Читать книгу Lord of Legends - Susan Krinard - Страница 11

ASH SMELLED THE man before he walked into the room, his hand near his hip and the glitter of iron at his waist. He was dark-haired and brown-eyed, lean and well formed, and he wore a shirt, trousers and the overgarment that Ash remembered was called a “jacket.”

He smelled almost exactly the same as the enemy who had put Ash in this place.

Mariah blocked the stranger’s path, but he clearly saw Ash. His eyes widened in astonishment.

“My God,” he said. “My God.” He stumbled into the wall, breathing heavily, and continued to stare.

Ash flung himself at the bars, and the stranger jerked away. Mariah approached the cage, hand raised, the slim, straight lines of her brows drawn over her eyes.

“Ash? Are you all right?”

He didn’t know how to answer. “All right” meant feeling well, and he didn’t feel well. Mariah had been away too long. He was furious at the presence of the second human, who intruded with his Cold Iron and his thick male scent that was so much like Donnington’s. If there had been a way out of the cage, Ash would have charged him, knocked him down, impaled.

“Who is he?” he repeated.

“My name is Sinjin Ware,” the man said hoarsely, pushing away from the wall. “Who in hell are you?”

“I call him Ash,” Mariah said. “Please, Sinjin, stand back.” She turned to Ash again. “Mr. Ware has come to help us. There is no reason to be afraid of him.”

Ash laughed, drawing a startled expression from both humans. “Ware,” he snarled. “Donnington.”

The man exchanged glances with Mariah. “My God,” he repeated. “Did you tell him who I—”

“Do you still think he’s a poacher, Sinjin?” Mariah said before he could finish.

“No. I had … no idea.”

Ash banged at the bars with his fist. “He did this.”

Sinjin drew his hand over the fringe of dark hair above his lip. “Believe me, Mariah. I had nothing to do with—”

“You are his,” Ash said, no longer caring if his flesh touched iron. “His.”

The human male looked ill. “What is he saying, Mariah?”

She took his arm. “We shall return soon, Ash,” she said. She led the man she called Sinjin from the room and half closed the door. Ash realized at once that she did not want him to hear what they said to each other.

“We must be careful, Sinjin,” she said in a low voice that Ash easily heard. “Ash is very—”

“What the hell is going on?” Sinjin demanded.

“I told you that Ash blames Donnington. He hates him. Somehow he’s realized that you are related to him.”

“How? Giles and I look nothing alike!”

“As I said at Rothwell, I am convinced that Ash has no idea how much he looks like Donnington. And I never mentioned you. I certainly never told him that you are Donnington’s brother.”

“Does he know Donnington’s your husband?”

“No. And it is too soon to tell him.”

“You’re afraid of him. You do think he’s mad.”

She didn’t answer. Ash pressed as close to the bars as he could without touching them.

“Think carefully,” Mariah said at last. “Who in your family might resemble your brother?”

“You aren’t suggesting—”

“Who, Sinjin?”

“No one!”

“No one that you know of.”

“Don’t you think I would be aware … Do you actually think this man is here because of my brother?”

“I don’t know what to believe. Please stay here, Sinjin.”

A moment later she returned to the inner chamber, fetched the bag she had brought with her and opened it, producing another loaf of bread, small red fruits, a white stone-like container and another shaped of clear crystal.

“Bread, strawberries, butter and jam,” she said, smiling at Ash. She sat in the chair, spread a cloth across her heavy skirt and removed two pieces of the bread from its wrapping. She coated them with the yellow substance in the stone container and the thick, sweet-smelling fruit from the crystal.

Ash could see Ware peering through the crack in the door. Donnington’s brother, though Ash didn’t know what that word might mean. He only knew it was important. As was husband, though he refused to consider why it hurt so much to think of Mariah bearing a connection to his enemy.

And Mariah had said he looked like Donnington. Ash had not seen Donnington when he had gazed at his own face in the water, yet something in him knew it was true.

The thoughts flying through his head made his hunger go away, but he knew he must remain strong. He took the bread through the bars, and then Mariah left the room again.

“You speak to him as if he doesn’t know what bread and jam are,” Ware whispered. “And he’s only half-dressed.”

“He was left with almost nothing,” she said. “Nothing to eat, nothing to wear.”

“You brought him those clothes?”

“Of course. What else was I to do?”

“You said you saw another stranger by the folly. This man hasn’t been completely neglected. Someone must come here to feed him, clean his …” He paused. “What did your maid say?”

“Nola said there was a strange man living in a cottage on the grounds, and no one knows what he does. Ash implied that someone comes to him every few days. Someone who doesn’t want anyone else to know that Ash is here.”

Sinjin made a harsh, angry sound. “This is a highly volatile situation, Mariah,” he said. “Obviously this man has suffered, but as for his identity or Donnington’s … involvement, we’ll have to give this very careful thought. Acting too quickly can only—”

Mariah strode back into Ash’s room, Ware on her heels. He caught at Mariah’s arm. “Mariah, listen to me. We—”

The bars rattled as Ash banged against them. Fire coursed over his skin.

“Don’t touch her,” he commanded. “Don’t touch her!”

Both humans started. “He is a lunatic,” Ware said.

Mariah shook him off. “He’s nothing of the kind.” She moved as close to Ash as she could without touching the bars. “Don’t, Ash. Please.”

The fire licked at Ash’s forehead. “Stay away from him.”

“Sinjin won’t hurt me, Ash. I promise you, he’s our friend.”

“Merry, this man is obviously disturbed,” Ware said. “Don’t promise him anything. Not until we know what he’s done.”

“Done?” She whirled to face him. “What could he have done to deserve this?”

“We need to keep our wits about us. You must see that.”

“Yes. We must all keep our wits about us.” She smiled at Ash, though her lips trembled. “Try to be patient, Ash. We both want to help, to find out why you’re here so we can let you go.”

“Merry …” Sinjin warned.

But she wasn’t listening to him. “Have you remembered anything new, Ash?” she asked. “Anything you can tell us?”

To offer her the truth would be to admit too much. That he was not human. That there was some other world ruled by those who were not human. That he had possessed another life, another form far mightier than this one. No, he could not offer her the truth.

For she had not given him the truth.

“No,” he said.

“We’ll find a way, Ash.”

“Which will require considerable finesse,” Ware said. “And you will leave the investigation to me, Mariah.”

“First we must find Ash’s keeper.”

“I’ll look into it as soon as it’s light enough to search,” Ware said. “You go back to the house, Merry. Pretend that nothing has happened.”

She flashed another glance at Ash and pushed Sinjin out of the room again. “Suppose Donnington does know about this?” she said. “Might Vivian not know, as well?”

“Mother? You’re joking.”

“Perhaps. But, as you said, we can make no judgments as yet. I’ll learn what I can in the house. You find this keeper. And you must discover how Ash is related to your family.”

“If he is—”

“No judgments, Sinjin.”

“I’ll do just as you say. But, Merry … Don’t say anything to my mother. Not under any circumstances. She would be worse than shocked if she saw him.”

“This can’t be kept hidden for long.”

“Go back to the house. I’ll stay with him until dawn.”

“That would not be wise.”

“I’m not leaving you alone with him. He’s shown a propensity for violence.”

“Can you blame him?”

“Hasn’t it occurred to you that you simply haven’t been questioning him the right away?”

“What do you propose? Torture?”

“I’m beginning to wonder, given his startling resemblance to Donnington, if your desire to help isn’t some sort of obsession.”

“It ought to be every bit as much of an obsession with you, Sinjin! This man could be your direct relation.”

There was a long moment of silence. “I was right, wasn’t I? This isn’t just natural concern on your part.”

“Do you believe that compassion isn’t sufficient reason to help someone?”

“I mean the way you look at him, speak to him—”

“We shouldn’t leave Ash alone,” she said. The door swung open again, and Mariah walked straight over to the bars.

“I’m sorry, Ash,” she said. “Mr. Ware and I—”

“Release me.”

She stared at him, her lips slightly parted. Ware walked up behind her, examining Ash through narrowed eyes.

“A gentleman, is he?” Ware said. “He does speak rather like a duke I once knew. Truly, Merry, you must realize that this man may not be sane, let alone capable of or willing to speak the truth. We—”

There was scarcely room between the bars for Ash’s hand, let alone his arm, but he struck at once. His flesh screamed in pain as his fingers clutched the collar of Ware’s jacket and jerked the man against the bars.

“Truth?” he snarled. “What do humans know of truth?”

The silence became frozen. Ware breathed sharply through his nose. Mariah, who had grabbed Ash’s wrist, went very still.

“Humans?” she whispered.

Ash released the other man and pulled his arm back, holding it against his chest. “Men,” he said. “Men like Donnington.”

“Can you fail to doubt his sanity now?” Ware asked, straightening his clothing with sharp, angry motions.

“Considering your own behavior …” Mariah frowned into Ash’s face, then glanced at his arm. Already the marks were fading. “Ash knows the meaning of truth. Would anyone not of sound mind understand such a concept?”

“Who knows what a lunatic might or might not understand?”

Mariah glared at him. “Do you know how to open this lock?”

“You aren’t seriously thinking of letting him out?”

“Can you break it?”

“I won’t. He’s dangerous, Mariah. He’s also strong, however badly he’s been treated. I can defend myself, but you can’t.”

“He would never hurt me.”

“How long have you known him? Two days?” Sinjin snorted. “No. I won’t do it.”

She turned back to Ash. “I’m sorry, Ash. You must wait a little while longer. A day, at most.”

“I told you not to promise him anything,” Ware said, his face darker than it had been before. “I’ve got to find that keeper first.”

They looked at each in a way Ash could hardly bear. “Very well,” Mariah said. “Ash, we shall both be leaving now. But it will only be for a little while.”

He wanted to wail and beat his fists against the walls of his cage, to rage and roar and attack the bars again and again. But he merely withdrew into the shadows where their light boxes’ feeble illumination couldn’t reach. He watched as Mariah and Ware spoke quietly, and then, after touching Mariah’s hand, the other man left the room.

A dozen heartbeats later Mariah was at the bars again. “Ash,” she whispered, “I have an idea, but I must make sure the coast is clear first.”

He remained where he was while she followed Ware, listening to her feet in their small tight shoes tap against the stone. When she returned, her face was flushed, and her movements were as quick and darting as those of a bird.

“I am going to get you out,” she said. “Tonight, whatever Sinjin may say.”

Ash knew then that he had won the battle. “How?” he asked.

“I shall find a way to break this lock.”

“Why?”

She had never looked at him so directly or so clearly. “Because I see how it will be. I thought I needed Sinjin’s help. I still do. But he won’t soon agree to let you go, after what you … after how you behaved.”

It was a reprimand. He did not like it. “What is he?”

“Sinjin? I meant to tell you—”

“Donnington’s brother,” he said. “What does it mean?”

She searched his eyes, her face almost white. “You heard us, didn’t you?”

“What does it mean?”

“Brothers are family. They have the same mother and father.”

“Mother is the female who bore you?”

“My mother, yes. As their mother bore them.”

“What is family?”

The delicate skin over her throat trembled. “A mother and father and children—brothers and sisters—make a family.”

The food in Ash’s stomach would not remain still. “I am Ware’s family? And Donnington’s?”

“We … we don’t know, Ash.”

“I look like Donnington.”

“You don’t … you are different. It isn’t as if—”

Ash laughed. “I am my enemy.”

“No. No, Ash. There is so much we have yet to learn. You must give us time.”

Time meant waiting. Time meant this room, this cage. He tried to think of something else.

“What is Ware to you?” he asked.

“He is a friend.”

She had called herself Ash’s “friend.” But it wasn’t the same. He knew it was not.

“He does not believe that Donnington did this to me.”

“Whatever Donnington may have done, Sinjin knew nothing about it. You must remember that.”

Ash looked from the tops of the bars to the point where they sank into the ground. “What is husband?”

“Ash—”

“Tell me.”

“A … a husband is like a father. A husband … lives with his wife.”

“Donnington is your husband and you are Donnington’s wife.”

As Ash had been before, so she was now: mute, voiceless.

Why had she not spoken the truth earlier, when she’d had the chance? She could not be afraid of Ash, or she would never have returned. But she was afraid.

“He kept you like this?” Ash said, his hatred doubling.

“Like.” Her hand swept to the base of her neck, where the heavy cloth covered her flesh. “No, Ash.”

“You escaped,” Ash said. “You found me.”

“I.” Her face was beaded with tiny drops of moisture. “Ash, I am not living with him now, but he did not keep me in a cage.”

“Then why were you his wife?”

“Because … because I didn’t know what he’d done to you.”

There was something hidden in her eyes and voice, but he could not make sense of it. Fury boiled under his skin. “Where is he?”

“Away. I don’t know where. But he will return. That is why, when we leave this place, you must remain hidden.”

“I will not hide.”

“Only for a while. But you cannot stay in this cage for one more hour.”

A promise, like the others she had made—and kept. Yet when she left, Ash could not forget that she had not told him about Donnington. Her husband. His enemy.

He paced along the front of the cage, striking the bars each time he reached the end and turned for another pass. The pain became a part of him, keeping his anger strong. His heartbeat slowed to match the steady rhythm.

And then they came.

Memories. Not like the others, fragmented and seen through the prism of a dream, but solid and bright and real.

He lay in the shadow of great gray stones cupped in a circle of trees, his mind a voiceless sphere spinning inside his head. Two others stood near him: one was Donnington—like Ash, save for the darkness of his hair.

The other was Fane. While the human was not unimpressive, the Fane would draw all eyes to him wherever he appeared. His body was lithe and slender, his features finely drawn, his hair a richer nut-brown than anything that could be conceived on earth. His eyes were silver shaded with green, his clothes woven of light and thread so fine it could hardly be seen. He gazed at Donnington with contempt, everything about him speaking of power and arrogance.

“I kept my part of the bargain,” Donnington was saying. He gestured to the girl lying at his feet. “I brought her, as you asked. Where is my unicorn?”

The Fane slowly turned his head. Cold eyes surveyed Ash where he lay. “There,” he said.

“This man?” Donnington started toward the Fane lord, who moved not a muscle, and then stopped to stare at Ash. “He looks exactly like me!”

Cairbre—for that was the Fane lord’s name—smiled a little. “An odd effect of the transfer. You were the first human he saw when he passed through the Gate, so his body shaped itself in your image.”

Donnington shuddered. “He wasn’t supposed to be human!”

“He was cursed to assume human form in your world, but I expected this to be a temporary condition.”

“You’re saying it isn’t?”

“Oberon is still powerful. He will not be so for long.”

The human scowled. “Can it … can it understand us?”

“It has not yet learned human speech.” The Fane lord stared at the human until Donnington dropped his gaze. “You have said that you kept your part of the bargain, but you have not fully succeeded, either. The girl is resisting my power. I cannot bring her through the Gate.”

“Because you’re nothing but a ghost.”

“It has nothing to do with Oberon’s restrictions on our appearance in your world,” Cairbre said coldly.