Chains of Gold Read Online Free

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    â€œYou do me great honor, lady,” he said softly. “But—the one thing goes with the other.”
    â€œI know.”
    â€œIt would be only the once, a single hour in the afternoon, and then—the bond is for life; the goddess sees to that.”
    â€œI know.”
    â€œI will find you boots, clothing, gold,” he said. “Go, flee, save yourself.”
    â€œLeave you to face it alone?” I cried, with a passion that startled me. “But they will punish you!”
    He threw back his marvelous head and laughed, a wild, ringing sound. “What can they do to me that they have not already planned?” he cried gaily.
    â€œBoth of you go,” said Lonn, his tone vehement, and Arlen quieted.
    â€œI have said that I will not be dishonored.” He spoke softly, and his gaze was on me, softly. “No one will call me coward. But it is hard.…”
    â€œAt once. Go.” Lonn stepped into the stall, took the blood-red Bayard by its tether, and brought it around. For the first time I looked at the steed rather than at the winterking, and a tingling shock went through me; the animal was alive with loveliness in the same odd way that Arlen was, every hair of its mane tossing on its crest, its eyes deep and feral and gold-flecked, fiery dapplings shimmering on its flanks. I wondered if magic had somehow touched me as well, if in a polished shield I could have seen it.
    Arlen looked at me, at the horse. He shook his head, his hair leaping like sunflame. “I must stay,” he said, and though the pitch of his voice was low I knew there would be no disputing with him. Lonn must have known it as well, for he turned to me.
    â€œLady Cerilla,” he urged, “mount the steed. It will carry you across the water. After that, ride where you will.”
    I looked only at Arlen then, not at the horse. He answered my look without speaking.
    â€œLady,” Lonn begged.
    â€œI will stay,” I said.
    He fell to his knees before me.
    â€œIf you are his friend,” I flared, “do not beseech me to go from him. I will stay to offer him what comfort I can. Before he dies.”
    Lonn stared up at me, and I glared back at him, and hope died in his eyes. “I have been his friend since we were babes,” he muttered at last, and he got up and led the horse away.
    â€œYour feet,” Arlen said to me. “They are as blue as river pearls.”
    He gathered me up in his arms to spare me from walking any farther in the snow. Out into the dark and cold and snow and wind we went, his cloak and my blanket flapping about me, Lonn following us across the wide weed-grown courtyard with the lantern, his head bowed against the wind. But Arlen strode through the storm as if he had been born to it. Hold of the goddess bulked dimly before us, half ruinous, parapets showing jaggedly, like broken teeth, against the sky. We found a narrow entry. A dark passage led steeply downward from it, as if into the fundament of the fortress. Lonn unshielded his lantern, and after a moment we came out into a warm and cavernous room.
    It was the kitchen, the great womb of the castle, deserted at this time of night. Arlen carried me across it and set me down on the immense hearth. Embers still glowed in the blackness of the gaping fireplace, and the brick of the hearth had retained the heat of the day’s flames; I felt myself smiling because of the warmth. Arlen settled himself by me and rubbed my feet with his hands, his touch as warm as the hearth. Lonn stood his lantern on the table and found three earthenware cups, filled them with perry aand spices, and set the poker in the embers to heat for mulling them. Then silently he sat down on the floor by Arlen and me.
    We talked of inconsequential things: the perry, and had it been a favorable season for fruits and liquors? The snow, and would it turn into a veritable winter storm? The talk, however trivial, seemed honey sweet.