Fire of the Soul (10 page)

To Calia’s gaze the shoreline appeared to be
slipping away, although she knew that was an illusion. The ship was
coasting along in a slow, gliding motion. Then they were around the
end of the breakwater, out of the harbor and into the open sea,
where the smooth glide was replaced by a rocking sensation. The
wind caught at Calia’s hair, whipping loose a long strand from her
tidy braid.

“We are fortunate to leave on so calm a day,”
Garit said from directly behind her.

She turned to him and the piece of hair blew
across her face. Garit caught it and tucked it behind her ear. His
fingers rested against her cheek for a heartbeat or two before he
withdrew them.

“Lady Elgida is resting,” Calia informed him,
rather unnecessarily, but she could think of nothing else to say
that would make sense. Garit’s close presence left her breathless
and feeling a bit confused.

“I’m glad to hear it. You had a long ride
from Saumar.” Garit’s face was solemn. “My grandmother likes to
think she is still a young woman. You and I know she is not. I’m
sure you will see to her care.”

“I promised I would,” Calia said, trying her
best to appear annoyed that he’d think he needed to remind her of
their agreement. Her effort failed. Instead of sounding
clear-witted and slightly irritated, she sounded soft and
dreamy.

Angry with herself for being so weak just
when she needed to be strong, she stiffened her spine and squared
her shoulders. While she attempted to think of a clever retort to
Garit’s patronizing remark Captain Pyrsig shouted an order. The
ship heeled over as it changed direction and headed north. Calia
stumbled and began to slide along the deck. Garit flung out his arm
and caught her around the waist, pulling her to his side.

“You’ll be wise to keep one hand on the rail
until you are used to the ship’s motion,” he said.

“I can see what a good idea that is,” she
agreed as the deck slanted in another direction. “Is travel by ship
always so unbalanced?”

“This is just a slight swell, but you are
accustomed to walking on solid land,” he pointed out. “By the time
we reach Kinath, you’ll think the land is moving and the ship is
steady.”

“How long will that be?”

“It depends on the wind and the weather. The
voyage usually takes five or six days, unless a storm blows us off
course.”

Before Calia could think of an adequate
response to the notion of a storm at sea, Mairne’s laughter
disrupted her thoughts. With Garit’s arm still around her waist and
keeping one of her hands on the rail to steady herself, she turned
to see Mairne being held in a similar fashion by Anders, who stood
with legs braced wide and one of his own hands gripping a taut rope
that led upward to the sails. Garit saw the direction of her
gaze.

“You needn’t worry about him,” Garit told
her. “Anders knows that I am his best hope of becoming a knight. He
wants that accolade badly, so he’ll never do anything that will
give me cause to dismiss him. That means he will respect all women,
whether noble ladies or peasant lasses. Anders may not always keep
his hands to himself, but he’ll do no more than kiss and
touch.”

“Kisses and touches can break a girl’s
heart,” Calia snapped at him before she paused to think.

“I’ve a feeling Mairne knows how to protect
her own heart,” Garit said, looking at her now and no longer at
Mairne.

“Who is that squire of yours?” she asked,
hoping to divert her thoughts from the warm expression in his eyes.
She’d never before met a man who could make her want to melt into
his arms like butter on a warm day, while knowing at the same time
that she ought to run as far from him as she could. But then, she
had never before known a man whose one love had been murdered by
her own father. To her relief, Garit glanced away from her and
toward the couple standing by the rail just a few feet away.

“Anders was born and raised at Kinath
Castle,” he said. “His mother was one of my mother’s companions and
a distant cousin to her. I am certain that Anders is my
half-brother.”

“Oh.” She couldn’t think of anything else to
say to that. She wasn’t shocked by his words. Illegitimate children
were born every day, as she had been. And Mallory. And Anders.

Mallory had told her more than once that in
times past bastardy hadn’t mattered. In those long-ago days,
illegitimate offspring could inherit from either a father or a
mother. But in recent years new, stricter rules had been
promulgated and enforced. Now, parents must be legally wed in the
presence of at least two witnesses and the marriage must be blessed
by a priest or a mage before the children of a union were
considered legitimate and could inherit. Mallory declared the new
rules were unfair. After all, wasn’t Gundolam the Great, who had
forged the Dominion out of a few warring tribes, a bastard? Mallory
had more than once demanded of his little sister.

Calia couldn’t bear to think about Mallory
for another instant, so she made herself pay more careful attention
to what Garit was telling her. His story was both sad and
fascinating.

“My mother died of a wasting disease,” Garit
said. “It was a long, slow death and for the last few months of her
life she was in such severe pain that even the strongest herbal
syrups weren’t helpful. She couldn’t be a true wife when she was so
ill. My father cared deeply for her, but as she weakened and he
realized she’d never recover, he fell into a state of despair.
Judging by the date of Anders’s birth, he was conceived shortly
before or immediately after my mother died.

“I cannot blame my father, for I know too
well what anguish and heartbreak can do to a man. I am sure my
mother, if she knew of the affair, would not have begrudged him an
hour or two of comfort. Perhaps she did know.” He lapsed into
silence.

“So then,” Calia said after he’d been quiet
for a time, “you and Anders grew up together? That’s how you came
to be such close friends? For I can see that you are close.”

“Close as brothers, you mean?” His tone was
wryly amused. “No, by the time Anders was born I was thirteen years
old and about to be sent to Nozay Manor in southern Sapaudia to
become a squire and train for knighthood. I left Kinath the day
after my mother’s funeral. When I returned, just before my
knighting, Anders was ten years old. By then his mother had married
and moved to Morenia and my father was betrothed to marry Lady
Fenella. She did not like the boy, I think because she guessed who
his father was. She didn’t like me much, either.

“I could see little opportunity for Anders to
make a decent life for himself at Kinath, so I took him away with
me, to be my squire. He was too young by several years, but he was
eager to learn all he could. He knew horses and armor, having grown
up in the stables and among men-at-arms. I promised him that if he
behaved well until he turned twenty-one, I would supply the
required two horses and his armor, and I’d see that he was
knighted. I have tried to reform his manners, too.”

“No wonder he’s devoted to you.” She looked
hard at Garit, noting a tiny nick on the side of his firm jaw that
was undoubtedly the result of his last shave before he’d have to
cope with the motions of a ship at sea. Rather than chance more
nicks he’d likely grow a beard by the time they reached Kantia. For
the moment, though, his face was clean of stubble. Calia fought a
most unseemly desire to touch his face, and then to outline his
lips with her fingers before she placed her mouth on his. He would
fold both his arms around her and hold her close and safe....

She jerked herself upright, pulling away from
him.

“I won’t hurt you, any more than Anders will
hurt Mairne,” he said, frowning at her. “You needn’t fear me,
Calia. You are perfectly safe with me. I have no dishonorable
intentions toward you.”

“I’m not afraid.” She made herself glare at
him.

“Then why so shy? And so fierce?”

“I am
not
—” She stopped, realizing how
foolish she’d be to argue with him. Knowing and accepting what the
end of their association must be she could, if she dared, allow
herself to care for him. But she could not, in honor, allow Garit
to care for her. Sooner or later he’d learn whose daughter she was
and he’d only hate her more then, if he began to care for her
now.

“I ought to see if Lady Elgida needs
anything,” she said.

“Of course.” Garit stepped back and took his
arm from her waist.

How cold the sea breeze was without that warm
support, and how alone she felt as she crossed the deck to the
hatchway and the ladder. She couldn’t stop herself; she looked
back. Garit stood easily, one hand on the rail, swaying slightly
with the motion of the ship and watching her with an expression she
could not decipher.

“Damnation,” Garit muttered to himself. The
minute Calia disappeared through the hatchway he turned to face the
sea, gripping the rail so tightly with both hands that it should by
rights have disintegrated into splinters.

He knew exactly what the problem was. He’d
been a true and honest lover once, keeping himself from all other
women until he’d seen the exhumed body of his first love and had
known beyond all doubt that she was lost to him forever.

In the three years since that dreadful day he
had bedded a few women, for he was still young enough to have
physical needs that were at times demanding. Two of those women
were noble widows, each as eager as he was to end the frustrated
clamor of their bodies and neither of them interested in marriage.
The third woman was no lady, but a randy maidservant, who had
thrown herself at him on two separate occasions. In different times
and places Garit had satisfied each of the women, while temporarily
pleasing himself. But only temporarily. His heart remained an
empty, barren place.

And now, he wanted Calia. They had met only a
few days ago, yet he felt as if he’d known her all of his life. He
liked her intelligence, her fierceness when he challenged her, and
he liked even more the way she obviously loved his grandmother.

She wasn’t the least bit like his lost love.
Chantal had been all burnished red-gold hair, sun-kissed skin,
amber eyes, and light-hearted, teasing laughter, like an autumn
leaf dancing in a warm breeze.

By contrast, Calia was far more serious,
small and slender, yet stronger than she appeared. He wanted to run
his fingers through the straight, dark hair that lay so smoothly
against her elegant head. He longed to loosen her tight braid and
fan her hair out across his pillow. Calia’s eyes, ever-changing,
sometimes grey, sometimes green eyes, that regarded him with such
cool assessment, then melted into a tender warmth and understanding
– those eyes threatened to undo his cold, unfeeling heart.

He didn’t care that she was illegitimate and
had no dowry. He didn’t need a wealthy bride, for he held Castle
Auremont in his own right and in time Saumar Manor would be his,
too. He could marry where he pleased, so long as King Henryk made
no objection.

Staring at the sea, Garit acknowledged that
he did need an heir, if only to carry on his grandmother’s
bloodline to the holders of Saumar who came after him. Bedding
Calia would be no chore at all. He didn’t have to love her, just to
treat her kindly.

After reminding himself, as he had done every
day for more than three years, that he would never love anyone but
his lost Chantal, Garit decided to woo Calia. He didn’t think she’d
object. Marriage to a noble lord would be a fine match for her.

So, after the mission on which the Lord Mage
Serlion had sent both him and Durand was completed, on the way back
to Saumar or shortly after his arrival there, he’d speak to his
grandmother. Then he’d ask his intended wife to grant him her very
capable hand. Until that time, he told himself, he’d simply have to
control his manly urges toward the lady.

That evening Lady Elgida and her two female
companions dined with Captain Pyrsig in his cabin, which was the
largest on the ship. Garit and Anders were also present, as was
another passenger whom the ladies hadn’t met, who had come aboard
at the very last moment.

“This is Lord Durand of Granvay,” Captain
Pyrsig said to Lady Elgida. “He’s traveling to Kerun City.”

“My lady.” Durand made an elegant bow over
Lady Elgida’s hand and then over Calia’s. He looked at Calia so
long and so intently that she began to fear he knew who she
was.

“Granvay?” Lady Elgida said, her question
drawing Durand’s attention away from Calia. “You’re no Kantian,
then.”

“No, indeed.” Durand responded with a smile,
though Calia noticed that his gaze was as sharp and shrewd as Lady
Elgida’s own. “Neither is my sister, Lady Ilona, who is presently
residing at the Kantian court with her husband.

“Lord Garit.” Durand turned to him, extending
a hand, which Garit promptly accepted. “I’ve been told we’ll be
sharing a cabin. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“Thank you,” Garit said. “Tell me, my lord,
would your sister’s husband be Lord Euric? If so, we’ve met and I’d
be pleased to renew my acquaintance with him, if our journey should
take us to the court at Kerun.”

“Then I’ll see to it that you do meet,” said
Durand. “I think the ladies would like my sister, too.”

“Now that ye all know each other,” Captain
Pyrsig interrupted, “shall we eat while the stew is still hot?”

In correct, formal manner, Durand offered his
hand to Lady Elgida, to see her to the table, and Garit took
Calia’s hand. She had the peculiar impression that Garit and Durand
were carrying on a discussion in some kind of code that the other
people present, including herself, could not follow. It seemed to
her that every word those two men spoke contained a different
meaning than the most apparent one. However, her puzzled
speculations didn’t last long, for she was intrigued by the
captain’s cabin.