Fire of the Soul (6 page)

“I am more content than I ever expected to be
in this life. People like me, girls who are unwanted, are seldom as
fortunate as Mairne and I have been.” No note of self-pity sounded
in her voice, just the straightforward statement of an indisputable
fact.

“Tell me about Mairne,” Garit said. He
noticed the surprised look in her eyes that hinted she’d expected
him to ask about her own childhood and how she’d been consigned to
Talier Beguinage. He did want to investigate her past, as
thoroughly as possible, but he thought she’d talk more freely about
the other girl. Later he could begin to question Calia about her
own past and perhaps she’d reveal why his Aunt Adana had sent her
to Saumar. He knew that gathering information was just a matter of
patience and diplomatic negotiation, so he was sure his methods
would prove effective, even if Calia didn’t understand what he was
doing.

“Mairne is from northern Morenia,” she said.
“Her family lands lie just across the Moren River. When her parents
died her brother sent her to Talier because he considered her too
much trouble. He told her the lady mages would keep her in line
with fasting and hard penances.”

“Is she so difficult?” Garit asked with a
frown. “I’ll not allow my grandmother to be troubled by a wayward
girl.”

“She hasn’t been a problem. Lady Elgida
enjoys Mairne’s high spirits and her sense of independence, and
Mairne loves her. I suspect that her brother kept a mostly male
establishment and didn’t relish the prospect of having to defend
his sister’s honor over and over as she grew up. So, he decided to
be rid of her.”

“He could have married her off,” Garit
remarked.

“A marriage requires a dowry, even in
Morenia. Whereas, a small contribution to a beguinage will buy
entrance for a young, healthy girl who isn’t afraid of work.”

“Is that what happened to you, too?” Garit
asked, taking the chance that she’d give him an honest answer.

“The only entrance fee that I could offer to
Mother Mage Adana was my ability to read and write and do numbers,”
she said. “My half-brother and I were destitute. He was a landless
knight with only his horse and his sword and armor when he left me
at Talier and rode off to seek his fortune. I haven’t heard from
him since.”

“I’m sorry for that loss. I have a sister,”
Garit said. “She’s silly and giddy, and she made an impetuous
marriage that I could not approve. We quarreled about it, but after
a time we made our peace. I love her, and I’d never abandon her,
never leave her alone in the world.”

“Is she in Kantia?” Calia asked.

“No, she lives in Sapaudia now, with her
feckless husband and my six-year-old imp of a nephew, whom I fear
one day soon I’ll be compelled to take on as my squire.”

“You love your nephew too,” Calia said. “I
can tell by the look on your face when you speak of him. How I
wish—”

“Wish what?” Garit asked, wanting to hear the
rest of that oddly plaintive sentence, broken off with a sigh.

“Only that my family could have been
different, kinder, more loving. But few families are as fortunate
as yours. Pay no heed to me,” she said, lifting her chin. “It was
just an unhappy memory. We all have them, haven’t we? Shall we turn
back now? Those clouds look as if they’ll open and drench us at any
moment.”

“Of course. I think I’ve seen most of Saumar,
anyway.” Garit wondered if she actually believed he’d think the
dampness on her cheeks was from the mist and the first few drops of
rain. Calia was seriously troubled about something. He’d have to
convince her to confide in him, for his grandmother’s sake. He did
not want Lady Elgida troubled.

The midday meal was a quiet affair. Lady
Elgida appeared to be sunk in deep thought. Calia seldom spoke and
the remainder of the company, which included Anders, Mairne, and
Garit’s men-at-arms, as well as the manor servants, all followed
the example of the three at the high table.

“My lady?” Calia said at the end of the meal,
“may I see you to your room? Would you like to rest now?”

“No, not at all.” Lady Elgida thrust back her
chair and stood. “I want to go over the estate accounts. Garit,
come with us. You need to be made aware of the condition of
Saumar.”

“Yes, Grandmother.” He caught Calia’s eye.
She shrugged and shook her head to indicate she knew no more about
this matter than he did. Curious, Garit followed the women up the
stairs and past the solar, to a small office where books and
scrolls were neatly arranged upon shelves. And there, seated around
a trestle table, Lady Elgida and Calia spent the afternoon
explaining the workings of Saumar to him.

Garit listened to the words they spoke, as
well as to what he gradually came to believe lay behind those
words. By day’s end he understood that Calia honestly cared about
his grandmother. The knowledge would have been a relief to him, if
only he hadn’t begun to think a dreadful truth was yet to be
revealed, a possibility that gripped him with cold fear, for if he
was correct no male bravery, no strength with sword or lance, nor
even his diplomatic skills would avail against the greatest enemy
of all, which was death. This, he decided, must be the secret Calia
was hiding. He waited, but no word from either woman alleviated his
anxiety. He’d have to find out what he wanted to know on his
own.

Evening brought another subdued meal at which
Garit ate almost nothing. After Calia had seen Lady Elgida to her
chamber and had returned to the hall, Garit made her sit by the
fire with him.

“I believe I know what your secret is,” he
began, forsaking diplomacy because he was so worried.

“My secret?” She turned so pale that he
feared she’d faint and she began twisting her long fingers together
in her lap. “My lord, what do you mean?”

“I told you to call me Garit,” he said,
knowing he sounded irritated. Which he was. “Garit,” she repeated
obediently, “I have no idea what you are talking about. Perhaps you
ought to explain yourself.”

“Explain? You’re the one who owes me an
explanation!” He paused to calm himself before he spoke again. “Why
didn’t you tell me the truth when I asked you earlier?”

“Asked me what?” She sounded as annoyed as
Garit felt. She stopped wringing her hands, instead clenching them
so tightly together that her knuckles were white.

“About my grandmother’s health,” he said
between his teeth. “You declared that she is well. Yet, she has set
you to show me all the land belonging to Saumar and she’s
determined that I must learn every detail written in those cursed
ledgers, and now she apparently wants me to make an inventory of
the house and the stables and all of the other outbuildings.
Clearly, she doesn’t expect to live much longer and she’s preparing
me to take over this estate. I realize she may have warned you not
to tell me, lest I begin to coddle her. I’m sure she’d hate that.
But I need to know.”

“Garit,” Calia began, but he wouldn’t let her
finish whatever she wanted to say. He couldn’t allow her to pretend
any longer.

“Is her condition painful?” he demanded. “If
so, perhaps we can procure some poppy syrup for her. I’ll not have
her suffer. Tomorrow, I’ll swear to her not to leave here so long
as she lives. Only, please, tell me the truth. Is it a growth
somewhere in her body? An encroaching female problem? Is her heart
weakening?”

“Oh, Garit, stop, I beg you!” She began to
laugh wildly and then to cry. Garit, stricken to his very heart at
the thought of losing his grandmother and feeling guilty for having
neglected her, watched in growing horror. Calia bent over to put
her head between her hands, remaining in that position for so long
that his fear increased until he could not bear it.

“Calia?” He caught her by the shoulders,
lifting her so she had to look at him. When he saw her face wet
with tears for a second time that day he did not pause to think, he
just pulled her closer so that she rested against his shoulder. He
put his arms around her and held her until she quieted. After a
time he felt her arms slide around his back. That gentle pressure
was oddly comforting. He no longer doubted that she loved Lady
Elgida. But he had to know the full truth.

“I wish you would tell me everything,” he
said.

“Oh, dear.”

She drew away a little, but not very far, for
his arms were still holding her, and her hands clutched gently at
his back. Garit rested his forehead on hers, so close that he could
feel her warm breath on his cheek. After a few heartbeats she
lifted her head until he could see her soft, moist lips that were
slightly parted as if she wanted to say something. Garit’s arms
tightened. For one sweet moment her bosom was crushed against his
chest and his mouth was almost on hers. But not, quite, on hers. He
longed to take what he thought she was offering, yet he could
not.

Then she withdrew, her hands pressing on his
upper arms. He let her go at once and she sat back on the bench,
regarding him with an unreadable expression.

“Nothing is wrong with Lady Elgida’s health,”
she said, slowly and clearly. “I swear to you, she is as healthy as
any woman five years past her sixtieth birthday can possibly
be.”

“If she’s well, then why were you weeping?”
he demanded.

“I wasn’t weeping, not really. I began to
laugh because you were so completely mistaken about the problem.
You had it all wrong and I laughed until I cried. Women sometimes
do that, you know.”

“I was mistaken. You laughed,” he repeated,
certain that something more lay behind her glib excuses. Every
sense he possessed warned him that the
something,
whatever
it should prove to be, was very serious, indeed.

“Women can be cruel,” she said.

“Not you.”

“But you don’t know me, do you? We’ve only
just met.”

“I do not believe you would be cruel or
uncaring about anything to do with my grandmother.”

“Well, you are right in that. I’ve told you
before that I love her as if she were my mother. I do apologize for
upsetting you, Garit. Please excuse me now.” She rose, not looking
at him, ignoring his outstretched hand. “I have a few last chores
to see to, and then I am for bed.”

She kept her back to him all the way across
the hall until she disappeared though the kitchen door. Garit knew
she never turned to look at him, because he did not take his gaze
from her. When she was gone he still sat on the bench next to the
fire, dazed by what had just happened between them.

What, exactly, that was, he wasn’t sure. He
only knew that she had felt wonderfully soft and feminine in his
arms. He could still feel the imprint of her body against his, and
he could detect a faint scent of lilies where she had been. He’d
almost kissed her, had wanted to kiss her.

With a groan, he rose and snatched up the
poker, to jab it against the last whole log until the smoking,
smoldering wood broke apart and crumbled into glowing embers. He
almost wished someone would come along and offer to whack the poker
over his head a few times to clear his befuddled wits.

How could he embrace a woman, especially a
woman he barely knew, and experience tender thoughts toward her? He
loved Chantal, would always love Chantal, and no other woman. But
Chantal was gone forever, and his body was still young, still
lusty. He ached for the love he’d never fully enjoyed, for he and
Chantal had denied themselves, waiting until they could be
married.

He wanted to weep and rage over his loss, to
tear the hall apart and break a few heavy objects. Instead, he
flung the poker down on the hearth and stalked out the main door.
In the darkness he made his way to the stable, where he saddled his
horse, mounted, and rode over muddy, probably dangerously slippery
paths until he and the animal were exhausted.

He did notice as he made his way back to the
stable through a misty, grey dawn that he hadn’t taken complete
leave of his wits. Even in his frustrated fury, he’d been careful
not to trample the fields where Lady Elgida’s new crops were
growing.

Yet, when he finally lay in his bed,
physically worn out by his exertions, he could still feel the
imprint of Calia’s body against his and he smelled once again the
fragrance of lilies.

Calia led Garit on a tour of the manor house
and the other buildings, as Lady Elgida had directed. They began
late, because Garit came to the hall much later than she had
expected. She said nothing about his tardiness, not wanting to stir
up any trouble with him. She was having enough difficulty
maintaining her composure after the incident the previous evening.
She knew she’d been overwrought and when he’d started questioning
her, clearly thinking Lady Elgida was about to take to her
deathbed, she couldn’t hold back her emotions.

Grief and shame on her own account, love for
Lady Elgida, a certain degree of worry over what the elderly woman
would decide to do about Mallory, and her own unwanted, irrational
attraction to Garit all combined to bring her to helpless laughter
and then to the tears she had tried never to shed. Since the day
when Mallory left her at Talier she’d kept her pain locked
inside.

Until Garit took her into his arms. Then, for
just one instant she had dared to hope he’d kiss her, before she
realized that she could never allow Garit’s kiss. On the surface he
was a pleasant and quiet man, yet she recognized the strength that
lay within him like a burnished, sharp-edged sword that he wouldn’t
hesitate to use to inflict deadly injury in a just cause.

Sooner or later Garit was going to learn
whose daughter she was and once he knew, he would despise her. If
she allowed him to kiss her, knowing as she did what her father had
done to the woman he loved, Garit would hate her to the very end of
time.