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Topiara - Chapter 28
Unable to sleep, Jilan rolled over where he could look at the silhouette of Lyara, seated in wary contemplation of the remains of their evening fire. She didn't even look like the Lyara he remembered any longer. Farranby had been as good as his word, wielding his dagger with ease to trim her hair shorter even than Jilan's own. Lyara herself had completed the transformation by retiring behind a bush to wrap herself; and when she had returned to join her compan ions, there was very little that reminded him of the grand Kauwlut lady who had been his travel companion not all that long ago. In her place was a small, sinewy and strong lad.
He raised himself up on one elbow and tried to put out of his mind the reservations he was having at the undertaking about to begin, an effort doomed to continual failure. How can she sit there so quietly? he asked himself envious ly. We're all getting ready to commit collective suicide.
Farranby stirred in his sleep on the other side of the fire as if bothered by his dreams. The blanketed mound that was Sharin lay silent to Jilan's right. Jilan was about to lay back down and try once more to get to sleep himself when he saw Lyara run her fingers through her short hair and pull from it the fetish that had been dutifully tied every day, only to finger it nervously. With that, he sat up, drew the blanket over his shoulders against the night chill, and ambled over to join her on her boulder-seat.
Lyara glanced at him quickly and then looked away. "Having trouble sleeping?" was all she asked.
"Lyara, we need to talk," he answered while watching her fingers turn the fetish end to end time after time.
"About what? Tomorrow? Tomorrow will take care of itself." Her voice was calm on the surface, nothing like the turmoil that rolled in her stomach like uneaten food.
"You asked for time," Jilan said quietly, looking now at her face to watch her expressions and finding them hidden in the flickering shadows of the remaining flames. "I've tried to do as you ask. Now we may not have much time left."
Lyara's head drooped slightly. "I know," she answered. She looked sideways at him. "I'm sorry."
He looked down at his hands. "You know, I want to touch you and hold you. I want to know that you will be with me when this is through." He sighed. "Its very hard to stand back and do nothing."
"I'm sorry. Perhaps, if we had had the time in Tandri we needed to sort things through, it might be different."
"No," Jilan shook his head. "It would still be the same, except we wouldn't be looking at tomorrow and worrying about it being our last. And you would still be out of reach." He wished the flames were still bright enough to see more of her face, but was glad that at least in his mind he was speaking to the woman he knew.
"I can't change who I am, Jilan. How can I change what I'm only now learning to know? I can't share what I don't possess." Lyara hunched beneath her cape, as if chilled suddenly, and her words slowed as if stating them was diffi cult. "You're the only person I'd ever want to share with, you know."
"Am I?" Jilan straightened slightly.
Lyara turned to face him, the shadows dancing across her face failing to disguise the open candor. "Knowing that because of me you're walking into a danger that could mean your death makes me feel so afraid for you." She put one hand lightly on his arm for a moment. "As much as I'm glad you're here I almost wish you'd stay safely away. If any thing should happen to you on that island, I don't know what I'd do."
Jilan's hand covered hers gently before she had the chance to pull it away. He knew well what effort it cost her to leave it beneath his. "Do you really think I'd let you go on this mad adventure without me?" He smiled. "Give me more credit than that."
"Maybe, when we ride Fleetwind and Surefoot far from this place, things can begin to be different." Lyara's voice actually sounded vaguely optimistic.
"Optimism, Lyara?" Jilan's face was fading into darkness as what few flames there were died to glowing embers.
"Simple hope," she answered in an even tone.
"Then," Jilan took a breath, hoping his next words wouldn't spoil the mood that had evolved, "I would have a kiss from you, as a promise for the day we ride away from here." Lyara's hand slowly pulled from beneath his. "I won't steal it, or force it from you," he continued, sooth ingly. "If you cannot give it willingly, I'd rather not have it."
"A kiss?"
He waited patiently, his gaze resting on the shadow that was all he could see of her. Lyara stared at the dying reddish embers as if they held her answer. Topiara warmed and gently presented a vision to her of Jilan's face no longer hidden in the dark. Topiara murmured in the depths of her mind. Do not throw away lightly what he offers.
Topiara was right. Lyara turned to Jilan and found his face with her hands, then pressed her lips to his. Jilan's hand found her shoulders and then one cheek, which he tenderly cradled. She didn't flinch at his touch but seemed to lean into his hand a little. This is not Stepan at all, she realized with a jolt, and for a moment found herself enjoying the loose embrace.
When they parted, Lyara was surprised to find herself a little breathless and her heart pounding as if from a fast walk. It had been such a little kiss to affect her so. Her fingers dropped from his face almost reluctantly.
Jilan's hands dropped from her. "Thank you," he whis pered in a shaky voice.
Lyara's was equally uneven. "Thank you."
After a rather subdued breakfast of leftover meat from the evening before, the companions seemed to scatter each to their own direction. Farranby finally found Lyara looking pensively across the water at the island on the horizon. Lyara glanced at him and then back. "We'll wait for dark and get the boat loaded. As soon as it's dark, we'll leave."
"When will you three arrive?"
"The next morning. It'll mean the boat will be moored right at the dock when things are done. We'll leave a few things onboard that will make them want to search her from stem to stern -- that'll mean Vinzen won't have a chance to use her before we need her."
Farranby nodded. "Good thinking, but what will you leave aboard that'll catch their attention?"
Lyara hefted one of her specie pouches. "There's a loose board over the pilot's seat. I'll put this there."
"They'll search you, Sharin and Jilan for more," Far ranby warned.
Lyara nodded. "All the better. They won't find any thing on us that we don't want them to find -- things we would have with us under normal conditions. Specie bags that are practically empty, daggers, Sharin's spice sack, things they would expect from such as we. You will have Jilan's bow and arrows, remember?"
"If they search you, they'll figure out you're a girl."
"I don't think so," Lyara disagreed and turned to him. "Search me the way they would and see if you can tell."
Farranby rebelled at the idea, but Lyara urged him on. "Go ahead, be an outlaw looking for hidden weapons or treasure and be thorough!"
Farranby's face reflected his distaste, but Lyara had to admit that he did an extremely thorough job of searching her from head to toe. Finally he nodded, impressed. "Not bad at all! The only way anybody would be able to tell anything would be for you to remove your tunic."
"And I have no intentions of that!" Lyara turned back to her study of the currents. Her nose twitched. "There's going to be a storm tonight. Rough seas."
Farranby left her to her thoughts and studies. He wanted enough darts ready to defend himself before he set foot on that rickety-looking craft and put his fate into Lyara's and the sea god's hands. That and prepare himself for walking past the rubble that had been his home without breaking into little quivering pieces. It would be return ing to the scene of the nightmare that had haunted his sleep for nearly ten years. Could he walk past the gates of the stronghold and not hear the screams of his little sons... He shook himself and walked with a back stiff from dread.
Lyara waited until she was sure that she would not be observed and then began pulling the camouflage from the boat. She wouldn't have much time to do the reconnaissance she needed, and she didn't need to upset the others by letting them know what she was looking for.
Sharin watched Jilan put the last stitches into the hide that now enfolded his beautiful bow and deadly arrows. She had never seen the pale hare hide worked into a serviceable container quite so quickly before. Jilan used his dagger to cut the long end of the sinew from the bag and turned to her. "Give me that puddle of hare fat I've been saving."
"Ugh!" She handed it to him with a grimace of distaste, for the fat had been sitting in the sun and melted a bit and was beginning to smell. "What do you want that for?"
"Farranby is going to take this with him. I don't want it damaged in the salt water." Jilan ignored the sour smell and plied the seams he had just sewn liberally with the fat. When he was done, he held up the long bundle contentedly. "There now. Ready for anything."
"Where'd you learn to do that?" Sharin admired his work from a reasonable distance.
Jilan looked up at her, noticed her expression and chuckled as he tossed the rag with the remains of the fat off into the bushes behind the camp. "From Lyara," he answered easily, "while we were travelling the Kauwlut Homelands. She's even better at this than I am."
Sharin looked off in the direction Lyara had wandered earlier. "Is she as good as she thinks she is, Jilan? I mean," she came closer as Jilan put aside his bow and turned his attention to her, "do you think we have a chance?"
"I've seen her fight, if that's what you mean. She's good, one of the best I've seen." Jilan's face darkened in remembrance. "I've seen her take on more than some men would challenge and kill them all. I wouldn't want to meet her in a forest at night and be her enemy."
"Then you think we have a chance?" she repeated.
"If we all work together according to the plan we do," Jilan nodded firmly, glad his own insecurity seemed not to be showing. "Farranby's damned deadly with those little blow-darts of his too, you know. And I'm no slouch with the bow and arrow." He smiled thinly at her. "And you're the one who'll make it all easier for us by putting those animals to sleep. You're a fantastic cook, you know. Put the four of us together, and we've a pretty good chance."
Sharin looked off in the direction of the island and shivered. "I'm scared."
"I know. I think we all are." Jilan's calm admission brought her attention back to him, eyes wide. He shrugged. "I don't think there's ever been a soldier who hasn't had a case of nerves before a big battle, Sharin. They write about it in the history books even." He smiled, stood and stretched. The discussion had really made him understand what those old historians had been talking about after all. "I think I'd be more worried if we all weren't scared."
"Great." Sharin's tone told him she wasn't sure at all whether she was comforted by the thought or disturbed by it.
Before she could betray the direction her thoughts went, she had turned and gone back to cleaning the herbs and roots collected the day before.
As the afternoon had aged, the clouds had begun gather ing and a chilled wind blew onshore. The four companions stood together for the last time on the beach, looking out at the island. Jilan looked up at the sky that grew angrier by the moment with real unease. "You sure you want to leave now? It looks like bad weather tonight."
"Good," Lyara said confidently. "How many invasions forces would you expect to try to make a landing in foul weather, huh?" She waited, not really expecting Jilan to answer, then turned to Farranby. "It's going to be a rough ride."
"Let's get on with it," Farranby said with a flat tone. "I never was one for long goodbyes." He offered his hand to Jilan to shake and then turned to Sharin. "Good luck," he said in a softer voice.
Sharin blinked, then stepped forward and hugged him tightly for a moment. Jilan and Lyara exchanged amused glances but said nothing, and Sharin stepped back as quickly as she had forward. Farranby turned, his expression unread able, and began wading into the water toward the boat. Sharin turned with a tiny sigh and walked toward the camp fire.
Lyara and Jilan watched her vanish into the underbrush and then turned to look at each other. Lyara noted Jilan's unhappy expression and was satisfied that her hunch about not sharing part of her plans with him had been correct. He would never have understood.
"You be careful," he started, knowing his warning to be a totally inadequate expression of the fear he felt for her.
"I'll be back by morning," she promised guiltily. "Wait for me."
Jilan seemed to hear something in her words, and he glared at her. "What are you planning, Lyara?" he demanded, fear making his voice sharp.
Lyara couldn't find any words to answer. Instead she followed Sharin's example and reached out and hugged him tightly for a very brief moment. "Trust me," she whispered into his ear, then pushed him away and dashed into the waves without looking back.
"Lyara!"
She didn't turn to look at him until she had hoisted herself into the boat and found her seat at the rudder. Her eyes searched the darkening beach until it found Jilan, and then she raised one hand in farewell. Farranby hoisted the small sail and the boat turned to the open water.
"He didn't look too happy with you," he observed, tying off the line to the sail and moving toward the stern. With the wind of the growing storm, he spoke much louder than normal. He took a seat across the rudder from Lyara.
"I know." she shouted back, and then flinched as the first lash of cold rain whipped her face. "He has an idea I'm not telling him everything." She hauled at the bucking rudder. "He's right."
"What in the name of every underworld are you going to do?" Farranby held onto the rail behind him as the waves began to make the boat yaw and slough from side to side. He couldn't help but admire Lyara's confident posture, strong without need of support with her head slightly forward and the water pouring down her face.
Lyara kept her eyes on the shadow that was the island. With the direction of the wind and the set of the sail, this was going to be a shorter trip than she'd expected. "First things first," she called at him. "We get you there." Her hand rose from the tiller and pointed at the island. "That's all you need to worry about. I'll do the rest."
"Damnation!" Farranby's cursing was blown away in the storm.
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