more than a few miles from her home; shehad never been beyond the mountains and her ideas of geography were hazy. Carthon might be over thenext ridge, or it might be at the world’s end.
She flung agonized queries into the darkness. How can I, where shall I go ? But there was no answer,only darkness and silence. Had it been a dream born of her frenzy to escape, or had her brother in hismagical trance, somehow managed to reach her mind in truth? If it were so, then she could do nothing butobey.
Melitta of Storn was a mountain girl with all that implied. The prime root of her being was the clan loyaltyto Storn, not only as her elder brother, but as the head of his house. That he was blind and incapacitated,that he could not have defended her and her sister and younger brother—not to mention their people—inthis crisis, made no difference. She did not censure him even in her thoughts and believed, when Allira didso, that the girl’s sufferings at Brynat’s hands had turned her brain. Now he had laid the task on her toescape and find help, and it never occurred to her not to obey.
She rose from her bed, pulled a fur robe around her shoulders—for the night was bitterly cold and thestone floors had never known fire—and thrust her feet into furry socks, then, moving surely in the dark,found flints and tinder and struck a small lamp—so small that the light was not much bigger than the headof a pin. She sat down before the light, cheered a little by the tiny flame, and began to plan what shecould do.
She knew already what she must do—escape from the castle before snow closed the passes, andsomehow make her way to Carthon, where her brother would send someone to help her. But how thiscould be accomplished, she found it hard to imagine.
Page 21
Guards still followed her at a respectful distance, everywhere she went through the halls. Dark and latethough it was, she was sure that even if she left her room they would rouse from where they slept andfollow. They feared Brynat more than they longed for sleep. Their fear of him was made clear to herwhen she realized that not one of them had ventured to lay a hand on her. She wondered if she should begrateful for this, and thrust the thought aside. That was to fall into his trap.
Like all mountain girls, Melitta was enough of a realist to think the next logical step: could she seduceone of the guards into letting her escape? She thought it unlikely. They feared Brynat, and he had orderedthem to let her alone. More likely the guard would accept her advances, take what she offered, then godirectly to Brynat with the story and win approval of his chief as well. After which, Bryant might wellpunish her by turning her over to the outlaws for a plaything. That was a blind alley—she could havemade herself do it, but it would probably be no use.
She went to the window, pulling her furs closer about her, and leaned out. You must be gone beforethe snow closes the passes . She was a mountain girl, with weather and storms in her blood. It seemedto Melitta that she could almost smell from afar, borne on the chill night wind, the smell of far-off cloudspregnant with snow.
The night was not far advanced. Idriel and Liriel swung in the sky; Mormalor, faint and pearly, hunghalf-shadowed on the shoulder of the mountain. If she could manage somehow to leave the castle beforedawn…
She could not go now. Brynat’s men were still at their nightly drinking party in the great hall; Allira mightsend for her still, and she dared not be found absent. But in the hours between deep night and dawn,when even the air was sluggish, she might devise a plan, and be far away before mid-morning discoveredthat she was not in her room. She closed the window, cuddling herself in the furs, and went back to makeplans.
Once out of the castle she wondered where she could go. It would be to Carthon, wherever that was,eventually. But she could not make Carthon in a single night; she would need
She flung agonized queries into the darkness. How can I, where shall I go ? But there was no answer,only darkness and silence. Had it been a dream born of her frenzy to escape, or had her brother in hismagical trance, somehow managed to reach her mind in truth? If it were so, then she could do nothing butobey.
Melitta of Storn was a mountain girl with all that implied. The prime root of her being was the clan loyaltyto Storn, not only as her elder brother, but as the head of his house. That he was blind and incapacitated,that he could not have defended her and her sister and younger brother—not to mention their people—inthis crisis, made no difference. She did not censure him even in her thoughts and believed, when Allira didso, that the girl’s sufferings at Brynat’s hands had turned her brain. Now he had laid the task on her toescape and find help, and it never occurred to her not to obey.
She rose from her bed, pulled a fur robe around her shoulders—for the night was bitterly cold and thestone floors had never known fire—and thrust her feet into furry socks, then, moving surely in the dark,found flints and tinder and struck a small lamp—so small that the light was not much bigger than the headof a pin. She sat down before the light, cheered a little by the tiny flame, and began to plan what shecould do.
She knew already what she must do—escape from the castle before snow closed the passes, andsomehow make her way to Carthon, where her brother would send someone to help her. But how thiscould be accomplished, she found it hard to imagine.
Page 21
Guards still followed her at a respectful distance, everywhere she went through the halls. Dark and latethough it was, she was sure that even if she left her room they would rouse from where they slept andfollow. They feared Brynat more than they longed for sleep. Their fear of him was made clear to herwhen she realized that not one of them had ventured to lay a hand on her. She wondered if she should begrateful for this, and thrust the thought aside. That was to fall into his trap.
Like all mountain girls, Melitta was enough of a realist to think the next logical step: could she seduceone of the guards into letting her escape? She thought it unlikely. They feared Brynat, and he had orderedthem to let her alone. More likely the guard would accept her advances, take what she offered, then godirectly to Brynat with the story and win approval of his chief as well. After which, Bryant might wellpunish her by turning her over to the outlaws for a plaything. That was a blind alley—she could havemade herself do it, but it would probably be no use.
She went to the window, pulling her furs closer about her, and leaned out. You must be gone beforethe snow closes the passes . She was a mountain girl, with weather and storms in her blood. It seemedto Melitta that she could almost smell from afar, borne on the chill night wind, the smell of far-off cloudspregnant with snow.
The night was not far advanced. Idriel and Liriel swung in the sky; Mormalor, faint and pearly, hunghalf-shadowed on the shoulder of the mountain. If she could manage somehow to leave the castle beforedawn…
She could not go now. Brynat’s men were still at their nightly drinking party in the great hall; Allira mightsend for her still, and she dared not be found absent. But in the hours between deep night and dawn,when even the air was sluggish, she might devise a plan, and be far away before mid-morning discoveredthat she was not in her room. She closed the window, cuddling herself in the furs, and went back to makeplans.
Once out of the castle she wondered where she could go. It would be to Carthon, wherever that was,eventually. But she could not make Carthon in a single night; she would need
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