Fire of the Soul (2 page)

Garit did not answer. He just shrugged and
kneed his horse and set off again in the direction of Saumar Manor.
But all the way there, in the back of his mind, lingered the image
of green-grey eyes and a sweet, musical voice set against the
splendor of springtime leaves and flowers and a high, free blue sky
wherein birds sang joyously, as if all were well in both heaven and
earth.

Unfortunately, Garit knew that all was not
well. He wondered again if the woman possessed the Power and if she
had used it on him to make him think otherwise.

“It’s about time you finally came to Saumar,”
Lady Elgida scolded. She stood in the solar of her manor house, not
hiding from the midafternoon sunlight that beamed through the
narrow windows to reveal every line in her fine-boned face. Her
back remained straight despite her great age, though she did rest
one hand on a sturdy walking stick.

“I promised I would visit you, Grandmother.”
Garit employed a mild tone and calm demeanor that he trusted would
soothe the old lady’s ire, for the same calmness had quieted the
occasional anger of King Henryk of Sapaudia, or the far more
frequent outbursts of the late King Audemer of Kantia. As a
diplomat, Garit had cultivated such skills, concealing all signs of
irritation and showing only a polite, bland surface to the rulers
he served. He’d been practicing diplomacy, and concealment, for
almost half his life, so he was an expert at hiding his true
feelings from others “Here I am, as promised.”

“You made that promise nearly three years
ago,” Lady Elgida retorted with all the fiery spirit that Garit
recalled from his childhood.

“I am here now.” He stepped nearer to kiss
both of her cheeks. Her skin was soft as faded rose petals against
his lips. As he inhaled her familiar, spicy perfume the old boyhood
tenderness tugged at his carefully guarded heart. Garit took the
hand that was not holding her walking stick and kissed it, too. His
grandmother’s only response to his affectionate offerings was a
snort. Knowing her stiff-spined character and her turbulent
history, Garit smiled fondly.

Lady Elgida had always been much too
opinionated and far too independent for a well-bred woman. In her
youth she had defied her parents’ wishes and refused the marriage
to a Sapaudian nobleman that they arranged for her, choosing
instead Lord Belai of Kinath, a Kantian of notable courage and
unquestionable honor. Horrified though they were at their
daughter’s strength of will and at her preference for a Kantian
over a more cultivated Sapaudian, eventually her parents
relented.

However, there was one aspect of a
noblewoman’s life that even Lady Elgida’s fierce determination
could not control. She had borne a child to her husband every year
when he was not away from home and only two of those many children
survived to adulthood: Garit’s father, Kinen, and the youngest
child, a daughter, Adana.

Upon the death of her husband in battle Lady
Elgida announced that she hated Kantia, its uneatable food, its
rude manners, its uncivilized and treacherous nobles, and its foul
weather. Only her beloved Belai had made her life there tolerable.
Now that he was gone and her son was married with children of his
own, she would return across the Sea of Lestrac to her childhood
home of Saumar Manor, which was hers by the terms of her marriage
contract. There the climate was more salubrious and the nobility
occasionally bathed.

Scarcely had Lady Elgida spoken when Adana
declared that she would never marry. She had, she said, taken note
of her mother’s often sad life and she held no desire to endure a
similar existence. Since Adana possessed a will as strong as her
mother’s and, in addition, a vexing degree of the Power, which she
found difficult to control, no one disputed her firmly stated
intention to enter a house of retreat. Lady Elgida could escort her
to Talier Beguinage on the southward journey.

“You look well, Grandmother,” Garit said,
releasing her hand.

“I am alive,” Lady Elgida responded dryly.
“At more than sixty years of age, continued existence is no mean
feat for a woman.”

“Indeed not.” Garit looked around the solar,
noting how neat and clean it was. “Your lands appeared prosperous
as I rode through them. This manor house is well kept. You must
have an excellent steward.” He did not mention the woman he’d met
in the field, assuming she must be the steward’s wife, taking on
some of her spouse’s duties.

“Steward?” Lady Elgida sniffed her distain.
“I have never employed a steward. Men think they know everything;
they refuse to listen to women. Why should I allow a mere employee
to tell me what ought to be done on my own lands, or in my own
house?”

“I wouldn’t expect you to allow anyone to
tell you what to do. But never say you manage everything yourself?”
Garit exclaimed.

“I did, when I first came here, and it was a
daunting task,” the old lady admitted. “However, a few years ago
your Aunt Adana was kind enough to send me a companion.”

“You’ve accepted a female mage into your
household?” Garit asked in surprise. His Aunt Adana was now Mother
Mage Adana, the leader of the beguinage she had chosen over
marriage. Leader or not, Lady Elgida refused to call her daughter
by any name but the one she had given the child at birth and she
ignored the title Adana had earned.

“Of course, not a mage. Adana sent a woman
who was consigned to Talier Beguinage by her older brother, but who
proved most unsuited to such a rigidly organized life,” Lady Elgida
informed him. “Calia has been helping me to manage the estate, and
a fine job she does of it, too. She handles everyone who works in
the fields or the stables almost as well as I ever did. Not to
mention how deftly she deals with the indoor servants.”

“Who is this paragon?” Garit demanded. The
haunting image of a woman on horseback rose in his memory. Again he
experienced the feeling that he knew her. “What is her family
background? If Aunt Adana sent her to you, she must be of noble
birth.”

“I am certain you will like her when you meet
her.” Lady Elgida sounded as if she was issuing an order.

Garit noted that she did not answer his
questions about the companion and he took the evasion as an ill
omen. He hadn’t actually seen much of the woman in the fields.
Possibly, she was older than he’d thought. Years of courtly life
had taught him how deceptive a soft voice and gentle manner could
be. Now he imagined a middle-aged woman, discarded by her family,
who had cleverly worked her way into her mistress’ affections.
Living on a secluded estate as Lady Elgida did, she could not have
many friends nearby and must be lonely. A tough-minded, managing
woman might well take advantage of such a situation, thinking to
provide herself with a permanent place. And, perhaps, with a
sizable inheritance.

Garit decided that he had arrived none too
soon. In his childhood his grandmother had often told him that
Saumar Manor was to be his after she was gone. Therefore, though he
held a castle in southern Sapaudia that King Henryk had granted to
him in reward for a secret mission he’d undertaken in the king’s
behalf, he owed it to his aged grandmother and to himself to
protect this smaller inheritance.

Considering the unhappy turns his life had
taken during the last few years he knew he needed a purpose, a
reason to haul himself out of bed each morning. He’d make short
work of this Calia woman. As soon as his current mission was
completed, he’d take over running the estate himself and he’d
correct any mistakes that Calia had made. Then he’d convince his
grandmother to accept the competent steward whom he would choose to
handle the affairs of Saumar whenever duty called him away – which
wasn’t likely to happen very often. At that thought Garit heaved a
sigh that sharpened his grandmother’s gaze.

“By the dusty look of you, you’ll be wanting
a bath and fresh clothing,” Lady Elgida said. “I’ll have a servant
show you to a guest room. I suppose that dark brute hulking at the
top of the solar stairs is your squire?”

“Anders is both my squire and my friend,”
Garit said very firmly.

“A Kantian, is he?”

“Yes, Grandmother.” Garit forbore to remind
her that he was more than half Kantian, himself. Nor did he mention
his squire’s exact origin.

“I should have guessed by the thunderous
expression he wears. Your Anders brings rain clouds with him.” Lady
Elgida drew herself up to her most regal stance before issuing her
inevitable advice. “Never trust a Kantian, my boy. They are all
treacherous. Except your grandfather, of course. And your late
father, though he was not the man my Belai was. No one could be.
But Kantians in general are devious creatures.”

“Anders has been a faithful companion through
difficult times, and he is completely honest,” Garit told her.
“I’ve known Sapaudian lords who were far more treacherous than
he.”

“Yes, I’ve heard the story. Your beloved Lady
Chantal, abducted and killed by her own uncle because he coveted
her lands. But Lord Walderon was a traitor to his king as well as a
murderer, and he died a traitor’s death for his crimes.” Perhaps
Lady Elgida took note of Garit’s suddenly stiff posture and closed
expression, for she continued in a kinder tone.

“You are always welcome at Saumar, my lad,
and any companion of yours is welcome, too, even a Kantian. There’s
plenty of room in the stable for your horses, and a place in my
home for you and Anders and your men-at-arms for as long as you
choose to stay. I’ll want to hear the latest news and gossip from
King Henryk’s court, but that will keep until later. Now, run along
and wash up. When you join me for the evening meal, Calia will be
here.

“Ah, Mairne, there you are.” Lady Elgida
spoke to a young woman with unruly dark curls, who had just come up
the steps from the hall and who bestowed an appraising look on
Anders as she passed him. “Be good enough to escort my grandson to
the best guest chamber. Garit, you have a choice of using the bath
house or having a tub of hot water in your room. Mairne will order
whichever you want.”

“Her grandson? Here?” Calia repeated later,
responding to Mairne’s excited news. “So that’s who he was.”

“Who – you’ve met him?” Mairne whispered in
surprise, though there was no one in the kitchen entryway to
overhear her.

“He stopped to ask directions.” Calia
unclasped the cloak she’d worn while riding about the farmlands to
oversee the last of the early planting, then handed the garment to
the girl who had grown dear as a sister to her while they were at
Talier Beguinage. “He wasn’t expected.” She bent to remove her
muddy boots and change to clean wooden clogs before stepping into
the kitchen.

“He’s welcome all the same,” Mairne
responded, folding the cloak over her arm. “He and his squire,
who’s a handsome, strapping man if ever I’ve seen one, and some
men-at-arms. From what I overheard of his conversation with Lady
Elgida, I’m thinking Lord Garit plans to stay at Saumar, perhaps
permanently.”

“Oh, dear.” Calia clenched her hands tightly
at her waist and stared around the kitchen while she tried to
conquer the apprehension that was fast rising in her bosom. She
knew Mairne was watching her, no doubt wondering at her reaction to
the news. Mairne had no idea who her friend really was. Calia could
only pray that Lord Garit didn’t know who she was, either.
Ignorance on his part would give her a bit of time in which to make
decisions, though she fully recognized how few choices she had.

Calia always found paying strict attention to
household duties a quieting exercise, so she took care to notice
the cooking fire with the birds roasting on the spit, and the girl
who was whipping an almond pudding into an airy froth, while an
underservant cut a wheel of cheese into neat wedges. Those
activities all offered evidence that Lady Elgida had commanded a
more festive evening meal than the usual cold leftovers from
midday.

“Lady Elgida loves you,” Mairne said in a
reassuring way. “And I do believe she likes me. She has a good
heart and she understands the difficulties that women who are alone
in the world must face. She’ll not allow either of us to be forced
from our places here at Saumar by a mere man, if that’s what
worries you.”

“Of course, she won’t.” Calia did not believe
her own words. She knew too well that a man’s wishes were always
more important than a woman’s fate. The moment Lady Elgida’s
grandson learned who Calia’s father had been, he’d demand that she
be returned to Talier Beguinage, where Mother Mage Adana did not
want her. Perhaps Mairne would desert her, too, once she knew the
truth about Calia’s tainted heritage.

She stared at the birds turning on the spit
and reflected that she knew how they had felt in the instant when
they were snared, just before the gamekeeper’s rough hands had
wrung their necks. Like the birds, she was ensnared, not by fate,
but by her own lies and omissions.

Why, oh, why hadn’t she made good use of one
of the many quiet evenings that she had shared with Lady Elgida,
both of them in the solar with needlework or spinning, when she
could easily have told her benefactor everything? Very likely, two
years ago when she’d first come to Saumar, or even a month ago,
Lady Elgida would have listened, asked a few questions, and
understood. But now, with Garit a guest in his grandmother’s home,
it was too late for a confession.

Calia was a surprise to Garit. Despite that
peculiar moment of recognition when he’d first seen her in the
field, he was certain he’d never met her before. She looked to be
in her mid-twenties, considerably younger than he expected. Nor was
she the encroaching woman he’d imagined her to be. She was quiet,
self-effacing and, as far as he could tell, she was
well-mannered.