Fire & Water
Ashe: Book Two
Chapter Eighteen
Cairo thought: I just lost her. I made that stupid remark and I lost her. Nothing else would have done it; not jealousy alone or stupidity or even cowardice. She was my friend and she would have stayed my friend had I not… just… done… that. I must have been out of my head.
*******
She’s right.
*******
Five Guardians against the others. Five rebels. Ashe flexed the fingers and thumb of her right hand and watched as the scars there rippled and merged. There were times when she wanted nothing to do with anyone who even spoke the word war, let alone tried to impress her into one. And she didn’t understand and she wasn’t automatically on anyone’s side – Betany’s excepted – and she wasn’t sure that she wanted to. Ashe, she thought, a little sadly, a little ironically. Ashe the least-intellectual of the Twelve Guardians.
For a little time everything became very simple and she could see exactly what she wanted to do.
*******
It had been raining again. Sweet, soft and necessary rain: the valley was becoming dusty and the soft grasses that had once outlined the river that bisected the valley itself were becoming coarse and dry. It had been a long summer and now autumn was taking the world in hand again.
Ardan was restless and tired at the same time. She had attended upon Rhea but the wise-woman was distracted: visits by Ashe tended to have that effect. At length Ardan found herself in her new chambers with nothing to do.
She knew all the stories about forbidden knowledge. She knew all about the risk in lifting the lid on well-secured boxes to find out what lay within. But she wasn’t the opener, was she? No. Ardan was the box.
Berrach’s influence on Ardan’s subconscious would have sent most women – even those with a stronger will than Ardan’s own determined one – out into a world of screaming madness. Now Berrach’s influence had been lifted, like a fish from the river – by default – and Ardan was left gasping for air.
How ironic that she had fallen prisoner not to Berrach’s powers but to her own… appetite.
She lay back on the broad wooden bed that was hers. Betany might be distracted by the demands of a sister’s changing, a lover’s absence and a country’s need (not to mention another country’s care), but she had still found time to ensure that a good room was put to Ardan’s disposal: an attractive room with views of the valley and the distant mountains.
While the walls of Ardan’s chamber were adorned with frescoes, the ceiling was another matter. Not confined to wooden beams or simple white-washing, this ceiling wore a fantastic impression of some place Ardan found both attractive and disconcerting. As she lay back on the fat white pillows and stared upwards, she let her mind ease and go blank, so that the painting became the whole world to her.
The setting was night and the moon was a crescent to the far left of the image. To the right Ardan saw the line of the river, black pitted with stars to mirror the sky above. By the side of the river she saw the lines of a construction of some sort, a mass of branches flung one upon the other but with some suggestion of design. Straight ahead of her and looming she saw the mountains, some of them capped with snow. She could see pathways leading to the mountains, and on some of them she could see figures moving in slow but purposeful directions.
Ardan yawned and stretched and blinked hard to blot out tiredness. Her eyes watered and in doing so began to blur the edges of her vision. She could still see the snow-topped crags but now she was becoming aware of other images: of a narrow boat making its way along the river, of the wooden construct that was suddenly alight, sparks rising up toward the heavy clouds that had almost consumed the moon.
Ardan’s vision blurred still further, but it was only the outline of the room around her that was becoming unclear: the world above her, from the mountains to the river to the bonfire, was becoming more and more vivid. She closed her eyes but the images remained there all the same. Her breathing deepened and steadied and the painting above her joined her in sleep.
*******
I knew the moment that Cairo spoke that she had lost Ashe’s affection. The thing about the Guardians and children meant little or nothing to Ashe: I knew that. One of the advantages of being as I am, empowered in so many different ways, is that I do have some capacity for visiting even such beings as the Lammoran queen’s ex. When I eased my way into the outer reaches of her thoughts, just as she was returning to the dead, I got Ashe’s value pretty clearly in my head. When I next stopped to look around me I found that I actually missed – missed, for the sake of all the gods! – Ardan.
How fucking ridiculous is that?
I admit it. I weakened. I weakened and allowed myself – for whatever reason – a moment of simple curiosity and let my attention be drawn ceiling-wards, to trace a faint outline of Ardan’s unsettled thoughts. She is too far from me now for me to employ her in any way other than – dare I say it? – a slight and temporary release. The journey had been a long one and one I had never intended to make. When Ardan left Laure and Lammor, I had relinquished my grip: what possible continuing need of her did I have? The game with Laure had been a good one but not one to be repeated. I think that it was simple hunger that made me seek out the little apprentice one last time.
Alright. I don’t care: call it what you like. Call it appetite, call it need… Except that I had sworn to myself that need would never be allowed into my world, let alone my private life. Abominable in many ways to find myself weaker than I had thought; less self-contained than I might have boasted about being, it was an unpleasant shock to learn that I was innocently human and prone to innocently human needs.
The little apprentice had done Laure no favours in going off and leaving her at the very time that I had brought her round to desire. I could well imagine Laure’s frustration: how much worse for someone like her who had had for such a long time such a steadily-reliable sex-life, than for someone like Ardan, who had for so long wandered a path that was as close to innocent as anyone is ever likely to get. Ardan, I felt sure, would easily surrender a short time of passion. Laure, on the other hand, I had thought would be ready for plucking.
Wrong again and on both counts.
Sometimes I talk to myself. I don’t do so in any kind of way that could ever be overheard (let alone witnessed) by any of my court, because I’m sane and not remotely suicidal: the Mercians may have accepted me and are beginning to dislike those of Caer Arianrhod who still pace the city’s streets, but they could still oust me. I’m not entirely secure even now. And perhaps I’m not entirely sane, either: the last months have been tiring, to say the very least.
I am not as happy as I expected to be.
It is not long since I had the dream or fantasy, call it what you will, in which I seriously considered doing something good and possibly honest and sensual, rather than anything bad. The time that I searched for and found Ashe I felt myself weakening. The thought… disconcerted me.
I had not thought to try for a proper hold on Ashe while she was simply arranged in the land of the living; when she when I first found her she was dead and I was sufficiently slow and stupid not to realise that this was just a temporary state for my sister’s killer. But once she’d died (again? what kind of idiot keeps dying but does not learn from it not to die again?) it was less hard to trace her. Only, of course, it was she who traced me. When she tripped out of my dreams, shifting dextrously from one world to another, I caught the tail of her coat – as it were – and tagged along.
I think I might be regretting my free ride.
I had thought that Cairo’s revelation (surely it was one) would weaken Ashe. It was disconcerting to realise that the only relationship to be in any way undermined by the discovery was that of Cairo’s with Ashe. I had done my homework and I understood a little about Lammor’s former captain. I had guessed that Cairo stood in relation to Ashe as Alexis did to my sister, but I’d guessed wrongly. How odd that Ashe should have been stupidly loyal to Laure, when Laure was betraying Ashe almost all the time. If I had a lover – when I have a lover – I would demand total fidelity from them. Any lapse and I would… I am not sure what I would do. Be revenged, at any rate. In the book of punishments there are at least a hundred marvellously horrible endings for those who betray. The great hidden library of Mercia would be a useful addition to any household… No home would be complete…
I wonder if I would make Ashe laugh?
With me rather than at me.
What do I do with the knowledge that I want a lover? This is so much the wrong time to even think about sex, let alone go to in search of it. If I met up with Ashe in some realm other than the physical. What then?
I could always try it and see.
*******
It was not a good day. Waking to the knowledge that Ashe was gone – again – and might not be back for winter, let alone supper – Betany had a hard job of facing the usual responsibilities. She did her job well enough: even when sick and dizzy with the occasional headaches that threatened to split her brain in half, Betany ran Caer Arianrhod with an honest and balanced judgement. But when the bulk of the day's labours were done, she was unwilling to settle to anything.
As the day began, Rhea had called Betany to see that Gowdie had woken in human form, thin and tired but easier in her mind than she had been since she’d left Ashe back in the snows surrounding the Red Temple. Ashe hadn’t said anything about any intention of visiting Gowdie, but both Rhea and Betany knew exactly what must have happened. Betany would have welcomed Gowdie back into the everyday sunlight, but her sister refused, saying that she had too little control to venture that far. As the day faded, and Gowdie grew more and more tired, Betany left her sister to the care of Rhea and the guards, while she went up to the top of the tower to look out over the world.
Rhea seemed to understand Betany’s mood, because she made her way up the tower steps – wordlessly complaining nearly all the way at the height and number of paces necessary to the process – and joined her there, at first, waiting for Betany to speak.
Betany said, “I feel at such a loss with her, at times. She tells me nothing of her past. The only new subject that arose during our time together was the threat of the Red Temple; Ashe seems to be steadily worried about that. But that’s all that I know. She didn’t exactly go into detail about everything that’s been going on. Oh, that’s hardly fair. The little time we spent together, we didn’t exactly talk…” She ran her hands through her hair and said, angrily, suddenly: “It’s as if I’m in love with someone who has nothing but the here and now to their personality. And I know that Ashe has lived out a full and generous life: she hasn’t been like Berrach, stuck in a room that’s little better than a box.”
Rhea said, “She spoke with you of Berrach? She did with me, as well. She is aware that Berrach represents a major risk. To be honest, Ashe seems to have a greater respect for Berrach than she ever did for her sister. Of course,” she added, uneasily, “I was hardly a fan of Calypso’s, myself. I may be colouring my own beliefs with my own personal distaste. But so many things have changed: Ashe went so far as to make me agree to forgive Alexis.” She was suddenly aware of having stepped too far, but Betany had missed the importance of the remark, imagining it to refer solely to Alexis’s treatment of the wise-woman. Rhea felt quite light-headed with relief.
Betany smiled. A little colour came back to her cheeks. Rhea smiled too, and said, “I’m sorry, my dear, but I have never been very good at concealing my opinions. A sad state of affairs for a wise-woman, too. You’d think I’d know better.”
“You know Ashe so much better than I do.” The regret in Betany’s voice was quietly apparent. “Sometimes I find myself wondering if I will ever get to know her very well.”
“That happens to us all,” said Rhea, rather sadly. “Since Ardan arrived here I’ve known that something is wrong with her. But she and I are not the confiding type. Perhaps I should say that I have never been the type to whom confessions are made. You are. Ashe is, too, I imagine. But not me. Oh, please don’t worry about that fact: I made my choices and I have benefited more from an unwillingness to confide than I might have anticipated. I have always told myself that it is a lack of time and energy that has kept me adrift from gossip and ordinary chat, but now that I consider it, I wonder if laziness might make a better explanation.”
“I’ve never been much of a one for gossip,” said Betany, touching on the word very lightly. “Gowdie is the same. But Gowdie is capable of a simpler way of life than I am. I was brought up differently: I always knew that I would lack the kind of freedom that comes – for example – like being half karg. I’m never going to grab someone by the scruff of their neck and worry them into a genuine submission. I might take pleasure in believing – for the shortest possible time – that I have the power to dominate Ashe, while at the same time knowing that it’s like holding sand in one’s hand: the sand always escapes.”
“Her new ability to move between worlds I must admit I find disconcerting. Her power is growing steadily, and I hate to admit that I never foresaw what has become of her, and of us all. I knew that I liked her, from that first visit to my tower, but I never paid her that much attention. To be honest, I concentrated more on Cairo, whose behaviour and personality were always so very determined and so ultimately fixed. I wonder now if I went with the liking for Cairo over Ashe simply because Cairo was easier to understand. But by the time I knew that Laure intended to choose another over Ashe I knew that I wanted to help her. I was the one who broke that news to her,” she added, “and I know that I wasn’t very kind at the time. I have always done my best to avoid emotional investment in anyone. Most of the time it only brings pain. I am afraid that in that respect I am rather a coward.”
Betany said, “So there’s never been anyone to whom you’ve been attracted? I’m sorry: that was far too personal a question.” It had struck her – for the first time – that Rhea’s world was far more private than anyone else’s seemed to be. Only Ashe – by dint of her own strange history – kept more secrets than Rhea. Betany added, “I’m probably a coward myself, though in a different fashion. I want to know about Ashe’s time with Laure. Isn’t that ridiculous? I can never ask Ashe.” She placed an odd emphasis on the last word.
Rhea felt a kindness toward Betany for letting her side-step the earlier question; she said, “There are medicines – none of which would harm anyone, no matter what their condition – that may allow one to journey back in time, should they know exactly where their journey would begin.”
They both regarded the view, smiling politely into the middle distance. A few minutes went by. A raven landed on the wall near to Betany, took fright and flew away again. A good omen: they both knew that. “And it wouldn’t take too long to design such a medicine.”
“I thought that anything that powerful would belong more to the realm of spells.” Still distant: the view was evidently very vivid that night.
“Well, I suppose that’s true in the literal sense. Of course: one would have to be careful. But if a person knew where they wanted to go, and drank such a draught with a fixed and honest impression of that place in their mind… And there would be other limitations: the draught prepared would allow for three journeys; no more.”
“It might just work.” Deliberately not making the remark anything like a question.
“Exactly.”
The view was becoming more interesting by the moment, which was strange, considering that the moon was hidden and the darkness developing. Rhea said, “I must be off. I’ve a few things to do. Will your highness be sleeping soon?”
Betany regarded her feet. “Probably not for an hour or so. But I shall be early to bed. Yesterday was not without its demands.”
“I may see your highness later? Perhaps if you were to pass by my rooms in an hour or so.”
“That sounds entirely practical.”
“Goodnight for the moment.”
“And to you.”
*******
They stood over a wonderful and seemingly abstract map of the world. Ashe was entranced by it, and was unwittingly annoying Teinne and Cairo, though neither of them would ever have admitted the fact. The map had been produced for the purpose of showing Ashe exactly where the rebels were situated, geographically speaking; it had not been brought out of storage to be simply admired. Ashe scowled a little when she noted on the map the fine and stark outlines of the Red Temple. If one could erase the place simply by spilling a little water on the carefully painted facets.
At length Teinne said, “Now that you have your affairs in hand, I trust that you are ready to fight.”
Ashe said, “I suppose so.” She looked at the map again. It seemed to her that where the Red Temple appeared, the paper was less smooth. She leant closer, and fell through.
*******
The potion looked quite innocuous. Betany had collected it from Rhea, while they both chatted easily and lightly about the beginning of autumn and how attractive the trees looked as their leaves slid from green to red and gold and silver. As Betany reached the door of Rhea’s room the wise-woman remarked that usually enough of the liquid to coat the base of a normal drinking cup would probably be entirely effective. She added that the draught was best taken just before sleep and that the drinker would need to bring to mind exactly what it was that they wanted to explore. Betany asked if Rhea needed extra space for her work and Rhea said that that would be very useful. They agreed on the improvement in Gowdie and then Betany bid the wise-woman goodnight and went off through the castle.
*******
Outside Caer Arianrhod the moon looked very beautiful, rising high above the slight clouds. Ardan stood at her window and stared out into the cooling night.
*******
Teinne and Cairo attended upon Ashe, who had been so very oddly affected by her second sight of the great map.
*******
Rhea stayed up all night working on a new spell. Something that Ashe had said to her had led her to consider a new approach to treating Gowdie’s enchantment.
*******
For some reason I relinquished my slight hold on Ardan and concentrated instead on another of my headaches: Ashe.
*******
Ashe continued her fall through the map.
*******
Betany poured some of the liquid into the bottom of a cup, then filled it to the brim with goats’ milk. She considered the night for little more than a minute, then drained the blend.
*******
Ashe felt the pull as the different influences on her life began to assert themselves. The sensation was curious but not wholly unpleasant. The sensation was like being caught by a current whilst swimming in the river, and because she knew she was a good swimmer and not likely to drown, Ashe let go.
*******
She was sitting on a bench in a corridor near to the royal chambers. Ashe stretched out her legs and regarded her boots. It was summer, and the stone corridors with their marbled floors were almost the nicest places to be to someone who was less used to the heat. Laure was out in the sun, and Cairo was working: she had promised to meet Ashe for a swim, later in the day. Laure still didn’t understand Ashe’s obsession with water, putting it down to some foreign component in her companion’s make-up. But then of course, she still didn’t like Ashe spending too much time with the too-attractive captain. No matter that she was not faithful to Ashe – that was no-one’s concern but her own – she would have had their throats cut if they ever indulged a pleasant mutual admiration. No matter that there were no assassins in Lammor.
Ashe had been working all day. Laure was too occupied with her own plans, whatever they might be, while Ashe had been alternating her activities: helping to sculpt flowers – she was good with her hands – and helping to decorate the main hall to the best possible advantage. She was willing to lend a hand to most activities, and while she was not always skilled at what she did – flower-sculpting apart: at that she was close to genius – she was nearly always willing, and that made all the difference. Now the end of the day was nearing, and she was tired.
She stood up, felt her legs and back complain at the abuse of the past weeks: who could have guessed that the soon-to-be companion would have to work quite so hard at what would be – in part – her own ascent to a position of some power and much prestige. She would stand in relation to Laure as Jura did to the queen. It would be something else. For the first time in her life she would have some status in the world, and the thought pleased her. How nice to be more than simply a servant.
Because that was how she felt, nearly all the time. She’d heard stories about Jura and the queen, that the queen’s rule extended throughout Lammor, throughout Lascar and the attached countries, but came to rest outside her chamber door. The thought always made Ashe smile, especially when Jura gave her that slightly crooked smile that said: you’re not the only stranger in this world.
She loved Laure. Did she? The first thought came quickly and easily to mind and was immediately questioned. It seemed to Ashe that the closer they came to the ceremony, the more doubts she had. Laure had been off-hand with her for days, but what was new in that? Besides, if she cared to think hard about it, Ashe would have to admit that Laure had been off-hand with her for weeks, months even. There was a thought at the back of Ashe’s head that, like a new dream, refused to be captured and brought into the light of day. The thought wandered through her head at the most inconvenient times, even when she was in Laure’s hands. The thought ran circles round her when she could not sleep, and was staring restlessly at the shadows that night threw about the ceiling of her room. The thought was almost as much a companion as Cairo was, as Cairo had always been.
It was good to have someone on her side. On her side? Cairo was fixed in place there, no matter that she answered – ultimately – to the queen and Jura. Cairo was a post hammered into ground and left to take root. Cairo was her friend. Ashe thought: maybe she’s my only friend. She walked along the corridor, away from the bustle and noise of the central halls.
She didn’t know where to choose to go. Would it be the bathing house first, to see if Cairo was around, or the roof, where she had spent so many hours since her arrival in the palace? Cairo would doubtless be very busy, so Ashe made her choice and went up and up, toward the night and the stars.
It struck her, as she stood in the mild air of evening, that she had forgotten – again – to eat that day. She had grabbed a handful of bread and figs early on, but since then she hadn’t thought to pause, let alone nourish herself. Suddenly she was hungry. But hunger she could cope with; hunger she was used to: the long years of travelling had done that for her. But her stomach complained a little, all the same, and that, combined with the sense of general fatigue was slowing her down. It had been a long day, another in a great many of the same: Ashe had come a long way.
The wall that ran around the top floor was high in most places, but at intervals a lower section – its use inclined toward war rather than geography – allowed a better view of the valley and the surrounding hills. Sometimes Ashe believed that she could see the sea: the sunset would be turning the water to scarlet and peach as the day ended, but Ashe knew that to be imaginings. The sea was much further away than that.
She climbed up and with infinite risk, swung her legs over the edge. All it would take would be the slightest push: she had nowhere to cling on to, and she would be over. Ashe sat in quiet contemplation and with no real thought of fear.
Laure stood in the doorway and watched Ashe. Rhea had refused to produce the potion that the princess had requested. Laure had first thought to demand the end product, but had held off from such a forcible request, saving that for the last minute. But it hadn’t mattered in any case: Rhea wasn’t going to help her.
Would it be so very bad if she just… pushed Ashe? The girl could hardly claim that she hadn’t enjoyed a good life, for however comparatively short a time. If you considered how old Laure intended to be when she died, the prospect was decidedly less generous, but at that point in time Laure wasn’t seeing Ashe as anything other than an obstacle.
Laure seldom spent time in an examination of her own motivations: now that she had Calypso in her life, everything had become very simple. In only a few days she would be rid of Ashe for good, while Calypso would be at her own side and in her own bed. The future shone like the fading light on the distant lakes.
What if she did push Ashe? No-one would ever know that it had been anything other than an accident, and it might just make life easier. With Ashe gone Laure would have the need of fewer lies. With Ashe gone the world would be a simpler place.
Laure considered her options.
The idea of telling Ashe that she would not be the princess’s chosen partner; would be nothing but a servant again within the palace proper, did not appeal to Laure. As things stood she had decided that no specific telling need be done at all: when the announcement was made it was hardly likely that Ashe would scream out imprecations of any sort, claiming that she should be standing where Calypso stood. No. Ashe was too proud for that. Ashe wasn’t going to make trouble.
But Ashe was attractive, and there had been – from very early on – such a sense of satisfaction (combined with the sensation of straightforward lust) to be enjoyed in exerting power over her, that Laure almost regretted the changes that were to come. No matter how often it happened, hadn’t she always seen in Ashe’s face some flicker of resentment when Laure cracked the whip – so to speak? Their time together had been energetic and sometimes almost – Laure had to search for a suitable word and was only finally content with fulfilling. Hadn’t there been a time when Ashe had said: “I could die now, and happily”? They must have been Ashe’s words: they could never have been Laure’s.
Ashe had a nice back, Laure thought, taking two paces toward it. She could tell from the angle at which the girl sat that she was very tired. And there seemed to be an air of something like submission in Ashe’s stance. The thought awoke the ordinary excitement and the simple physical responses followed, like well-trained beasts.
Alright, she couldn’t push Ashe. It had never been any more than a passing thought that she would never have truly contemplated. Years together and soon nothing, or next to nothing. Laure imagined walking toward Ashe, and reaching out not to push but to caress. She imagined her hands working on the buttons of Ashe’s shirt, her touch on Ashe’s skin the same as it had always been: slightly predatory, vaguely mandatory, and wholly smug. This was one area in which Ashe possessed no power at all.
Betany stood at one reserve, watching Ashe, watching the princess, privy to every thought. It was as well, she thought, that she could do no more than visit scenes and read minds: if she had the right of action too the princess would be about to try flying.