The Guardian by Angus Wells Read Free Book Online

was Ryadne she addressed, as if I were beneath notice. I watched her pretty face grow red, a pout forming.
    “You’d have me flee,” she said sullenly. “Go away with this hire-sword. But to where? Shall we flee to the clans, and they hand me back to Talan? Naban and Serian shall not risk war with Danant by taking me in, so where shall I be safe? Shall we go south to the Great Sea, to find the Sea Kings? Or perhaps run to the Styge and live as hermits?”
    Ryadne sighed, rising to stand behind her daughter, hands on the girl’s shoulders. “Child, when you come into your power, you’ll understand this better—but I cannot say where you should go, I only know that you
must.”
    “So you ask me to creep away like some night-come thief? You’d ask me to sneak off like some … some Devyn horse-stealer?”
    That was enough. Heir or no, I had listened longenough to this irritating child. I said: “The gods know, girl, I’d sooner face Talan’s sorcerer than ride away with you—I think that should be an easier task.”
    Ellyn gasped, her face expressing outrage. I think Ryadne smiled, but I could not be sure, for the night aged and the candles burned down and shadows clouded all our faces.
    Then Ellyn said, “How dare you?”
    “Easily,” I replied. “I’ve listened long enough to your carping, and were you my child I’d set you across my knee and teach you a sound-earned lesson.”
    I thought she might fling her wine at me for that, and wondered a moment how I might react, but Ryadne intervened. She moved from behind Ellyn’s chair to stand between us, like an adjur settling disputes at the Moot. She put a hand on my shoulder and one on Ellyn’s.
    “Hear me,” she said, “both of you,” and waited until we each nodded our agreement. “This shall not be easy for either of you. But I’ve scryed this—and thus I
know
it is the only way. Easy or hard, can you understand that it must be so? Else Chaldor and all Andur looked to build is lost to Talan.”
    Ellyn said, “You ask too much of me, Mother.”
    I did not like to agree with her, but I could only nod.
    Ryadne said, “The gods ask much of us all. Understand that were it otherwise—had the gods allowed—I’d see it different. But it cannot be so. Do you fail in this, then Chaldor’s lost and Danant shall hold sway, and perhaps all our world fall down. You do not like one another, but I ask you this as queen and mother and seer.”
    I had not known a woman with fingers so strong: they dug into my shoulder with such force as made me wince. I ducked my head and said, “I’ve given you my promise already, no?”
    Ryadne said, “Yes; and I thank you for that, Gailard.”
    I wondered if she drove her hand so hard against Ellyn, but the child nodded and grunted irritable acceptance.
    The pressure eased and Ryadne loosed her grip. “Then go sleep. Gailard, you’ll pass the night here. Take your ease for a day, and then leave at the next dawning. Tell me only what you’ll need for the journey, and I’ll see it readied.
Do not tell me where you go!
Only you shall know that, and Ellyn in time.”
    I felt a terrible dread at that, and a great admiration for this brave woman who would defend her husband’s city even to her own death. I wondered if Ellyn understood as I watched her rise and quit the room, not meeting my eyes.
    “She’s qualities,” Ryadne told me, “for all her temper.”
    “Perhaps I’ll see them,” I said. “Someday.”
    The queen took my hands again. “I told you it was hard duty.”
    Her smile made it worthwhile.
    T hat night I spent in a bed so soft I could not sleep. I was accustomed to hard barracks’ beds, or the ground, or to sleeping in the saddle. I tossed and turned on that downy, perfumed mattress and listened to the complaints of cocks brought into the city, and the lowing of troubled cattle, the bleating of wondering sheep. I watched the sun rise from a window that looked out over the old town and saw the