Part 20 (2/2)
”She comes with us,” Cedrik persisted. ”She can decide for herself where she goes thereafter.”
Deacon hesitated a moment then lifted her dead weight into his arms. ”She's in your care,” he said, bearing her to Cedrik's horse. The latter a.s.sisted Deacon and between their efforts, successfully secured her. Cedrik pulled himself onto the horse behind her, supporting her in his arms. Deacon briskly mounted his own horse. ”It will be a wearisome journey for you, till she wakes.”
Cedrik glanced at him angrily, then with a sharp kick to the beast's side made off. They had not travelled far when Deacon drew rein and, leaping down, created behind them an airy ma.s.s. Any sign of their tracks disappeared as if they had vanished into the blowing night like a confusion of dust.
Chapter33.
Commencement -efore the night was ended, the fleeing companions had set up camp and prepared a hot meal. Near at hand, three tents made a ring around them. Remaining in a swoon, Magenta lay near the fire. Her kind-natured overseer had draped a blanket about her shoulders and smoothed her brow free of care.
The three men ate in silence, weary and worn, the firelight close round them. Their hearts had been bruised. The youngest sat quietly, miserable after the misadventures of the night. He seemed to forget the plate in his hand. Deacon sat with a map spread out over his lap, tracing his course.
Cedrik broke in on the quiet. ”Where are you to go from here?”
”My course is as yet undecided,” was the vague answer.
”You will not go to Terium?”
Deacon looked up. He was not entirely surprised. He knew Cade could not have helped but open his mouth. ”I had considered it,” he said, binding himself to nothing. Cedrik knew he was lying; his will was intent upon it still.
”Why do you not come to the Imperial? You will be safe there. Both of you.” He glanced down at the sleeping woman.
Deacon shook his head. ”I don't need protection. You may take her with you.”
”I would, but I doubt she'll be persuaded easily to leave your side.”
”She has little choice in the matter,” said Deacon. ”I'll not take her with me. She may return with you, or she may venture elsewhere, but she cannot remain with me. When do you suppose to leave?”
”Unless Derek feels the need to return home directly, we'll remain with you for a time yet. I really think it would be best to return home,” said Cedrik.
”Do you?” said Deacon. ”Then why not return? I'll not stop you.”
”Why are you so eager to be rid of us?”
”I'm not certain if you recall, but I didn't want you to come with me in the first place. But you do as you will.”
”Where are you to go?”
”I told you, I don't know.”
Cedrik frowned and left it alone. Deacon reached and took up a plate. The map that lay open on his knees he put aside. He put food to lips as if with an involuntary action. Presently his eyes drifted to the figure softly breathing. The dim glow of firelight spread warmth over her features, the blanket draped over her had fallen loose, and he could see the soft white curve of her breast, gently lifting and falling with each breath. With quiet absorption, he continued to gaze at her.
”She's beautiful,” Derek said after a time. Deacon glanced up at him, not realizing he had been watching all this while. Deacon mumbled a vague a.s.sent, then returned his attention to the plate, taking a forced mouthful. It was not long, however, until his eyes strayed over again.
”Will she be like that all the night?” asked Cedrik.
Deacon shook his head; he didn't know.
”You did this without knowing the results?”
Not long had they discussed her, when they saw the object of their conversation begin to stir. The dark began to drift clear of her vision, and Magenta soon saw the blaze of a small fire and could feel its warmth. The smell of roasted meat came to her and nauseated her. A rolled blanket had been placed gently under her head, though it still ached.
She couldn't at first grasp any orientation. Languid with a sleepy warmth, she began to sit up and felt gentle hands a.s.sisting her; though they did little more than rest lightly on her shoulders, she was grateful for the gesture of kindness. It was Deacon whom she expected to see, but she looked instead into the face of Cedrik, his young and fair features filled with gentle concern. His eyes were not unlike Deacon's-but were a softer, lighter blue, without the black fire.
”Are you well?” he asked with tender sympathy. He knew his cousin would not hurt her intentionally, but magic was involved, and like his father, he mistrusted it. She gave vague a.s.sent as she settled to a sitting position; the blanket drawn round her shoulders.
Deacon made no move toward her. At first she gave him no glance of recognition, her mind heavy and clouded, but by degrees the confusion cleared, and she saw him there by the fire. He sat leaning over his knees, a plate held in his hands. He wore plain black leather pants and s.h.i.+rt. He looked grim, inaccessible.
”Is it the same day?” she asked. She had no perception of elapsed time.
”We left Cheydon but a few hours ago,” answered Cedrik. Magenta drew the blanket around more closely. She looked to Deacon and wondered why it was not he who crouched over her. She remembered that he had wanted to leave her, that he had whispered strange words, and that a blackness overwhelmed her, but his heart had softened and he had brought her with him. Why then did he sit apart from her?
”You should have something to eat,” he said in a toneless voice, offering a plate, which Cedrik, without quitting his touch on her arm, took upon himself to receive, since Deacon made no effort to lean forward. Cedrik offered it to her, but she, with a weary gesture, declined.
”You will feel the worse for it if you don't,” said Deacon. He looked at her with dark eyes that she could not understand. She felt cut off from him. Smiling bleakly at Cedrik, she took the plate and after scarcely putting the food to her lips, put it down again.
Cedrik arose and stepping over his brother's outstretched legs, resumed his seat. The moment he was gone from her side, she felt the fullness of her loneliness. His presence, though light, had sustained her, as the small flame of a candle wards off the darkness in a closed room. In her heart the world seemed dissolved away. Deacon denied himself to her. His face wore that fixed expression where all tokens of emotion were concealed and would give her no more recognition than if she were a stranger.
Magenta bore the strain of belonging to him, yet being unclaimed by him, with an aching heart. She could scarcely endure the empty feeling where he should be. Now and then she looked over, but he seemed to refuse to meet her gaze. His manner confused her. In the few moments in which his attention strayed to her, his face betrayed little emotion. Indeed he looked at her so infrequently, and with such fierce indifference, that a casual observer might not see any suggestion of intimacy beyond that of an acquaintance. But to a more observant onlooker, there was a tenderness in his sideglances that could not be seen when he looked directly at her.
Derek managed to note that the half-averted eyes, the forced avoidance, and her so obvious suffering to it, all declared that there was in fact a bond between them, some shared tenderness in the past. He could not contemplate their manner as implying less.
The night was very dark. All around them was the large, lonely shape of trees. Cedrik was about to approach the subject of their journey and arrangements but thought best to leave it till the morning, when things are always less daunting. Presently Deacon stood. ”I'm going to bed.” He laid a heavy hand on Cedrik's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. ”Sleep in peace.”
Cedrik nodded wearily and let his head hang. Before moving to his tent, Deacon pa.s.sed brief acknowledgements to the others. Just as he was about to push back the opening and duck to enter, he became conscious of Magenta at his shoulder.
”Am I to remain by your side through the night?” she asked quietly, close to him. She could feel the presence of the other two behind them, burning into her. It was almost insufferable. She wanted to hide herself against him, wanted him to cover her.
”No,” he said. ”No, I think not.”
Something seemed to trouble him. He was foreign to her. Magenta glanced back at the brothers who were looking everywhere but at the couple, trying to provide them with a sense of privacy. She lowered her voice further still. ”What has happened?” she asked in the anguish of perplexity. ”What has changed?” In her soul she felt exposed. She could scarcely bear for him to leave her uncovered. Deacon glanced swiftly at their silent audience and back to her. He remained distant and strange, with an unresponsiveness verging on coldness.
Cedrik had the presence of mind to keep his face down, but Derek was watching from under his eyebrows. There was a kind of intensity between them, a lowered tone, a suggestion of suffering. He could hardly stand it. It was evident she loved Deacon, and by his manner it seemed he gave her reason. It gnawed away at Derek till he was cursing Deacon as a cold, heartless, fickle wretch.
Deacon would say nothing. His silence left her alone with all the agonizing emotions, and she understood that he was terribly exasperated. ”There's enough room for the brothers to share a single tent,” he said in a moment. ”That one will be sufficient for you. There's an extra blanket in my bag should you feel the cold.” He stooped to enter the tent, but she caught his arm in both her hands.
”At what point was I so unfortunate as to offend you?” she asked in cold distress.
”You have not,” he murmured, not looking at her.
”Why then do you distance yourself from me? Why do I see only coldness in your eyes?” He thought he heard tears in her voice, but his lifted gaze only saw perplexity. She whispered, ”Why do you despise me?”
”It's not true,” he said.
”Without a word you were going to leave and never return. Is that not true?” she said with searching, disappointed eyes. ”Why do you turn against me?”
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