The Plains of Kallanash Read online

  Jonnor’s mother rattled on, without waiting for an answer. “And Jonnor never wanted to change things? But I suppose he had his reasons.”

  “He was always very content with Tella,” she murmured.

  “Indeed, indeed. And so he kept you downstairs. Oh goodness, is that a moonrose?” She dived abruptly off the path into a weedy area of shrubs. “I’ve never been able to grow them, you know. How did you do it?”

  “It just appeared,” Mia said. “This garden does whatever it wishes.”

  “Oh, mine’s the same,” Jonnor’s mother said. “It’s hopeless, nothing but root vegetables grow so far south. Even so – a moonrose! A pity I won’t be here to see it flower. Where were we? Oh, yes. So – you never wanted to be made active? You could have asked any time after the three years. You never thought of that?”

  How could she possibly explain it? The waiting, hoping that Jonnor would tire of Tella, or at least hunger for some variety. Then Tella’s increasing volatility, and the fear that a change would be too disruptive. They’d had such a fragile arrangement, Tella and Jonnor, but it worked, if they were left to themselves.

  Then there was Hurst, who had never shown any signs of wanting to move upstairs. Well, he had other outlets, he didn’t need a wife in his bed. And if they were all upstairs, there was no knowing how things might end up. Not that she would mind being with Hurst, if that was asked of her, he was a sweet man, but she’d always hoped it would be Jonnor, or at least that she would have a choice. But she couldn’t begin to explain any of that.

  Instead, looking at the ground, Mia said, “We were all quite content.”

  “My dear child! What a timid little mouse you are. Well, perhaps it’s for the best.” She paused, then took Mia’s arm again, patting her hand. “Yes, indeed. But now things will be different. Such a change for you! But you must be careful, and not allow too many liberties, if you understand me. Oh, you’re such an innocent child, aren’t you? I mean, of course, that you must keep to Jonnor, and not allow… well, I know it’s for all three of you to decide, of course, but you must make your voice heard. You must convince Jonnor not to allow the other one near you.”

  “The other one? Do you mean Hurst?”

  “Hurst, that’s it. Better not to, you know.”

  “But… Hurst is my husband, too.”

  “Well, of course, of course, but… my dear, since we’re alone let’s speak frankly. You wouldn’t want a child like that, would you?”

  “Like… like Hurst? Why ever not?”

  “Oh, but…” She tittered. “I suppose you don’t see it, but… so ugly, and that leg…”

  Had Mia ever thought him ugly? He wasn’t handsome like Jonnor, certainly, but he wasn’t so bad looking. When she’d first met Hurst, she’d thought him an intimidating man, the limp rather disconcerting. Probably that was just his age, for he was twenty-six to her fifteen, a Skirmisher with battle experience against the Vahsi. Once she got to know him better, she stopped noticing his looks, especially when he smiled and the corners of his eyes crinkled pleasingly. The limp was just part of him, and she never thought about it.

  “The leg was a childhood illness,” she said eventually.

  “But there must be a susceptibility, a weakness. Take my advice, dear, stick to Jonnor. Much better babies.”

  ~~~

  Brothers and sisters were not obliged to visit after a death, but many of them did so anyway. Two of Hurst’s older brothers came from a nearby Karning, slapping the men vigorously on the back, and drinking vast amounts of wine. Mia’s sisters came in twos and threes, wearing the white sash of mourning, accompanied by all their Companions, who filled the guest hall with tears and reminiscences and emotional hugs, clustering in big gossipy groups. It cheered Mia hugely, and only partly because of the constant bustle and activity.

  Later came Mia’s own parents from the northern border, a tiring journey, which left them exhausted. Mia noticed for the first time that they looked almost old – her vigorous father, always riding off somewhere at speed, and her energetic mother, never still, suddenly had grey hair and wrinkles. How had she never seen that before? Mia hugged them both, and cried a little, not for Tella this time, but for her own happy childhood and the sheer pleasure of seeing them again.

  “Goodness, but it’s cold here,” Bellissa said. “Have you anywhere we can warm ourselves?”

  There were few places in the stone-built Karninghold free from chills and drafts, even in high summer. Mia had grown used to the damp southern air, but for her parents, newly arrived from the warm north, it was torture. Mia took them through to the inner hall, where a fire burned year-round, and rugs and wall hangings kept the heat in. She arranged chairs close to the fire and wrapped them in shawls.

  “Tell me everything that’s been happening,” Mia said eagerly.

  “Oh, the usual,” Kendron said. “The Vahsi have been quite active this year, but they haven’t caught us at a disadvantage yet.” He gazed around the room at the many large wall hangings, pocked with moth holes and faded with age, depicting great victories against the plains barbarians. “These are strange images of them.”

  A savage race they looked, with their antlered helmets and painted faces, wrapped in furs and waving their curved blades. Mia loved to read stories about them, thrilling tales of their brutality which had her shivering in delicious fear, while knowing herself to be quite safe. The barbarians were always defeated, in the legends just as in the real battles along the border.

  “They’re a strange race, though, aren’t they?” Mia said. “They must be, to fight a perpetual war they can never win.”

  “Perhaps,” Kendron said. “I certainly don’t understand them. But it’s the depiction of them that’s strange. The Vahsi I’ve fought against weren’t like this at all. They looked just like scruffy, bearded Skirmishers, only more disorganised. But enough of the barbarians. We have news for you, child. We’ve decided… we will be breaking this winter.”

  “Breaking? No! Not you!” Mia stared at them, her hands covering her mouth. It happened to every Karningholder marriage eventually. Still, it was hard to think of her own parents and all their husbands and wives scattering to different Karnings, broken apart just because they became too old to rule.

  “I know, I always thought I would die with a sword in my hand, too,” Kendron smiled, one eyebrow jinking upwards. “But it hasn’t happened, and we’re getting too decrepit for the border. And I’ll be honest with you, child, I’m tired of it. More than twenty years we’ve been on the northern border, and we’ve made a good job of it, on the whole, but these last two or three years… Time to let someone else have a stab at the barbarians.”

  “But where will you go? I don’t see you at the Ring, somehow.”

  “No, not there. We will never have to go there again, I hope. But there are some of your brothers we could go and annoy, and two of them are far enough north to be warm.”

  “I wish you could come here,” she said. But the remnants of broken marriages never went to daughters, only to sons or to the Ring, living out a twilight life with no proper role, dwindling towards death.

  They had little to say about Tella.

  “I remember her, of course,” Kendron said. “An active child, always flitting here and there, never still, and such a beauty as she grew up. But there were so many children, over the years, and she was never close to either of us. Who was her mother, do you remember, my dear?”

  Bellissa shrugged. “I’m not sure. She might have been the third wife’s, the one who died. She was a good looking woman, too. Or one of the Companions.”

  Kendron turned to Mia with a smile. “We remember our own much better.” He put an arm round her, and she snuggled contentedly against him.

  “Now,” he went on, “you must understand, child, that you are in a very dangerous situation with Tella gone. With four, a marriage falls naturally into two couples, or else there is just one couple and the others help out, as you have done. Or�
� well, there are other arrangements, of course. But three – that is more problematic. If a husband dies, the Voices have to replace him for the skirmishes. But a wife… It is not so easy.”

  Mia said nothing, puzzled. She already knew that Tella would not be replaced, so she would be lead wife. What would happen after that… well, they would settle it after the month of mourning. She would be upstairs and sleeping with one or other of her husbands, that was certain. Or perhaps they would share her. That wasn’t uncommon. She would accept whatever the men decided. But what could be dangerous about it?

  “What will most likely happen, you see,” Bellissa said, leaning forwards, “is that you and Jonnor will become a couple and Hurst…” She glanced at her husband.

  “If Hurst feels excluded, he may take it badly,” Kendron said.

  “Hurst…? I don’t think you know him very well,” Mia said, floundering a little, not sure where this train of thought was leading.

  “I know his reputation,” he said. “I know he’s clever and ambitious. It’s been a concern to us right from the start. Jonnor should watch out for him, that’s all I say. He should watch out for blue arrows.”

  Mia shivered, her stomach churning. “No,” she whispered. “He wouldn’t. Would he?”

  “Maybe not, but he has the right. If he feels slighted, he might ask for the blue arrows, and then you’ll lose one of your husbands to the funeral flames as well.”

  4: Upstairs (Hurst)

  Whenever Hurst wanted to hide away from the world, he retreated to his senior Companion’s small library. Gantor was the son of scholars, and a great reader. He had books hanging on his wall that had nothing to do with skirmishes or battles or strategy or swordwork, and didn’t even have pictures in them. The room was also provided with maps and models for skirmish strategy planning, and was kept well stocked with cakes and wine.

  Hurst usually hid to avoid the Slaves trying to drag him to the temple for some ceremony or other, but this time the cause was his own father. Tanist was the last of the official mourners to arrive, after a long and arduous journey from the far western border, beyond the reach of the sky ship way. He was something of a hero nowadays, having scored a famous victory over the Vahsi barbarians only two years earlier.

  “I love my father dearly,” Hurst said to Gantor. “He taught me everything I know about skirmishing, and the barbarians too, but I wish he’d remember that I’m not a child any more. Improve your skirmish results, Hurst. Stand up to Jonnor, Hurst. Look at your younger brothers, Hurst, already promoted to the fourth line. Trouble is, ever since he got rid of the Vahsi in his patch, he’s had too much time on his hands. He has nothing to do now except hand out unwanted advice.”

  Gantor snorted. “And what part of that advice would you argue with? You’re only cross because he’s right.”

  “Of course he’s right. We should be further than the third line by now, maybe even at the border. I know that as well as anyone. After all, you’ve been saying it for years.”

  “You’re not jealous of Klemmast and Jallinast? Making the fourth line before you?”

  “Gods, no! They deserve it. I’m really pleased for them.”

  “It will be interesting to see how things work out, with a third couple in the marriage,” Gantor said, his face thoughtful. “They’re so close, those two, they’ll find it unsettling.”

  “It’ll be fine,” Hurst said breezily. “You always anticipate the worst, my friend. Mind you, I didn’t expect Roonast to be the new husband. Fifteen! That makes me feel so old. I remember him being born. But he’s easy going, he’ll fit right in.”

  “Do you ever think about it? Moving to the fourth line? Getting a third couple?”

  Hurst shrugged uneasily. Of course he’d thought about it, about the way it would change things, how could he not? But he’d grown up in a border Karning, the eighth line to start with and later the ninth, with the full complement of six couples in the marriage, and everything relatively stable. Early marriages, with only two or three couples, were much more fluid. Less predictable. He’d worry about it when it happened.

  “Or you could get another couple now,” Gantor went on. “If you ask for the blue arrows.”

  “Oh, don’t you start! You’re as bad as Tanist. Take the blue arrows, Hurst. Get rid of Jonnor, then you’ll be lead, Hurst.”

  “Mia was asking, you know,” Gantor said, staring into the distance. “About the blue arrows.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “That you had not divulged your thoughts on the subject to me. Which is the truth.”

  “You’ll be the first to know, I assure you.”

  Gantor folded his arms, and scowled at Hurst. “We do have an interest in the matter. If we’re to be incinerated in the near future, we’d like a chance to get our affairs in order.”

  Hurst laughed and shook his head. “If it comes to that, I don’t think we are at any risk.”

  “Don’t make assumptions,” Gantor said seriously. “Once the arrows start flying, who knows how things might turn out. And even if you don’t ask for the blue arrows, Jonnor might. Or the Voices might send an agent to sort things out.”

  “An agent? Not likely,” Hurst said at once. “Jonnor or I can ask at any time, but the Voices try not to interfere.”

  “Ah. You’ve been looking up the rules about all this. That’s interesting.”

  “Yes, I have, of course I have. But there are very few absolutes about it - it’s all ‘may’ and ‘could’ and such like. As for Jonnor – why would he want me out of the way? He’s the lead – he does what he wants, and I tidy up after him.” He couldn’t quite keep the bitterness out of his voice.

  “Tanist’s right, you know,” Gantor said, watching him. “This is an opportunity to take charge. I don’t want to influence you either way, but it would solve all the problems. Take the blue arrows, remove Jonnor – you would have everything you want.”

  “It’s not about what I want! Well… not just that, it’s about the family, about stability. We’ve gone on fine for ten years, because nobody got confrontational. I have nothing against Jonnor, you know that. I’d like a more equal part in this marriage, but I don’t want him dead. I’ll kill barbarians if need be, but not my own kin. And another death so soon after Tella…”

  “It doesn’t have to be soon. You have three years to ask for the blue arrows, don’t you? Well, then. You could wait. But if Mia and Jonnor…”

  Hurst stood. He was weary, he realised, weary of these same arguments revolving without resolution in his own head. Of course he wanted Jonnor out of the way, then he could make his own decisions on the skirmishes, he could play his own strategies. He could mark up some successes, as he had for the first three or four years of the marriage, when Jonnor lacked confidence and took his advice. Those had been good years. And Mia… Mia would be his. And yet... Always he hesitated, knowing how it would affect Mia. Or rather, not knowing at all.

  Gantor grunted and tilted his head to the side, looking up at him. “You know what the men say of you? That you’re a lion on the line, but you’re a mouse in your own home. It may be time to roar, Hurst.”

  ~~~

  The month of mourning had its trials, but to Hurst it was a time of unexpected solace. The days were full of dull ritual, but they were shared with Mia, which made them bearable, and the tedium was broken by the afternoon stillness. The custom was a throwback to a hotter climate when everyone rested from the sun, but now it was an hour of freedom from duty, an hour with Mia. Often they sat companionably opposite each other with their books spread out. He liked skirmish strategies or battle histories, while she would read some romantic tale or a melodramatic adventure from the Petty Kingdoms.

  Then each evening he, Jonnor and Mia retired to the high tower for their meat, just the three of them. Jonnor was no company. He toyed with his food for a while, saying almost nothing, and then took a full decanter of wine upstairs to drink himself to sleep. After that, Hurst sat with Mia
, and they talked, or read, or played crowns, as they felt inclined, and these quiet hours brought him an indescribable deep pleasure.

  Sometimes they would talk over the day’s events, or perhaps it would be the children and how they were coping with the changes, and then the conversation would get round to Tella and her Companions. Tessa, Tenya and Tersia. Such stupid names, he thought them. He had never liked the women’s habit of renaming their Companions to match their own name.

  One evening Mia said to him, “You must miss Tersia, Hurst. You and she were… close, weren’t you?”

  “Close? Well, she was an affectionate woman,” he said, uncomfortably. “She was… very obliging. But there was nothing more to it than that.”

  All Tella’s Companions had been very obliging, and had entered enthusiastically into certain aspects of their duties. All six of the male Companions, and Hurst too, had cause to mourn their loss. Walst and Tenya had been lovers almost from the start of the marriage, and Tersia had been particularly accommodating to Hurst himself. In fact, he had good reason to wonder whether her first two children looked anything like him.

  Mia was a romantic soul, though. She probably imagined that his willingness to sleep with Tersia implied some great passion, rather than a simple need for sex. He would miss Tersia, naturally, and all of the Companions. But his heart had always been elsewhere, even if Mia herself was quite unaware of it. Perhaps it was better that way. Her pity would be unbearable.

  One evening, as soon as Jonnor had gone up to his room, she came and sat next to Hurst, her face anxious.

  “May I ask your advice about something?”

  “Well, of course,” he said, folding his book away.

  “I found something. In Tella’s room.” Her hands moved restlessly. “I was going through her things, her clothes and so on, sorting everything out. Deciding what to keep and what to take to the Ring to be passed on.” She stopped, pressing a hand against her mouth.

  “And you found something?”

  She nodded, raising big eyes to his face. “A letter. Will you… will you read it? Tell me what you think?” She pulled a folded paper from her sleeve, smoothing it before handing it to him.