‘Parsha? But she is a—’
‘I know what she is,’ snapped the Wyrd. ‘She sells her body for money. A man might therefore think that a rape would be a small matter for someone in her profession. It is never a small matter, Kaelin. Rape has little to do with lust. It is about domination and humiliation, the stripping away of dignity, the scarring of the soul. It is about pain. Parsha still has nightmares about it.’
‘Does Jaim know?’
‘No, and I will trust you not to speak of it to him. Jaim is a good man, the finest of the Rigante. His heart is huge, and he carries within him great magic.’
‘Jaim is not a sorcerer,’ said Kaelin.
‘No, he is not. The magic I speak of is elemental. He does not know it is there. Grymauch lifts the soul, Kaelin. Have you not noticed how, in his presence, your spirit soars? He radiates all that is fine in the Rigante. He touches hearts. Were he to kno’w of Parsha’s suffering he would set out to kill the men responsible. That would stain him. Parsha knows this also.’
‘They should be killed,’ said Kaelin.
‘Maybe they should, Ravenheart. Maybe they will be.’
Now Kaelin sat at the edge of the trees watching the road. His heart was burdened, and he felt a great sadness overwhelm him. Before tonight he had killed only two men. Both had deserved it, for they had murdered Chara Ward. Yet what had the guards at the gatehouse done? They were merely soldiers doing their duty. Perhaps they were married and had children of their own. Perhaps they were good men. The sleeping gaoler might have been dreaming of his wife or son. At least the last two deserved their fate.
Curiously there was no sense of achievement, or exultation. He had walked into a fortress and rescued the girl he loved, and all he felt was a sense of melancholy. Kaelin looked down again at the sleeping Chara. Would her wounds ever heal? She shivered in her sleep. Removing the greatcoat he laid it over her. Then sitting with his back to a tree, he dozed a little, and dreamed of the man in the dungeon cell, whose hands and feet had been cut away.
The sound of hoofbeats on the road awakened him. Kaelin crept to the tree line and saw four riders moving at speed. They were beetlebacks. He waited until they had passed out of sight along the southern road. Were they searching for him? It seemed unlikely, for they were moving too fast to see tracks. Even so, their appearance brought back his fear of capture.
He saw that Chara was awake. She was lying quietly, staring at him. ‘You feel rested?’ he asked her.
‘Yes.’
‘Would you like some food?’
She sat up and nodded. Opening the canvas sack Kaelin produced two oatcake biscuits, sweetened with honey. He passed one to Chara. They ate in silence. There came a rustling in the undergrowth behind them. Kaelin wrenched a pistol from his belt and cocked it.
‘It is just a fox,’ said Chara.
‘Yes,’ he said, uncocking the Emburley and returning it to his belt. Chara ate two more biscuits, then lay back down. Within moments she was asleep again.
Kaelin waited until the dawn, then woke her. He did not touch her, but called her name softly. ‘Time to be moving on,’ he said.
She was stronger for her rest, and they made good progress for several hours. They moved warily, stopping often to listen for sounds of horsemen. By mid-morning they had reached high ground, where the trees were thinner. It was unlikely that any beetlebacks would be this high, but Kaelin remained cautious. Colonel Ranaud would stop at nothing to recapture Chara Jace, and there were thousands of men at his disposal. He knew that Chara would try to make it home, and this would give him an advantage. No matter how circuitous the route Chara and Kaelin would have to emerge by the pass.
When they stopped to eat by a stream Kaelin asked Chara if there were any other routes into Rigante territory.
‘No. The mountains cut away for a hundred miles, then curve towards the sea.’