Paladin of Souls - Lois McMaster Bujold [200]
“No. If we clear the gully, I am going to try to win through to the march of Oby.”
“I do not know if the royina can ride that far,” said Foix, clearly picturing not just Ista but the pair of them falling from their saddles at any moment. “Or do you think to meet him on the road?”
“He won’t be on the road. If he’s where I suspect, we’ve less than ten miles to cover. And if he’s not there yet, his scouts will be along soon.”
They dropped into the gully, where they found Illvin’s predicted Jokonan patrol almost immediately. Between the unexpected direction of their passage, Foix’s officer’s garb and wit-fogging sorcery, their horses’ Jokonan gear, and Illvin’s crisp, arrogant court Roknari, they soon left the pickets bowing and scraping in their wake. Illvin returned the hapless soldiers the fourfold Quadrene sign, touching his thumb to his tongue in secret apology to the fifth god as soon as they turned again out of sight. They pressed their horses to a faster pace.
Illvin led them onward, finding what cover the country afforded in low places, little watercourses, spinneys, and groves, angling ever north and east. They had gone some four or five miles before they even stopped to water themselves and the horses. Though multiple columns of smoke still smudged the clear blue air behind them, Porifors had disappeared from sight beyond some low, rolling ridges.
“Can you still feel your bear?” Ista asked Foix, when he’d finished dipping his head in the stream.
He sat back on his haunches and frowned. “Not quite as I did before. Joen did something to us. I hope it was not vile.”
“It is my impression,” said Ista carefully, “that you two have been pressed together by all these events more quickly than you would have grown on your own. Without either of you becoming ascendant or enslaved, you have merged. Because, I think, your demon did not steal your soul, nor did you plunder its power. You both shared freely.”
Foix looked embarrassed. “Always did enjoy feeding the animals . . .”
“Drawing you apart is beyond my present skills—or your present need. You have achieved a curious theological state, but not, I suspect, a unique one. I have occasionally wondered where Temple sorcerers came from. Now I know. I expect it was one of the saint of Rauma’s tasks to judge who might carry this power without succumbing to it. You will need to take training from the Bastard’s Order, probably. I am sure your own order will spare you, if I request it.”
Foix’s face screwed up. “Me, a Bastard’s acolyte? Don’t think my father will be best pleased. Or my mother. I can just see her, explaining it to her lady friends. Ouch.” He grinned despite himself. “Can’t wait to see the look on Ferda’s face, though . . .” He glanced shrewdly at her. “And will you take training, too, Royina?”
She smiled. “Tutors, Foix. A woman of my rank can demand tutors, to wait on me at my convenience. I think my convenience will be very soon, and possibly not too convenient to them.”
The reminder of Ferda and the hope of finding news of his brother overcame Foix’s initial urge to coddle Ista, and it was he who marshaled the horses and boosted his companions back aboard.
“Roll up that tabard and stuff it in a saddlebag,” Illvin advised, settling into his saddle. “Bastard willing, the next scouts we encounter may well be dy Oby’s. Baby Temple sorcerer or no, a mistaken crossbow bolt would not be good for your health.”
“Ah. Yes,” said Foix, and hastened to do so.
Illvin eyed his red stallion, carrying Ista with such exquisite care that she might hold a cup of water without spilling it, and shook his head in wonder, as if of all the marvels he had lately witnessed this was the most inexplicable. “Can you endure?” he asked her. “It’s not much farther now.”
“After walking that mile, riding a few more is nothing,” she assured him. “I feared the god had abandoned me, but it seems He’d only hid Himself within.” And left me to carry Him. It was