Friends (2013) - Adams, Robert

And that was where Bili of Morguhn and his men were headed now. He had sent out riders to look for Giliahna, and search parties had already combed the forest around the ambush site, to no avail. There was nothing more to be done for his sister, and those Ehleenee madmen had to be cleaned out, like lancing a festering abscess.

It was almost nightfall when Stefanohs rode through the gates of the settlement, into the heart of the Stronghold itself. Giliahna was securely tied in front of him. They both looked muddy, disheveled and exhausted; their appearance mirrored their feelings. Stefanohs dismounted and heaved her into his arms. He was taking no chances this time. He carried her into his grandfather’s house and deposited her on a chair. Then he called for a maid to fetch water, and one of his mother’s gowns.

The commotion brought his mother, Sohfeeya, from her sewing room. She was a small woman, her black hair streaked with gray, her tired face still showing traces of her younger loveliness in high cheekbones and large eyes. “Stefanohs, what is this about? Who is the strange woman the maids came running to me about?”

“This”—he waved a hand toward Giliahna, who felt like an untidy package—“is the High Lady Giliahna, and our guest for the time being. She needs a bath, and clothes.” “You also need a bath and clean clothes,” his mother told him.

“It can wait until I have seen the Reverend Father.”

“You can’t go to the Reverend Father’s house looking like a—a cleaner of stables!”

“Just this once, I think he will forgive me, Mother.”

“No, send for him. You can wash and dress properly, while you wait. He will want to see your captive with his own eyes.”

She was right, and he knew it. He had to admit, too, that he liked being in the position of requesting the Reverend Father’s presence rather than running to his summons. It was perhaps a half hour later, freshly bathed and dressed, that he received his august visitor in his grandfather’s reception room.

His grandfather, Pehtrohs, was not far behind the priest, as were the other members of the council.

“Well, Stefanohs, where is the witch?”

“Dressing, I would think. It will take her some time to dry that hair of hers.”

“You ordered a bath for a Confederation witch?” Zakareeohs thundered. He was a tall man, heavy-boned and beginning to run to fat now, though he did not have the flab of most of his fellow priests—he had dedicated himself to the Lord’s service at twenty-five. His face was regular of feature, aquiline of nose and full of lip, the effect of nobility and high-mindedness spoiled by the beginnings of a double chin and jowls. Still he was an impressive figure in his stark dark garb, contrasting richly with his silver hair.

“She saved my life. She is my hostage, and I gave my word that she would be well treated.” Stefanohs tried to make his voice level, but his awe of the Reverend Father showed in the tightness of his speech.

“Why would one of the Undying help an enemy?” his grandfather scoffed.

Stefanohs told them the story in as few words as possible. When he had finished, he saw sympathy and some approval on the faces of his grandfather and the council. But the Reverend Father’s face was carefully blank.

“Have the woman brought to me,” the priest said neutrally. “I will question her in the privacy of my home.”

He swept out.

Stefanohs strode toward the women’s quarters, where he found Giliahna garbed in one of his mother’s simpler gowns. The pale rose set off her pallor as well as it did his mother’s olive skin, and she was brushing out the tangles from her long hair. Her beauty was more than he could have imagined from their days of hard riding. She looked up at his footsteps and began to braid her still-damp hair.

“I’ve come to bring you to the Reverend Father. He wants to speak with you alone.”

“I’m sure he does.” Her voice was heavy with an irony even he could not ignore.

“There’s no need to be afraid. I’ve given my word, and I’ve told him how you saved me.”

She said nothing, but gathered up her white himation and arranged it to fall in graceful folds. “I’m ready.”

They were escorted by six of the Swords of the Lord, all armed. Giliahna wondered if they were so afraid of her, and realized they were, when she saw one old woman back away making a sign against demons.

The Reverend Father’s house was an impressive dwelling, grand enough to house the lord of a small duchy. She was brought inside to his study, where they found him sitting in a richly carved chair, his small, pudgy hands tight on its leather-padded arms.

“So this is the sorceress. No wonder she has bespelled you, Stefanohs. You were always weak when it came to women. She is beautiful.” He spoke dispassionately, as if discussing a vase or some other objet d'art.

“Her beauty has nothing to do with it. 1 gave her my word that she would be treated with respect, as we would wish one of our own to be treated if she was a hostage.”

“And how would your people treat one of my sacred warriors?” the priest asked her.

Giliahna said nothing. The man’s shield was tight as a barrel sealed with pitch. She could pick up no thoughts at all. But she did not need to. The malevolence and hatred that burned in his dark eyes spoke loudly enough.

“They’d torture my fighters until they broke—but the Lord’s chosen do not break! This time we will beat you, and drive you into the sea. We will cleanse this land of your unbelieving filth—”

He stopped himself. “Would your Milo Morai give up a portion of his land for your life?”

She said nothing. There was nothing she could say.

“Will you admit you are a demon-worshiping sorceress and repent your crimes against the Lord?’ ’

Giliahna laughed.

She knew he wanted to hit her, but he was restraining himself, with an effort.

“Your kind tried to break me once. I preferred to die.” She said it calmly, conversationally. “But know that my death will bring the Confederation down upon you. I sent a messenger to Bili of Morguhn, and sooner or later he will find you, and we’ll see who does the cleansing then.”

It was late, and Stefanohs could not sleep. If he was going to act, it would have to be very soon, while there were still hours of darkness to cover their escape. He had sat through the council meeting, listening to the self-congratulatory speeches of his grandfather and the others, trying not to let what he felt show on his face. For one moment, when the Reverend Father had ordered Giliahna to be held under guard in the temple, his mask had slipped, and Stefanohs had been able to see into his mind, and it was like staring into a cesspool. What he had planned for Giliahna was not to use her as a hostage, but to give her as a sacrifice to the Lord—to save her soul by killing by inches, knowing that as an Undying her body would heal itself within minutes.

He could not let that happen. He had given her his word, and he owed her his life. He had added a colorless liquid to the watered wine that would be brought to the guards with their evening meal. It would put them into a sound sleep. There were advantages to being a scout and a spy after all; an ordinary warrior wouldn’t have known of the potion nor thought to use it. By now the guards should be fast asleep.

The shadows hid him as he made his way through the courtyard to the temple. The side door was less conspicuous, so he went in that way, slipping by the guards. No one noticed him. The whole Stronghold, except for those on duty, were still celebrating—madly. He had drunk his share, but had retired early, pleading exhaustion from the last few days of hard traveling. After kneeling for the Reverend Father’s blessing, he had left them to their revels. Their shouts covered any slight noise he might make.

Giliahna was bound with leather thongs to a chair in the sanctuary. Her eyes widened when she saw him, but she made no sound because of the gag. He pulled it free, made a shushing noise, then sawed through her bonds. Then he gave her breeches and a jacket in dark cloth.

“Put these on. You can’t ride in a gown.”

She didn’t waste time with modesty or foolish questions but pulled on the garments. He had a brief glimpse of full breasts and white thighs before she had the breeches on, and then the jacket.

“I’m ready. Where?”

“How good are you at climbing stockades?”

“You should ask Tim that. He taught me when I wanted to be out riding with him instead of sewing. We both had our behinds blistered, but I spent more afternoons riding than I did at my needle.”

“Good. Come on.”

They exited by the side door, and he led her around past the house of the junior priests, who were mostly passed out from the copious amounts of wine they had drunk earlier, judging from the snores. Then he boosted her over the wall and scrambled up beside her. They jumped to the ground, landing hard and rolling.

“Pray the guards don’t hear us.”

“They won’t. I drugged them.”

“Which way?”

He pointed, and together they darted past the outbuildings to the place in the woods where he had managed to tether two horses earlier, while the guards had been distracted. Again he blessed his years of getting revenge on larger enemies by stealth and craft. It had made him a good spy. Now it was helping him to escape.

He looked back over his shoulder for one last look at the Stronghold. He had grown up there, but he had never belonged there. Even to his mother he was an unwanted reminder of rape. The only thing holding him had been ties of faith, and Zakareeohs had shown him how misguided he had been.

But he did see the Stronghold one last time. Halfway through the following day, they ran into one of Bili’s patrols, who recognized Giliahna from her visits to Morguhn Hall. They brought her as quickly as possible to Bili’s camp, where Stefanohs was shocked to see that hard warrior wipe away what looked suspiciously like a tear as he embraced his sister.

He was even more surprised when Bili, who was known for his loathing of anything Ehleenee, did not have him placed under guard but treated him as an honorable prisoner— once Giliahna had told him her story. Bili’s face darkened with rage at the way Zakareeohs had abused her—he had had her beaten while she was under his care, before he had had her taken to the temple.

“For that alone, he deserves to die.”

“It’s nothing to what he would have done if Stefanohs had not come to my aid.”

“It was my doing that put you in his hands in the first place,” Stefanohs said.

“Enough apologies from both of you,” Bili thundered. “We must move against them at first light. Giliahna, can you give us directions to the place?”