Jayne Castle [Jayne Ann Krentz] (16 page)

woman."

Kalena shot him a bitter look.

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Ridge ignored the glance. "Tell me, Kalena of the House of the Ice Harvest, did your aunt have any

proof of her accusations? Do you know for certain that Quintel had anything to do with the death of the

men in your family?"

"Stop it," she cried. "It's the truth. It has to be the truth. For years I have lived with that truth. It has

dominated my life."

"The truth as told to you by your aunt?" he persisted.

"She would not lie about such a thing. She's a Healer, devoted to life and the future. She has the Far

Seeing gift as well as the healing talent. Such a one does not commit herself to murder unless there is no

alternative."

"She didn't commit herself to it," Ridge snapped, "she committed you to it."

"Only because she knew she could not carry out the deed herself."

"She set all this up, didn't she? She negotiated the contract with Quintel in order to get you close to him.

This business with trouble on the Sand route was made to order for her. She's been keeping you stashed

away on some farm in the Interlock valley until just the right moment. She thought she saw her chance

and without a qualm she sent you to do her dirty work."

"It is not her dirty work," Kalena blazed. "It was my duty. If you were a member of a Great House, you

would understand my position. You would know the price that such kinship demands. It is a matter of

honor!"

"Don't give me that nonsense. I know the meaning of honor, woman. I also know the meaning of duty

and loyalty. Perhaps I have even a better understanding of it than you do because I didn't inherit any

House honor. I've fashioned my own. And I know where my responsibility lies."

She nodded. "You will kill me now because your duty is toward your employer."

Ridge felt rage begin to build again in him. Firmly he tamped it down. He'd be damned if he would let

this slip of a female make him lose control. She was his, by the Spectrum. He could and would control

her.

"Unfortunately, things aren't that simple any longer. You're my wife, Kalena. As of sunset this evening I

have been responsible for your actions. Weren't you listening to the words of the ceremony? Your honor

and my own are tied together now. Do you have any conception of the mess you have created? Do you

understand what you have done? You tried to kill the man to whom I have vowed my loyalty. Quintel

trusts me as he trusts no one else in this world."

"Blame him for the situation, then. He was, after all, the one who negotiated the contract of marriage with

my aunt. He was the one who introduced me into his own household. He's the reason I'm here. You're

entirely blameless, as far as I can tell. This does not concern you, Fire Whip. This matter is between the

House of the Ice Harvest and the House of the Gliding Fallon. A bastard such as you has no business in

such matters."

Ridge slammed his hand flat against the wall in a gesture of frustrated anger. "By the Stones, woman, you

don't even have the sense to keep your mouth shut when you should."

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"Why shouldn't I say what I wish? You're going to kill me, regardless."

That was too much. He'd had it with listening to her predict her death at his hands. Ridge stalked over to

the pallet and stood towering over his new wife. "No, Kalena of the House of the Ice Harvest. I am not

going to kill you, although by the time I am through with you, you may wish I had."

"You're going to beat me and then turn me over to Quintel or the Town Patrol?" she asked warily.

"There isn't time for either action, in spite of the fact that one or both might have been intensely satisfying.

No, Kalena, I am not going to beat you tonight."

She looked at him distrustingly. "Why not?"

"Because if I did you wouldn't be able to sit a creet saddle for a full day tomorrow, that's why not!" he

stormed. "The way I feel now you probably wouldn't be able to move for an eightday if I beat you the

way you deserve. We still have a journey to make, you and I. I'm not going to let you keep me from my

assigned task. I have my own duty to perform and destiny to meet." He leaned down and hauled her up

to stand in front of him. "I am not going to let you keep me from getting my hands on a fortune in Sand.

You may have been a fine House lady once, Kalena, but you are married to me now. You are the wife of

a Houseless bastard and you will fulfill your duty to your new husband. I may not be a Great House lord,

but by law and custom I am your master, Kalena. You signed the papers yourself. Your loyalty is to me

now. Your sole duty is to obey your husband. And I have decided that you will be sitting in a creet

saddle heading toward Variance before dawn tomorrow morning. Don't deceive yourself that I can't

control you. You belong to me now. Regardless of how either of us feel about it, our destinies are tied

together."

Kalena looked at him wordlessly, considering her limited set of alternatives. On the whole, a long ride in

a creet saddle sounded better than the more honorable death she knew she should be seeking. The raw

truth was that she was apparently not cut out to be an instrument of vengeance. Life was far too

appealing to her, even life as the wife of a man who had no legitimate House name and every reason to

hate her.

In the end, it didn't matter how she felt about it. She knew she didn't have the strength or will to resist

Ridge. With the knowledge of her own failure had come a numbing death to her own sense of will and

direction. She had no choice but to put herself in the Fire Whip's hands.

Kalena had heard that long ago, in the days of the mythical Dawn Lords, creets could actually fly. She

wasn't sure she believed the story, but by the third day on the trail she would willingly have sold the

Secrets of the Stones if it were true. The thought of flying was startling, even terrifying in some respects,

but she was so bone weary after three days in the saddle that any change in the manner of travel would

have been welcome.

She had ridden very little in her life. The longest trip she had ever undertaken had been the one from

Interlock to Crosspurposes, and then she traveled by public coach drawn by creets. Greets were

expensive and of little use other than for transportation. Olara and Kalena had had no need of the birds

while living in Interlock.

Fortunately, staying atop one of the good-natured birds was not difficult. Kalena's saddle was deep and

quite safe, even when the creets were pounding along the ground with their swift, pacing stride. But being

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safe did not mean the seat was comfortable, especially if one wasn't accustomed to it.

Kalena paid no attention to the passing countryside. She was vaguely aware that they were crossing the

rich grain fields of the Plains of Antinomy, but the gently rolling landscape held little interest for her. Her

normal sense of curiosity was completely dulled by her personal misery and the relentless stride of the

yellow and white creet she rode.

She stared down at the feathered neck in front of her and wondered if it was true that the bird's small,

useless wings had once been capable of lifting its large body into the sky.

Creets were strong creatures, having apparently long since given up the light, vulnerable bones that

would have enabled them to fly. The long toes of each foot still sported curving, bird-like claws. Those

claws could be dangerous, Kalena knew, if the birds were enraged. Some flock managers had the claws

removed. A lot of people preferred to ride animals that had been so treated. But Trade Master Ridge

had ordered clawed birds for the trip to the Heights of Variance. Kalena knew it was because such birds

were more sure-footed. They were also better able to defend themselves if they were attacked by

something as large as a fangcat or a pack of sinkworms. In any event, unlike her husband, it took a great

deal to enrage a creet. They were by nature placid, willing beasts, content to preen their beautiful feathers

and squabble playfully with each other when they weren't called upon to work.

Kalena lifted her head and gazed resentfully at the creet in front of her own. It was the mate of the

female she rode. Creets bonded for life and were usually worked in pairs. Ridge sat astride the male, the

leather reins looped carelessly through one hand. He looked as strong and grim as he had the morning

they left Crosspurposes. Kalena knew he had deliberately seta punishing pace. She thought about telling

him that the punishment was quite effective, but she suspected he was well aware of it. Every muscle in

her body ached. For the past three days she had bitten back the complaints and willed herself to endure.

By the Stones, she would not give the bastard the satisfaction of knowing how much she ached.

She felt she had done nothing but enduresince the trauma of her wedding day. Ridge had spent the night

in her bed chamber, although he had made no move to touch her. Kalena supposed the very thought of

making love to a woman who had tried to assassinate his employer was repulsive to him.

Kalena had lain awake all night, clinging to the far side of the pallet so that her husband would have as

much room as possible. She thought Ridge had stayed awake for a long while, too, but eventually he had

slept. The next morning he had ordered her out of bed well before dawn. The household had still been

asleep when he had tossed her lightly up into the creet saddle, handed her the reins and ordered her to

follow him.

That first day Kalena had thought she would fall out of the saddle by the end of the day. The thought

hadn't particularly bothered her. It was just something she had noted vaguely in passing. Nothing had had

the power to upset or worry her for the past three days. She had been drifting in a gray emotional

landscape that had no secure points of reference and from which there seemed no escape. If she thought

of anything specific at all for any length of time it was her failure to her House. But even that bitter

knowledge no longer had the power to hurt her as it had on the night she had come to terms with it. She

had failed her House. Technically, Olara could—and probably would—disown her for that failure.

Kalena could barely stand when she finally dismounted in front of the village inn where she and Ridge

had stayed that first night. She hadn't bothered with dinner downstairs in the dining hall that adjoined the

tavern. Without a word she had gone directly upstairs, bathed and fallen into bed. She hadn't awakened

when Ridge had come upstairs some time later. She hadn't even moved until he had shaken her into some

semblance of awareness at dawn the next morning. Kalena had never been so stiff and sore in her life,

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but pride had kept her from saying one single word. It was odd how pride remained when all else had

vanished.

The next night had been a repeat of the first. The one small, insignificant bit of retaliation Kalena had

been able to effect was to totally ignore the wifely tradition of bringing her husband yant tea in his pallet.

If Ridge expected tea at dawn he could damn well make it himself. It had quickly become apparent that

Ridge was too smart to expect any such thing. Now, as the third day drew to a close, Kalena began to

wonder if the entire trip to Variance was to be carried out in silence and unending soreness.

The fact that she was becoming aware of her own resentment was mildly interesting, Kalena supposed.

During the previous two days she had been moving through a kind of emotional shock. Nothing had

really fazed her except the aching exhaustion, although for some reason she had managed to remember to

take the selite powder. But today her mood was starting to restabilize. She wasn't sure if that was a good

sign or not. Surely one shouldn't begin to recover so quickly from the trauma of failure.

Nevertheless, when the small jumble of timbered structures that comprised a village came into view over

a grassy rise, Kalena actually found herself considering the prospect of dinner. Ridge had more or less

forced her to eat a small morning and lunch meal during the past few days, but he hadn't bothered her

when she had neglected dinner in favor of a bath and sleep in the evenings.

The sun was setting behind the distant mountains and smoke rose from the hearths of the homes that

were scattered about the dusty main street of the town. The night would be cool, cooler than in

Crosspurposes, and much cooler than it would be farther east in the Interlock valley. Kalena vaguely

remembered that Ridge had discussed the distance to a place called Adverse that morning with the

innkeeper in the last village. This must be their destination for tonight. The creet she was riding lifted its

head expectantly and gave a hopeful chirp as it sensed the end of the day's ride. Creets considered a

good supply of food and a warm stable adequate reward for their efforts.

Kalena cleared her dry throat with the intention of calling to Ridge to ask him if this was where they