Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [150]
This seemed unnervingly like …sport.
I spoke to Alais about it, reckoning she was the only one who would understand. She listened gravely to my concerns.
"It is stupid," she said when I'd finished. "Any girl could tell you as much.”
"Do you think I should put a halt to it?" I asked.
"I don't think you can, Imri," Alais said simply. "This isn't Terre d'Ange.”
I sighed. "I don't suppose you've had any helpful dreams.”
"No." Her brows furrowed. "I'm beginning to learn to understand them better, or at least I would if I had them, but I don't.”
"My fault?" I asked.
Alais nodded. "Firdha says I'm too close to you, that all of us are. As long as you're bound like this…" She pointed at my wrists. "It's like there's a fire in the hearth, but a great stone is blocking the chimney. All we can see is smoke.”
"I'm sorry, love," I said. "I'd take them off if I dared.”
She shuddered. "Don't.”
I didn't; indeed, I had Firdha check my bonds. Although the strands of red yarn were beginning to fade and fray, they were holding sturdy. She allowed grudgingly that Aodhan had done good work and she was reluctant to tamper with it unless it was needful.
All was in readiness. The night before our departure, after we retired to our bedchamber, Dorelei presented me with a gift.
"Close your eyes," she whispered. "And hold out your hands.”
I obeyed, mystified, and felt her slide somewhat heavy over first one hand, then the other, careful not to snag the yarn tied around my wrists. I felt the familiar weight of a pair of vambraces settle into place, the inner leather soft against my skin. Her deft fingers did the buckles.
"You can look now.”
I opened my eyes. The vambraces gleamed in the lamplight. The steel plates were riveted to the outer layer of hard-boiled leather. Silver plate overlay the steel, etched with the image of the Black Boar of the Cullach Gorrym, bristling and fierce, in the bold, flowing lines of the Cruithne style. I ran my fingertips over the surface, tracing the curve of his tusk. It was skillfully done, too smooth and shallow to hold the point of a blade.
"Do you like them?" Dorelei asked shyly.
"They're wonderful," I said honestly.
"They were meant to be finished earlier." She took my right hand, turning it over and kissing my knuckles. "But mayhap they'll help keep you safe.”
I cupped her cheek. "Thank you.”
"Oh, well." She gave her dimpled smile. "I've watched you and Joscelin spar. He said you've never had a pair of your own. A proper pair.”
"No." I shook my head. "I found a pair in Lucca, an old rusted pair. They saved my life. But I never …" I thought about it. "I don't know. I suppose it would have felt presumptuous. After all, I'm not a Cassiline.”
"I don't care about that." Dorelei leaned forward and kissed my lips, taking my other hand and placing it on her belly. "I just want you to come home to me, that's all.”
I kissed her back. "I will.”
That night, I gained a measure of insight regarding why men wage war for foolish causes. For all that women's wisdom runs deeper, they are tender and ardent on the eve of sending their men into battle. With the spectre of bloodshed hanging over us, Dorelei and I made love that night, and it had a poignancy I'd never felt before.
And in the morning, I went forth to raid cattle.
Chapter Thirty
We lay on our bellies in the hazel copse, gazing down into the valley.
The slanting rays of the setting sun warmed the grey stone of Briclaedh Castle. It was smaller than Clunderry, but the pasturage that surrounded it was richer.
"Leodan of Briclaedh must have two hundred head of cattle," Kinadius said admiringly. "How many do we try for?”
Urist glanced at me, his eyes like polished stones.
"Twenty," I said. "Settle for no less than ten.”
Urist grunted his approval.
It was, I thought, one of the most unforgivably idiotic ventures I'd ever undertaken; and that was saying somewhat. There were far easier