The River's Gift by Mercedes Lackey Read Free Book Online Page A

orders as you would mine, for he will be reporting directly to me. We
have far to travel before night comes upon us!"
    Pact? Ariella thought
with growing dismay. Steward? She looked about her for help, but
there was no one she knew nearby. She was completely surrounded by tall,
dark-visaged men in armor whose slate-gray surcoats swallowed up the light of
the room. Before she knew what she was about, Lord Lyon had swept her cloak
about her shoulders and fastened it at her chin, then gathered her up in one
muscular arm and half-carried her out of the great hall, through the front
door, and into the cold wind outside.
    The
horse-litter that Lady Magda used stood ready just outside the door, two sturdy
mules bearing its weight, and Lord Lyon picked up Ariella as easily as a baby
chick and deposited her inside, shutting the curtains on her protests. Tangled
in her skirts and cloak, still dizzy with the Infirmier's bitter potion, she
tried to disentangle herself in the chill darkness of the horse-litter, but
before she could even get one foot free, the mules moved forward with a lurch
that sent her crashing into the cushions. "Wait!" she called,
struggling with cloak, furs, and cushions. "What does all of this mean? I
don't want to leave! Stop!"
    But
no one paid her any attention—in fact, she wasn't certain anyone heard her, and
soon the mules were moving at a pace that sent the litter swaying and
jostling, so that she could hardly get a full breath.
    She
had never traveled by litter, and between her drug-hazed mind and the lurching
of the litter, it was all she could do to keep herself from being knocked senseless,
much less escape from the stuffy, cold, cramped little box. Where was she
going? Where was this man taking her? And most important of all, why?
    Her
head had cleared a little, but in place of the dazed and dizzy feeling, a
headache had begun just behind her eyes. It was quite dark when the mules
finally stopped moving, firelight flickered in the gap between the curtains,
and a hand clad in a thick leather gauntlet shoved the curtains aside.
"We've made camp, my Lady," said a brusque and unfamiliar male voice.
"I fear that a tent is the best we can offer you."
    She peeked out of the litter cautiously as
the man extended a hand to help her down out of it. They were in the midst of
an unfamiliar wilderness of huge pine trees that moaned and sighed in the cold
wind, swaying back and forth as if they were about to pull up their roots and
dance. The litter had halted beside a roaring fire, with a small tent on the
opposite side. Behind her, she heard the sounds of horses stamping and chewing;
before her, men laid out bedrolls beside the fire on the bare ground, while one
skewered rabbits on a spit, preparing to prop them over the flames. She tried
not to look, swallowing hard.
    Lord
Lyon strode out of the shadows and brushed aside his henchman's hand, putting
both hands on her waist and lifting her down out of the litter. "A rough
welcome, my Lady, but you'll have a better at Lyon Castle," he proclaimed
as if to a multitude, gesturing at the fire and the tent. "I am sorry that
your woman wasn't fit for such a harsh journey, but you'll have maids a-plenty
waiting for you at home, and I'm sure you can fend for yourself for a few
days."
    "Home?"
she managed. "I was home! Why am I here? Where are you taking me?"
    He
looked down at her with a patronizing smile. "You are coming with me,
sweeting. Surely your Abbot explained it all to you, did he not?"
    She
put a hand to her aching forehead and blinked, trying to think through the
growing pain and the sick feeling in her stomach. "I—I'm not sure. They
gave me something to drink—things were very confused. I remember—the Abbot did
talk to me, but I can't recall what he said—"
    "And
in your grief, you were not thinking of anything else, of course," he said
soothingly, still with that superior smile. "Well, it is simple, Lady
Ariella. Your father held Swan Manor without a son