with every step. Pleased with herself she bathed her sore feet in the stream, rubbing the dirt and blood from her cuts. It was so refreshing that she would have liked to strip off and bathe her aching body, but she didn’t dare. They would start looking for her soon.

Slipping into the water she waded upstream to hide her scent from her trackers. A wide pool lay before her.

As she stood debating whether to go through or around, a strange sensation gripped her. The baby’s head ground down to her pelvis. She could almost feel it grating on the bones, wedging itself deep. Her knees sagged and a trickle of fear floated up through her body. The baby must not come now, not when she needed to escape her pursuers.

Determined to reach her destination, she waded across the rock pool. The water was warm and so clear she could see the large round boulders on the bottom. It was soothing and cleansed her gritty skin. When the water reached her chest she began to swim.