The Shattered Chain by Marion Zimmer Bradley Read Free Book Online

came and bent beside her, roughly wadding the wound with her kerchief, wrapping it hastily with the belt of her tunic. Leeanne came out of the darkness, carrying in her arms a small form in a long nightgown, barefoot. She set the little girl on her feet, and in the dim light Rohana caught a glimpse of a small, surprised, sleepy face.
    “Mother?”
    “It’s all right, my darling, they are my kinswomen and our friends,” Melora said in a singing voice; she stumbled, and Kindra put a hand under her elbow.
    “Can you walk, Lady? If not, we can carry you somehow—”
    “I can walk.” But Melora stumbled again and put out her hand to clutch at Rohana’s arm, thinking, For the first time in a dozen years I am outside that wall with unbound hands. Walk? I could run… I could fly. Hurrying along between them, stumbling, she lost track of where her steps were taking her. Anywhere. Anywhere away from here. Like Garris…Poor little creature, I hope they do not hunt him down for Jalak’s murder. …
    She felt the knives of pain in her side and back, felt the weight of her unborn child dragging at her, not caring. Free. I am free. I could die now, happy. But I must not die and delay them. …
    The deserved marketplace was a silent wilderness of empty stalls, deserted booths. Rima and Devra came out of the dark, near where the horses waited. “The gates are clear,” Rima said, with a suggestive gesture—a finger drawn across her throat.
    “Come, then. Leave everything but your own saddlebags and food for travel,” Kindra said, leading Melora to a horse with a lady’s saddle. “Before you mount, domna, get into these clothes; they may not fit well, but they will be better for riding than that nightgown.”
    Melora felt Rohana slip her gown over her head, under cover of the darkness; help her into the long, loose trousers, tie them around her waist; slip a fur-lined tunic over her head. The faint smell in their folds made her want to weep with recognition and thankfulness: the spices and incense used to sweeten the air in every home in the Domains. She caught back a sob, letting
    Rohana help her to her saddle, slip suede boots—far too big on her feet.
    She looked around anxiously for Jaelle; saw that one of the Amazons had wrapped her in a cloak and lifted her to a saddle behind her, where she sat alert, amazed, her long straight hair streaming down her back, too excited and astonished even to ask questions.
    Kindra took the reins of Melora’s horse, saying, “Sit your horse as best you can, Lady; I will guide her.” Melora clung to the saddle-horn (unfamiliar, after so many years, to ride astride again!) and watched, tensed against the pain of moving, as Kindra moved to the front of the little column of riders. She said in a low, tense voice, “Now ride like hell, all of you. We may have as many as five hours before the sun comes up and somebody finds Jalak in his blood; but we won’t have more than that no matter how lucky we are, and from this day on for the next three dozen years, no Free Amazon’s hide will be worth a sekal anywhere in the Dry Towns. Let’s go!”
    And they were off. Melora, clinging to her saddle, bracing herself as best she might against the jolting of her horse’s gait (though she realized that Kindra had indeed provided a horse with an easy gait, the best available for a pregnant woman), looked back for an instant at the black loom of the walls of Shainsa.
    It’s over, she thought, the nightmare is over. Thirteen years of it. Jalak lies crippled for life, hamstrung, perhaps dying.
    I hope he does not die. Worse, oh, worse for him to live and know that a pack of women has done this to him!
    I am avenged, and Valentine! And Jaelle will live free!
    They rode into the night, unpursued.

    Chapter
    THREE

    To the end of her life, the Lady Rohana Ardais never forgot that mad ride, fleeing from the walls of Shainsa; alert at any moment for some small sound behind them that would mean Jalak—or