Cyncaidh stared for a long moment while Macurdy waited. Finally, in a normal voice, he said, “Excuse me, Commander. Let me call my wife; she may be able to advise us. Varia, would you come out please? We’d like you to take a ride with us.”
Varia! It was Macurdy’s turn to stare, open-mouthed. The curtain moved at the rear of the room, and Varia stepped out. He felt as if his windpipe had locked; his throat hurt from the constriction. She was more beautiful than he’d recalled. “I’ll need to change into riding clothes first,” she said, not meeting Macurdy’s eyes. Then she disappeared again.
* * *
She didn’t reappear till Cyncaidh called that her horse was there. Then the three of them left the tent, mounted, and rode to the road, all without speaking. A slender moon hung low in the west, while in the east, the first stars climbed the darkening sky. It was Macurdy who spoke first, in American, his voice thick. “Are you really married to him?”
She answered in Yuultal. “Yes. In this world.”
A confusion of thoughts flooded his mind, but no words came to him. It was Cyncaidh who spoke. “Let me tell you what might be difficult for her to say.” As they rode, Cyncaidh résuméd briefly how he’d found her. Of her assault on him when he refused to take her to Ferny Cove, or let her go alone. Chuckling as he finished. “If ylver scarred as men do, I’d still bear the marks on my face.”
He went on from there: how she’d learned of his love, and nearly drowned trying to escape. And how he and Mariil had teamed up to overcome her resistance. “You might well hold a deep grudge against me, Curtis Macurdy. For if I’d determined to, it’s quite possible I could have gotten her safely to the Oz Gate. But if she’d gotten back to Farside, she wouldn’t have found you, because you were here. It’s only because we did what we did that you’ve met again.”
Macurdy didn’t answer, simply turned his gaze to her and found her watching him. “I can get our children back for us,” he said. “It’s part of my agreement with Sarkia.”
By moonlight, her eyes gleamed with tears. “Oh Curtis, so much has happened. So much has changed! I’ve changed, a lot, and you even more. And Raien and I have a baby, a beautiful child. And what he told you isn’t all there is to tell. I knew early on that I loved him, and couldn’t face it. Couldn’t face what it meant.”
“Do you want to be with him then, instead of me?”
She turned her eyes ahead, not answering for a bit, and when she spoke, she still didn’t answer. Instead she told in a low monotone of her trip to the gate and the Cloister, not omitting Xader’s harassments and death. Of her year there, the Tiger barracks, the rapes, her escape and recapture.
“I know some of it, a little,” Macurdy said. And told her what he’d learned from Jeremid about Xader’s death. Told her briefly of Liiset’s lies, and the tomttu’s. And what the skull had shown him, the skull that had to be Tomm’s.
She was staring at him now. “I could see you had talent,” she said, “but even after I’d explored it, I didn’t imagine how strong it was. What you did to Quaie today—I’ve never heard of anything like that.
“We were innocents when we married. Our dream of farming in Illinois couldn’t work now, Curtis.
“And Raien has a dream too, one I’ve come to share. The same dream you worked on today at the conference table: of a peace held in place by treaty and trade and embassies. But the agreement’s only a first step; none of us will see the dream complete in this lifetime. Imperial government needs to become more rational, its politics more ethical, our people wiser. That’s another part of our dream, Raien’s and mine.”
Again they rode a bit without speaking, and again it was Macurdy who broke the silence, still in a monotone. “Do you love me, Varia?”
“I’ll always love you, Curtis. You were my first love, and it changed me more than you can imagine. It showed me what love is, and that I could love. And later it made me strong.”