I said, “Rwyan, I’ll not let you go again.”
I bent my head to kiss her, but she set a hand against my lips. She was troubled and I hesitated. I held her still, and she me, and I sensed she was in no way eager to break that hold. I wondered why she frowned.
She said, “Daviot, do you trust me?”
I ducked my head in earnest confirmation.
“Then do you trust me a little longer. Only go to the hall; let no one see you leave this chamber. Act as before-as if we are now strangers-”
I interrupted her: “Rwyan, they say you sail tomorrow, and I’ll not lose you again.”
I saw pain on her face then. She said, “Only in the hall, my love. Be the Storyman there, and I some woman from your past, dismissed now.”
I said, “Never dismissed!”
Again she silenced me with a touch. “After, when the keep sleeps, come to me and I’ll explain. My word on that.”
Reluctantly, I nodded and said, “Do you so bid me. But shall you stay to hear me?”
She smiled then, and no sun ever shone brighter. She said, “I’ll stay. But impatiently; I pray they’ll not delay you there.”
It was all I could do not to kiss her, fold her in my arms, and carry her to the bed, but there was an urgency in her voice, a plea in her blind eyes: I quelled the impulse as the sounds outside grew louder. I said, “I fear my throat grows sore in this heat. I fear I’ll not be able to speak too long.”
She laughed then, softly, and raised her face to mine, brushing me with her lips. Then pushed me away, saying, “Good. Now go, I beg you.”
I loosed my hold on her. I stroked her cheek and turned to the door, listening. I heard voices receding and opened the door a crack. The footsteps faded, and I swung the portal wide. As I went out I said, “I’ll not lose you again, Rwyan.”
She nodded, but in her eyes I saw doubt. I ignored it: I had none any longer. I closed the door. The man-Tezdal, she had named him-stood watching me. Our eyes met, and he nodded, as if in greeting or approval, but neither of us spoke. I walked away.
That noonday meal had been hard, but this was worse. To have held my Rwyan again, to know again she loved me, and now to pretend … it was no easy task. I wondered if Varius or Robyrt saw it in my eyes, in the glances I could not help sending her way as we sat at table and conversed as civilized folk do: politely, formally, impersonally. And all the time agog for the evening to end, to go to her. If they did suspect, they said nothing, nor gave any hint. She was superb, playing the blind woman, cool in the presence of a forgotten lover.
I ate with better appetite and drank little, and when the tables were cleared, I rose at Pyrrin’s request to take a place at the hall’s center. I was pleased to see the aeldor’s Changed servitors were allowed to remain; better pleased that Rwyan did. I gave of my best that night, and if my earlier performance had been lackluster, I compensated for it now. I gave them Aerlyn’s Wedding and Daeran’s Revenge, then roughened my voice (which elicited a small, secret smile from Rwyan) as I commenced the tale of Marwenne’s Ride. When that was told, I downed a mug of ale, as if to soothe a speech-sored throat. There were shouts that I go on, but I pled my fear I should lose my voice altogether and so not be able to speak on the morrow. I was eloquent, and the hour grew late. Pyrrin accepted my excuse, announcing his own intention of finding his bed: the hall began to clear.
I watched Rwyan depart on Tezdal’s arm, consumed no longer with jealousy but with impatience now, and more than a little curiosity. As soon as seemed decent, I said my own goodnights and found my room.
Ryl had laid out my laundered clothes and lit the lantern. A jug of wine and a single glass stood on the table. I left them lie, easing my door a crack ajar. A few servants yet moved along the corridor, and I resisted the temptation to ignore them-Rwyan had entrusted me with secrecy, and I would not betray her. I crossed to the window, my fingers tapping an impatient tattoo on the sill. The night hung hot and heavy, and I thought the sky seemed not so dark as it should be, as if the Sky Lord’s magic held back the sun from its rightful setting. I wondered what secrets Rwyan would reveal; mostly I thought of lying with her again.
Then, driven by an impulse I did not stop to define, I folded my gear and filled my saddlebags, setting them with my staff. I knew not what the future held for me, only that I could not bear to let Rwyan go again. I returned to the door and, finding the corridor silent, went to her room.
Her door opened on my knock, and she came into my arms. For a while we said only words of love, and when we spoke of other things we were naked on a rumpled bed. I licked, sweet salty sweat from the gentle mound of her belly as she sighed and tangled fingers in my hair. A single lantern burned across the room, its wick trimmed low so that light fell golden on her skin. Her blind eyes were huge; I thought she had never looked so lovely.
She said, “Daviot, we must talk.”
I raised my lips, not willingly, from her flesh and nodded.
She eased higher, resting back against the pillows. Her hair fell like golden flame over her smooth shoulders. I heard such gravity in her voice, I made no move to kiss her or hold her but only took her hands in mine. For now that seemed enough.
She studied my face a moment, as if gauging my reaction. Then she said, “Tezdal is a Sky Lord.”
“What?”
I’d have been off the bed and running to alert the keep had Rwyan not flung her arms around my neck to hold me back. Even so, I dragged her halfway upright, my feet upon the floor, my hands moving to disentangle her arms.
“Daviot, no!” she cried. Then softer, “Listen! I beg you, listen. He’s no danger-he’s no memory.”
“What?” I said again.
That seemed to me so dreadful a loss, I sat back. I was bemused. Why did Rwyan protect a Sky Lord? She took my hands again, kneeling before me. Lust stirred, even through my amazement. She shook her head, spilling her glorious hair back, and “looked” me in the eye.
“He’s no memory,” she repeated. “Save that his name is Tezdal, he remembers nothing of his past.”
I said, “But he’s a Sky Lord? You know this?”
“We do,” she said, and told me of his finding on the rock and his sojourn on the island, the design the sorcerers had drawn.
When she was done, I was silent awhile. It seemed to me so enormous a thing, I must take precious time to digest it. I said, “Did Pyrrin know this, he’d slay the Kho’rabi.”
“Hence my deception,” she said. “Save I can deliver him safe to Durbrecht, he’d as well have died when we destroyed his airboat.”
I nodded. I thought perhaps that had been the better course; then that had events not run to this pattern, I’d not have met Rwyan again. I supposed that in a way I should be grateful to my enemy. I said, “He’s no memory at all? You’re confident he does not deceive you?”
“We dug and dug,” she said. “We used our magic on him. Save we were convinced, think you we’d take such risk?”
“I suppose not.” I shook my head slowly. Then: “Robyrt wonders at his looks. He said”-I paused, conjuring the jennym’s words-” ‘Did he not accompany a sorcerer, I’d think him likely a Kho’rabi. He’s a look about him.’ By the God, Rwyan, does Robyrt wonder, what of Varius?”
She licked her lips. They gleamed moist in the lantern’s light, and I wanted badly to taste them. She said, “I think perhaps Varius suspects but chooses to remain silent. Likely he feels that if the Sentinels elect to employ such subterfuge, there must be a reason and he best advised to hold his own counsel.”
“Pyrrin would not,” I said, remembering details heard along my road. “He lost sons to the Sky Lords.”
“That’s why I must deceive them,” she said, “all of them. The God willing, we’ll not be questioned on the boat.”
I said automatically, “The ship. You plan to take one of those craft in the harbor?”
She ducked her head, hair falling in a burnished curtain over shoulders and breasts. She shook it back, and when I saw her face again, it was solemn; mournful, even.
She said, “The Sprite. We sail tomorrow, on the morning tide.”
I said, “Rwyan, you face terrible danger. Should the master learn, I doubt he’d scruple to cast the Sky Lord overboard. Or to bring you to the nearest aeldor, charged with treason.”
She said, “Still, it’s the safest course. We agreed on that.”
I said, “Still, he’s a Sky Lord; our enemy. Can you be safe with him?”
She said, “Aye. He considers me a savior-that he owes me his life. He’s sworn to defend me.”
I did not much like that. I frowned and said, “I’d see you better guarded.”