The Lady of Han-Gilen Read Online Free Page A

even the postern gate
was guarded. Elian crouched in shadow, watching the lone armed man. From where
he stood with a cresset over his head, he commanded the gate and a goodly
portion of the approach to it, and the hidden entrance to the bolthole.
    Despite the obscurity of his post, he was zealous. He kept
himself alert, pacing up and down in the circle of light, rattling his sword in
its scabbard.
    Elian caught her lower lip between her teeth. What she had
to do was forbidden. More than forbidden. Banned.
    So was all she did on this mad night.
    She drew a cautious breath. The man did not hear. Carefully
she cleared her mind of all but the need to pass the gate. More carefully
still, she lowered her inner shields one by one. Not so much as to lie open to
any power that passed; but not so little as to bind her strength within,
enclosed and useless.
    Thoughts murmured on the edge of consciousness, a babel of
minds, indistinguishable. But one was close, brighter than the rest.
    Little by little she enfolded it. Rest, she willed it. Rest
and see. No one will pass. All is quiet; all remains so. All danger sleeps.
    The man paused in his pacing, hand on hilt, immobile beneath
the torch. His eyes scanned the circle of its light.
    They saw nothing. Not even the figure that left the shadows
and passed him, walking softly but without stealth. Shadow took it; his mind,
freed, held no memory of captivity.
    oOo
    At the end of darkness lay starlight and free air. But a
shape barred the way.
    So near to escape, and yet so far. Elian’s teeth bared; she
snatched her dagger.
    Long strong fingers closed around her wrist, forcing the
weapon back to its sheath. “Sister,” said Halenan, “there’s no need to murder
me.”
    Fight him though she would, he was stronger; and he had had
the same teachers as she. At length she was still.
    He let her go. She made no attempt to bolt. Her eyes caught
his, held.
    He would weaken. He would let her pass. He would—
    She cried out in pain.
    His voice was soft in the gloom. “You forget, Lia.
Mind-tricks succeed only with the mind-blind. Which I am not.”
    “I won’t go back,” she said, low and harsh.
    He drew her out of the tunnel into the starlight. Brightmoon
had risen; though waning, it was bright enough for such eyes as theirs. He ran
a hand over her cropped hair. “So. This time you mean it. Did the Asanian repel
you as strongly as that?”
    “No. He drew me.” Her teeth rattled; she clenched her jaw.
“I won’t go back, Hal. I can’t.”
    He lifted a brow. She pressed on before he could begin anew
the old battle. “Mirain is riding southward. I’ll catch him before he enters
the Hundred Realms. If he means us ill, I’ll stop him. I won’t let him bring
war on our people.”
    “What makes you think you can sway him?”
    “What makes you think I can’t?”
    He paused, drew a sharp breath, let it go. “Mother will be
more than displeased with you. Father will grieve. Prince Ilarios—”
    “Prince Ilarios will press for the alliance, because he
stands in dire need of it. Let me go, Hal.”
    “I’m not holding you.”
    He stepped aside. Beyond him a shadow stirred, moving into
the moonlight. Warm breath caressed Elian’s cheek; her own red mare whickered
in her ear.
    She was bridled, saddled. On the saddle Elian found a
familiar shape: bow and laden quiver.
    Tears pricked. Fiercely she blinked them away. Halenan stood
waiting; she thought of battering him down.
    For knowing, damn him. For helping her. She flung her arms around
him.
    “Give Mirain my greetings,” he said, not as lightly as he
would perhaps have liked. “And tell him—” His voice roughened. “Tell the damned
fool that if he sets foot in my lands, it had better be as a friend; or god’s
son though he be, I’ll have his head on my spear.”
    “I’ll tell him,” she said.
    “Do that.” He laced his fingers; she set her foot in them
and vaulted lightly into the saddle. Even as she gathered the reins,