Leaving the druid behind him, Caswallon set off down the slope toward the city. There were sentries at the gates, but many people were passing through and the clansman was not challenged. As he walked Caswallon gazed at the buildings; they were not like the houses of Ateris, being higher and more closely packed, built of red brick and stone, the windows small.
There were narrow, open sewage channels on both sides of the street, and the stench from them filled the nostrils. Crowds of revelers were gathering on every side, drunken clansmen and mercenaries, many singing, others dancing to the tune of the pipes. Caswallon threaded his way through them, heading for the Citadel above the town.
At the gates he was stopped by two guards wearing bronze breastplates and leather kilts. Both carried lances. “What is your business here?” asked the shorter of the two.
“I seek the Queen,” replied Caswallon.
“Many men seek the Queen. Not all are allowed to find her.”
“It is a matter of importance,” said Caswallon.
“Do I know you?” asked the guard. “You seem familiar.”
“My business is urgent,” said Caswallon. The man nodded once more, then called a young soldier from the ramparts. “Take this man to the city hall. Ask for Obrin.”
The soldier saluted and walked away. Caswallon followed. The man stopped before a wide flight of marble steps, at the top of which were double doors of bronze-studded oak. Before the doors were four more guards in bronze breastplates; each of these wore crimson cloaks and leather breeches cut short at the calf. The soldier led the way up the stairs and whispered to one of the sentries; the man tapped at the door and passed a message inside. After a wait of several more minutes the door opened once more and an officer came out. He was tall and of middle years, his beard iron-grey, his eyes a frosty blue. He looked at Caswallon and smiled. Taking the clansman by the arm, he led him inside the hall. “The Queen is holding a victory banquet,” he said, “but you will not find her in a good mood.”
The hall was vast, with ten high-arched windows. A huge curved table was set at the center, around which sat more than two hundred men and women feasting on roast pig, swan, goose, chicken, and sundry other meats and pastries. The noise was incredible and Caswallon found himself longing for the open mountains. Swallowing down his distaste, he followed the officer forward.
At the far end of the hall, where the table curved like an upturned horseshoe, sat the Queen. She was a tall woman, silver-haired and yet young, and she wore a plain dress of white wool. Caswallon had seen this woman die in the Farlain three years before. Then she had been handsome but old; now she was a beauty, proud and strong, her clear grey eyes sparkling with life and energy. The eyes turned on Caswallon and Sigarni rose from her seat, a delighted smile on her face.
She hesitated, as if not believing what she saw. Then she was running to meet Caswallon. “Redhawk!” she shouted joyously. “You’ve returned!”
Caswallon returned the Queen’s embrace, his mind racing as Sigarni gripped his shoulders.
“Let me look at you, Redhawk. By Heaven, how is it you have become young again? Have you dyed that beard? It was almost pure silver the last time we met.”
“I hear you have done well,” countered Caswallon, his mind racing.
“Well? Now, that is an understatement. The Outland King is slain, his army in ruins. The war may not be won, but we have gained valuable time. Time! Morgase is defeated-but she has vanished. Not one word of her in six months. But enough of that. Where have you been these last two years? I needed you.”
“I have been in my own land, among my own people.”
“You are ill at ease, my friend. What ails you?”
“I am merely tired, my lady.”
She smiled. “Join us at table. We’ll eat and hear a few songs,” said Sigarni, leading him forward. “Later we’ll talk.”
The feast seemed to last an eternity, and great was his relief when eventually it ended. A servant led him to an upper bedchamber. It was small, with a single window and a long pallet bed. A fire was burning in the hearth. Moving to the window, Caswallon pushed it open and gazed out over the mountains. Confused, he remembered again the Queen’s death near Attafoss, and her last words.
“Now the circle is complete,” the Queen had said. “For you told me you would be with me at my death.” And then at the last she had asked, Was I truly the Queen you desired me to be?” The cold winds of approaching winter made him shiver. Closing the window, he crossed the room to sit on the rug before the fire. He thought he had been prepared for anything, but the sight of the Queen had shaken him. She was stunningly beautiful, and despite his love for Maeg, he found in himself a yearning for Sigarni that he would not have believed possible.
For some time he sat there, then felt the draft on his back as the door opened.
Sigarni entered. She was dressed now in a simple woolen shirt of white that showed the curve of her breasts, and dark brown leggings that highlighted her long, slim legs. She sat down on the bed. No more the Queen, she looked now like a clanswoman-tall and strong, fearless and free. Her mouth was astonishingly inviting, and Caswallon found his heart beating wildly.
“What are you thinking, my wizard?” she asked, her voice more husky than he recalled from her greeting in the hall.
“You are very beautiful, lady.”
“And you are changed,” she said softly, her grey eyes holding to his gaze.
“In what way?” he countered.
Sigarni slid off the bed to sit next to him by the fire. “When I greeted you I saw the surprise in your eyes. And now I am here beside you-and yet you do not seek to hold me. What has happened to you, Redhawk? Have you forsaken me for another? I will understand if that is true. By Heaven, I have said my share of farewells to lovers. I would hope to have the strength to accept similar treatment. Is that what is happening here?”
“No,” he said, his mind reeling. Moving back from her, he stood and returned to the window. The moon was high over the mountains and he stared up at the sky, fighting to make sense of her words. They were lovers! How could this be? For Caswallon loyalty was not like a cloak, to be worn or discarded, but an iron code to live by. And yet. ..
“Talk to me, Redhawk,” said Sigarni.
He swung to face her. Once more her beauty struck him like an arrow. “Taliesen told me that you understood the Gateways. You know, therefore, that they allow us to move through time as well as to other lands?”
“Of course,” she told him. “What has that to do with you and me?”
He took a deep breath. “In all my life I have seen you only four times. Once as a babe in the forest, the second time by Ironhand’s Falls, the third”-he hesitated and looked away-“in my own realm… and the fourth tonight in the great hall. Everything you say to me-about us-is… new and strange. If we are to be lovers, it is not now but in a time-for me-that is yet to be. As I stand here I have a wife, Meg, whom I adore, and a small child, Donal.” He saw she was about to speak and raised his hand. “Please say nothing, for I know I would never betray Maeg while she lived. And I do not want to know what the future holds for her.”
Sigarni rose, her face thoughtful. “You are a good man, Redhawk, and I love you. I will say nothing of Maeg…” She smiled. “Just as you hesitated about our meeting in your own realm. I will leave you now. We will talk in the morning.”
“Wait!” he called out as she opened the door. “There is something I must ask of you.”
“The debt,” she said. Then, noting his incomprehension, she smiled softly. “You always said there would come a time when you would ask me a great favor. Whatever it is, I will grant it. Good night, Redhawk.”
“You are a rare woman, Sigarni.”
Turning back, she nodded. “You will one day say that to me with even more feeling,” she promised.