Redeeming the Lost by Elizabeth Kerner
“They have called in our debt,” Donal had said. And “They gave us power.”
Hells.
I grabbed Rikard from the frantic melee around Donal’s corpse. “Where was he quartered, Rikard? Where did he serve?”
“He worked in a little branch of the House of Gundar some leagues north of here, towards Elimar,” said Rikard, still gazing at the body. Rikard’s voice was flat, though with anger or with shock I knew not, nor cared in that moment. I dragged Jamie a little apart.
“Hells’ teeth,” I whispered to Jamie, “that’s it. The House of Gundar. We were right, damn it, the Healers are all sold to Marik and Berys the Bastard.”
“Every one? In all the Four Kingdoms?” Jamie swore. “Hells, there must be hundreds!”
“And Donal said the debt had been called in. If that’s an example—”
“Lady save us,” muttered Jamie, and I’d swear he turned pale under his tanned leather skin. “Hundreds like him? Walking demons?” He shuddered. “What chance would anyone have against them if there were no dragons by?”
“Little to none,” I growled. “But Vilkas said there was another way. The death of the demon-master who made the pact.” And I felt myself smile horribly. The idea of Berys’s death had always appealed to me.
“The sooner the better.” Jamie’s sudden grin frankly blazed. “I’m first in line!” he cried.
“Only one tiny problem,” I said ruefully. “We don’t know where he is.”
“Ah,” said Jamie, suddenly quiet. “It is just as well then, isn’t it, that we’ve a Farseer to hand?”
And with that he strode over to face Maran, who stood, head high, waiting for him. I would have greeted her but she was too busy staring at Jamie, who was giving as good as he got.
They were both closed and armoured, hearts locked securely away. At least, I knew Maran well enough to see that’s what she thought she was doing, the poor innocent. You’re a blacksmith at heart, my girl, I thought, wrapping my own fragile heart in stone. You’ve had no practice. You can’t lie to iron.
Jamie, now, he was a lot better at it, but when he saw her like that, so much older, so much like Lanen, and trying so hard to pretend that she didn’t love him with every bone in her body—well, I had known it was coming, no matter what Jamie said. I was desperate to turn away. I forced myself to wait and watch.
“Jamie,” she said, nodding to him, not trusting herself with more. I swear the sun could have turned green just then and she’d not have noticed.
“Maran,” he said, nodding back.
Lanen, who stood astounded, watching, could wait no more. “Maran!” she cried. Lanen’s eyes were huge with the shock, and I could practically hear the clang when her gaze locked with her mother’s. They both just stared for ages, then I swear, with a single breath they both said exactly the same thing, with exactly the same inflection.
“Hells’ teeth!”
I led the retreat. I think Jamie would have stayed, if only to ensure a fair fight, but I grabbed his sleeve and hauled. I made sure Rikard came too.
The poor souls. It was going to be hard enough without an audience.
Lanen
For the longest time I just stood there, staring at her. To be fair, she was returning the favour. Neither of us said anything after that first outburst. Everyone else must still have been there—I know Varien was somewhere near—but I saw no one but her.
She was my height or a little more, though she looked to have twice my strength: her thick linen shirt covered shoulders wider than mine, and could not hide the impressive lines of her arms beneath. Her hair, light brown like mine but with a generous coating of silver, was braided and wrapped round her head like a crown. Her eyes … ah, her eyes. I knew them. They were the same as those that stared out of my mirror. And hers were crinkling at the edges.
“Hullo, lass,” she said, grinning suddenly. Her joy was mixed with a measure of panic, to be sure, but for all that it was overwhelming. “By my soul, Lanen, but it’s good to see you in the flesh.”
“Maran Vena,” I replied quietly, my mind reeling, my belly fluttering. Nervous, frightened, angry, floating on a sea of wonder and of fury and of longing that threatened to undo me. “Maran. Mother.”
No, it wasn’t yet real. Impossible, she was on the other side of Kolmar—“What in the name of sense are you doing here?”
“I do still have the Farseer, you know,” she said, her grin fading to a wry smile, her self-control taking hold again. “I left Beskin while you were on the Dragon Isle. When it became obvious that Marik had recognised you and knew you for his. By the time you had started back with that new-minted husband of yours, I was well on my way. I’d swear it was chance that brought us to meet here,” she said, her eyes narrowing, “but the world is a strange place at the moment. I’m not so sure I believe in chance just now.”
I suppose I should have been shocked that she knew about Varien but, to be honest, in the face of her presence it seemed a minor point. A thousand questions, a thousand blessings and curses and demands coursed through me. Why did you leave? Why have you not returned until this moment? Was I so terrible? Did you hate me? Did you love me?
“Why did you want to talk to me?” I managed to choke out. Ah, well, it wasn’t the most pressing question, but it was a start.
She sighed. “There is much I need to tell you.”
“Is there, by all the Hells,” I snarled. I hadn’t meant to be angry with her. I could see her calling on every ounce of courage she possessed not to fly from me—but I swear, I felt possessed. The words that burst from me didn’t even seem to be mine, at first. “Then why has it taken you twenty-four years to bloody well come out and say it! Goddess, Maran, was I so terrible you couldn’t bear me even for a year?” And then it came out, the one thing behind all my bluster, the one thing every abandoned child needs to know with all her heart, no matter how great the fear of the answer.
“Why?” I demanded, my voice high and thin and not my own. “Why did you leave me?” Oddly, I seemed to be shaking, and my eyes stung. “Why didn’t you ever come back?”
My mother lifted her chin, her eyes wintry, her face like carven stone. “Lanen, I swear to you, my soul to the Lady, I left you because I believed you to be in peril of your life.”
“And was I?” I asked.
She shook her head, unable to speak, and finally whispered, “No. I was wrong. I didn’t know it for years.” She cleared her throat and managed to reclaim her voice, or most of it. “And even when I knew you were safe I didn’t dare come back.”
“Why not?” I demanded.
She smiled at me then, one corner of her mouth tilted up. “I was too bloody scared, what do you think? I know how I’d feel if I’d been abandoned.”
“No you don’t!” I shouted, my fists clenched. “No you bloody well don’t!”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or be sick. It felt as though a dozen mice were quarrelling in my belly. I had longed for this day from the moment I had understood, as a small child, that I didn’t have a mother like everyone else. Jamie had done what he could and I adored him, but—every girl needs her mother. I had mourned for her, longed for a mother’s touch, been desperate for the wisdom of an older woman, so many, many times—and now here she was. Now, when I had faced death not once but several times, now I had grown strong and been wed and had children growing below my heart. I didn’t know whether I wanted to throw myself in her arms or punch her in the nose, though if I am truthful the latter was the stronger impulse.
She nodded. “No, you’re right. I don’t.”
“It’s terrible!” I shouted passionately, shaking my fists in her face, my whole body shaking with the terrible release. “Unloved, unwanted, abandoned—with only Jamie to look after me, and Hadron who hated me left to bring me up. How could you just walk away from your daughter?”
“Because I was young and stupid and I thought I was saving your life,” she replied sternly. “Lanen, I can’t chang
“You’re too damned late!” I shouted, my voice soaring as years of hurt tore through me. Here I thought I’d got it out of my soul long since, the more fool I. “You’re twenty years too late! Where were you? Why didn’t you come before now?” I demanded. “Why did you leave me there, my whole life there at Hadronsstead, with that man? It was terrible! I thought Hadron was my father! He hated me, and for years I thought I was evil and twisted because I couldn’t bear him either.”
“Lanen—” she began, but I was fairly started now and I couldn’t stop.
“He kept saying I was too tall and too like a man and not fit for anything or anyone!” I watched as my words struck her like so many daggers. Years upon years of that terrible loneliness poured over me afresh, and all the bitterness, all the years of desolation, came pouring out in an agonized flood—and she stood there like a rock in a stream and bore it. “I believed him. There was a time when I even thought of killing myself to get away.”
Damnation. I’d never admitted that to anyone. I’d barely admitted it to myself.
“If it hadn’t been for Jamie I’d have gone mad years ago. Goddess, Maran, how could you leave Jamie to look after me? Did you ever love him as he loved you? Did you ever even think about him?” My throat caught, then, as I stood a handspan before her and shouted past the tightness. I wanted her to shout back, cry, rage, anything, but she just stood there and listened. “Eh, Maran? Did you ever think about me? Did you ever love me?”
She never moved.
“Damn you!” I screamed, and without thought I drew back and struck her as hard as I could across the face.
She took the blow without flinching. A distant, cool part of my mind took careful note that, whatever else she may be, she was bloody strong. “I deserved that, Lanen,” she said. Her calmness was infuriating. I went to strike her again, anything to get a reaction, but this time she stepped in and caught my wrist in a grip of iron. And held it.
“Listen to me, Daughter,” she said, keeping her voice low and as steady as she could. Her eyes were the hopeless grey of a winter sky, but they were sharp and focussed entirely on me. “I don’t expect you to understand or approve or forgive what I did, but you will hear me.” She was breathless, suddenly, and had to stop and just breathe. I wrenched my arm, trying to pull away. I might have been a child for all that her grip loosened.
“When I left you I was sure I was saving your life,” she said finally. She closed her eyes just for an instant, swallowed, continued. “The demons had found me. Found us. I didn’t learn that I was wrong for sixteen years.”
“Demons?” I repeated, suddenly shaken. A memory from before memory came to me then: a bright room, dark fear with red eyes, a flash of silvery metal.
“Demons,” said Maran, letting go my wrist. “Have you never wondered why you have that scar on your right shoulder?” She reached out and touched the exact spot. How in the Hells did she know that?
I shivered. “Jamie said I hurt myself when I was—tiny—” I said slowly.
“It’s a demon scar, Lanen,” she said, her face unreadable. “You weren’t even a year old. They came for me. I had learned how to get rid of them, but that time—that time there were more of them, and they hurt you as well.” For the first time her gaze left mine as she lived that moment again. I wondered, in a quiet part of my mind, how many times she had lived it over the years. “It was such a tiny scratch, but you cried so hard. I had to fight you even to cleanse it. By the time I was done I was shaking so badly I had to put you down lest I drop you.”
I waited.
“I was younger than you are now, Lanen. I knew so little of life,” she said, and for the first time she let her guard down a little. “I knew it was wrong to treat Jamie so, but—”
“Why did you, then?” I demanded.
She stared into my eyes, challenging me. “Life is not always black and white, Daughter. Sometimes we just have to find the shade of grey that we can live with. The sooner you learn that, the better.” She frowned and looked away. “I thought the demons would take you and any who cared for you. My own life I never feared to risk, but I could not bear that they should hurt either of you, whom I”—she stopped and wrapped her arms about herself—“either of you, whom I loved.”
“I see. You loved us,” I mocked. “You loved us so much you abandoned us for twenty-four years.”
Maran sighed, and in that moment her whole armour of self-control dropped away, leaving only a middle-aged woman with a weary heart. “Bloody stupid, isn’t it? Hells, Lanen. I know I’m too late,” she sighed. “I know I’ve done damn near everything wrong, but”—she caught my gaze again and said very quietly—“my soul to the Lady, Daughter, I loved you and Jamie so much that I murdered my own heart and left you. I could not bear to be your death.”
I shivered again, blinking back tears—and my new deeper vision shocked into me against my will. I had been fighting it, not looking deep into her eyes, not wanting to know, for now I could see the truth of her: the desperate fear, the courage it had taken to dare this meeting, the resolve that held her to her course in the face of such pain, risking all in the name of hope.
“That’s it, and all the truth of it,” she said. “I found out about eight years ago that I need not have left you. The Farseer didn’t work the way I thought it did.” She managed a wry smile. “Berys was just being enthusiastic. By then, though, I feared—well, this.” She shrugged, her hands turned palms up and open in surrender. “Should have faced this the moment I learned the truth, shouldn’t I? Got it wrong again. That’s no great surprise.”
She stood there, waiting. When I said nothing—how could I speak in the face of this revelation, with twenty-four years of thoughts and feelings still fighting to get out?—she nodded, and those broad shoulders slumped even as her chin rose. “As you will, Daughter,” she said, and turned to go.
I was ready to curse my new sight, for I could see pain scoring her soul like terrible weals from a whip. Odd, I thought. That’s
Well yes, idiot. That’s the point, isn’t it?
“Mother?” I whispered after her.
She stopped and turned back to me slowly, hardly daring to believe what she had heard.
“Mother, please, I—oh, Hells, don’t bloody leave again!” I cried. She was back in a moment, and we finally dared an embrace.
What ever happened to the strength of lonely despair? I asked myself mockingly, even as I felt my mother’s arms around me for the first time, even as I clung to her. I thought that was what made us strong?
No, I corrected myself. That was what helped us survive. Knowing that love had not deserted us, even when we couldn’t feel it—Jamie and Varien, our babes unborn, now perhaps Maran/Mother—that’s what has always made us strong.
We did not hold each other for long, and we both knew as we drew apart that this was only the beginning, but—I cannot speak for her, but I felt something very small, very deep inside me, change. As if a wound deep within had stopped bleeding at last; as if a loose brick deep in a well had been mended and the clear water could begin to find its true level.
We were not given long to consider our meeting, for at that moment Jamie and Rella came striding up to us.
“Thank Shia you two have finally stopped shouting,” growled Rella. “I’m sorry, but there is no more time for this. We need your help now, Maran.”
She grabbed each of us by an arm and drew us away, past where Rikard and his students were laying out the body of poor Donal. There was quite a crowd of the townsfolk starting to gather.
Varien appeared again at my side. I took great comfort from his presence, though I still felt—detached from myself. Everything seemed so unreal.
Rella was busy explaining to Maran about the corrupt Healers, and why she and Jamie needed the Farseer. “Can you find him?” she demanded. “I never have understood the limits of that thing.”
“Oh, I can find him, certain sure,” said Maran, frowning. She seemed to be having as much trouble as I was, trying to wrench her mind back to the matter at hand. “The dragons aren’t going to like the smell of me doing it, though.”
“I feel certain that Shikrar will forgive its use in so worthy a case,” said Varien, a crooked smile on his face.
Maran shrugged off her pack and carefully withdrew the Farseer. I remember thinking it had no business looking so normal. Just a big glass ball. “There is a difficulty, however. I may well not recognise what I’m seeing.” She turned to Rella. “This is where you get to work for your information, my friend. I gave up wandering twenty years ago.”
My mother—how strange, to say that!—my mother knelt down, putting the smoky glass globe on the ground before her knees, and we all gathered round. Will had wandered over to see what we were doing. Jamie and Rella were nearest, as they had travelled most.
I think I was expecting some kind of ritual. Far from it. She put her hands on either side of it and said clearly, “Show me Berys,” and instantly an image formed in the globe. It was him, sure enough, in an airy, well-lit room, asleep in the middle of the day on a luxurious bed. I thought of sleeping on the stone bench in my bare cell and wished him seven kinds of ill.
“It could be anywhere,” said Jamie, fidgeting in his frustration, trying to see around the edges of the image. “Can you—does the thing move?”
“What do you mean?”
“Getting a look out that window would be a good start,” said Rella, shivering. I looked up. The morning was starting to cloud over and a nasty cold wind was gleefully searching out every loose seam and unmended tear in my old clothing.
“I’ll try,” said Maran doubtfully, turning back to the Farseer. I noticed she had to be touching it for it to work. “Show me the view out of the window there.”
I blinked. Berys was gone, and in his place there rose up high, snowcapped mountains, ridge upon ridge stretching away into the distance, the bright sun gleaming full on the white peaks. Away below and to the left was a large placid lake, the far shore lost in a haze. In the center of the lake a small hillock, an island ringed with trees, boasted a high and ancient oak in its centre. That wooden monarch stood tall and leafless yet, only a haze of green about it showing that spring was well under way.