“Do you think we can risk a fire this morning? I would like some hot food, and if we are not pursued by now, surely we must have gotten away,” Romilly said, and Jandria shrugged.
“I suppose it makes no difference. If Lyondri truly wishes to find me, I am sure he would not need trackers, seeing that he read my thoughts of him so far away. It would not be Lyondri who pursued us, but Rakhal, in any case.” She was silent, sighing. “Build us a fire, and I will cook some hot porridge, little sister. I have no right to make this trip harder for you with my causeless fears and dreads; you have travelled so long and hard already, Romy, and already I have you off again when you thought you had found a place of repose.”
“It’s all right,” Romilly said, not knowing what to say. She would rather travel with Jandria than remain in the hostel with the strange women among whom she had made no friends as yet. She knelt to kindle a fire. But when they were eating hot porridge, and their horses munching at ease in the grass, Romilly asked, hesitantly, “Do you grieve for Lyondri?” What she was wondering, was this; Lyondri had been her lover, was she still bound to him? Jandria seemed to know what she meant, and sighed, with a small sad smile.
“My grief, I suppose, is for myself,” she said at last. “And for the man I thought Lyondri was – the man he might have been, if Rakhal had not seduced him with the thought of power. That man, the man I loved, is dead – so long dead that even the Gods could not recall him from whatever place our dead hopes go. He still wants my good opinion – so much the message, or warning, meant – but that could be no more than vanity, which was always strong in him. I do not think he is all evil,” she said, and stumbled a little over it, “The fault is Rakhal’s. But by now he must know what Rakhal is, and still follows after him. So I cannot hold him guiltless of all the atrocities done in Rakhal’s name.”
Romilly asked, shyly, “Did you know them both – Carolin and Rakhal? How did Rakhal come to seize his throne?”
But Jandria shook her head. “I do not know. I left court when Rakhal still professed to be Carolin’s most loyal follower, accepting all the favors Carolin showered on him as his dearest cousin who had been fostered with him.”
“Carolin must be a good man,” said Romilly at last, “to inspire such devotion in Orain. And-” she hesitated, “in you.”
She said, “But surely when you were with Orain, you met with Carolin?”
Romilly shook her head. “I understood the king was at Nevarsin; but I did not meet with him.”
Jandria raised her eyebrows, but all she said was, “Finish your porridge, child, and rinse the dish in the stream, and we shall ride again.”
Silently, Romilly went about her work, saddling the horses, loading what was left of their food. But as they mounted, Jandria said, so long after that Romilly had almost forgotten what she asked, “Carolin is a good man. His only fault is that he trusts the honor of the Hasturs without reason; and he made the mistake of trusting Rakhal. Even Orain could not tell him what Rakhal was, nor could I; he thought Orain was only jealous. Jealous – Orain!”
“What is Rakhal like?” asked Romilly, but Jandria only shook her head.
“I cannot speak of him fairly; my hate blinds me. But where Carolin loves honor above all things, and then he loves learning, and he loves his people, Rakhal loves only the taste of power. He is like a mountain-cat that has had a taste of blood.” She climbed into her saddle, and said, “Today you will take the pack-animal’s leading-rope, and I will ride ahead, since I know where we are going.”
When they had come out from under the cover of the forest, Romilly had again the faint far sense of being watched; that trickle of awareness in her mind that told her Preciosa was watching her; the hawk did not descend to her hand, but once or twice Romilly caught a glimpse of the bird hovering high in the sky, and knew she was not alone. The thought warmed her so deeply that she was no longer aware of fear or apprehension.