Part 5 (1/2)

”I - uh, no, milord.”

”You're in for a treat, my girl. Bryn Shaer means 'Bear's Keep,' and the place is aptly named. Silverback bears come right up to the walls, and -”

”Well, not in the winter, my lord husband.”

I didn't hear the rest of the winter marvels Lord Antoch described. The mountains? Spend the winter in the Carskadon Mountains? ”Doesn't it snow there?” I heard myself ask, and everyone laughed.

”Only a little,” Lady Lyllace said, but something in her voice was too merry.

After that, conversation moved on to other topics, but Merista sagged a little beside me. I plied her for more information.

”I don't really know,” she said quietly. ”Bryn Shaer was closed by the king or something, many years ago. He gave it to my parents as a wedding gift.”

I did some swift thinking. The road to the Carskadons would take me halfway toward Yeris Volbann. If we left before winter set in, I could probably make the rest of the trip on foot, maybe hook up with a caravan on the road. . . . I had Merista's silver bracelet, and Raffin's money, and Chavel's letters - it was a good start.

The meal dragged on, until I thought I'd go mad. Every time I was sure it was over, a swarm of servants appeared from the kitchens, laden with yet another course of food and wine. Finally I'd had it. I pulled into the background, keeping my mouth shut until everybody forgot about me, and then slipped out.

I found a door that led out onto the tower roof and stepped outside, crossing to the battlement to look down. Dusk had sped along, a band of pink low along the horizon, closing another day between me and Tegen. Tiboran's moon was round and full, staring at me expectantly. I made a rude gesture at it.

Somewhere in the southern distance was Gerse. Would I be able to see it from up here? I climbed up onto the battlement to get a better look, and had to grip hard to the edge as the wind buffeted me like a banner, whipping strands of hair into my face.

”What in the name of all that is holy are you doing?”

Strong hands seized me about the waist. I tensed and kicked out instinctively, but these stupid n.o.b shoes weren't going to do any damage. I wheeled in the grasp - and saw that it was Durrel.

”Milord! I did not hear you approach.” That sounded dignified, at least.

”What -” He set me down. ”What were you doing?”

I tried a smile. ”Would you believe I was looking for a way to escape?”

Durrel looked down over the balcony walls. ”I might, at that,” he said quietly. ”I've contemplated the very thing myself, more than once.” Nodding into the sky, he added conversationally, ”A liar's moon.”

”What?” It came out sharp, my heart banging.

”Tiboran's moon is full,” he said, his voice easy. ”Isn't that what they call it?”

I let out my breath in a slow hiss. ”I don't know, milord.”

”Why'd you leave? You missed Morva's famous sloe plum aspic.”

”That wasn't my place,” I said honestly.

”And climbing castle towers by moonslight?”

I had to grin. ”My place.”

Durrel raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. He leaned against the round rough battlement wall. A blast of wind howled round the tower and hit me squarely. s.h.i.+vering, I wavered on my feet.

”Here.” Durrel doffed his doublet and draped it around my shoulders. It dwarfed me. Warm from his body, it still reeked of sour wine and river air, and a musky, salty scent that must have been Durrel's own. I took a step away from him. It was too easy to stand here beside him, as if I'd known him for years. As if I were the girl I was pretending to be.

”Why did you help me?” I said abruptly.

”What do you mean?”

I waved an impatient hand at him. ”You couldn't possibly have known my father.”

He sighed and met my eyes. ”I guess . . . you looked a little like I felt.”

”Miserable?”

”And scared, and lost, and desperate, like you were running from something and couldn't get far enough away.” He looked out over the tangled landscape below us. ”I don't think anyone should have to feel that way.”

”You don't know anything about me.”

A shrug. ”I don't have to.”

”I could be dangerous.” Why was I pressing the point? A conversation like this was likely to get me killed.

A smile played at his lips. ”No, you looked more in danger, than dangerous.”

I turned back to the distant Decath fields, washed with moonslight and shadow. The silence grew too comfortable. ”Are you really getting married?”

He barked out a rough, abrupt laugh. ”I really am. To the indomitable Talth Ceid - a great wooden block of a woman fourteen years older than I am. With four children.”

”That explains the drunken flight from Gerse.”

”Yes, yes, it does.” He s.h.i.+fted against the cold stone walls. ”It's a good match, all things considered. Both families will be strengthened by the alliance. What about you?” he said. ”Any prospects? That brother of yours hasn't cast you up on the marriage block yet?”

I coughed back a laugh at the image - then remembered I had invented this persona. ”Much cheaper to sell me to Celys, and he gets to look pious. So devoted to the G.o.ddess, he t.i.thed his little sister.” There was a strange note in my voice I couldn't quite shake.

Durrel eyed me sidelong. ”Do I detect a somewhat less . . . robust devotion in you, Celyn Contrare?”

This time my laugh broke free. ”Maybe.”

”So, have you really decided to leave us tomorrow, then?”

”What?”

”The caravan to Bryn Shaer leaves in the morning, as you'd have known, if you'd stayed for dessert.”

”Tomorrow?” What was wrong with me? Yesterday I couldn't get out of here fast enough. ”I guess so,” I said.

”I wanted to see you before you left. I have something for you.” In a sleight of hand that would have done a thief proud, he produced a slip of night-black, and held it out to me in his open palm. ”It's cold in the Carskadons in winter; you'll need these.”

Gloves. Almost invisible in the growing darkness, black lambskin with embroidered black vines running along the cuffs and up the thumb. Fitted snugly to my small hands, even the fingertips smooth and supple, they might have been made for me. A thief's gloves. I wanted them. ”Thank you,” I said before I forgot myself.