Epilogue
Wyl sensed the regret in Liryk, who joined the four-man escort that would see him to the border of Briavelone man always riding behind, a crossbow trained on Koreldy’s back. All knew the weapon was not necessary; still, they were taking no chances.
He had been given no further opportunity for discussion with Fynch or indeed anyone at the palace, save Stewyt, who had packed a sack of gear Wyl could claim as his. The horse he rode was his to keep, especially chosen by her majesty, he was toldher final act of kindness to him. It was a tan mare. He had admired her in the stables oncethat occasion felt like a lifetime ago. But Valentyna had not forgotten. He wished he could read more into the gesture but remembering her wintry gaze, he knew they were no longer even friends. Her generosity was simply payment for his service. Now she wanted him gone from her realm. The saddlebags, he noticed, were well stocked with food and supplies. His weapons were in the care of Liryk, strapped to the older man’s horse, until such time the Commander decreed it appropriate to return them to the disgraced prisoner.
As for the Queen, after pronouncing sentence she had departed the hall without so much as looking toward him again. She had made it clear that Briavel had washed its hands of him.
He rode in a bleak silence, ignoring his fellow riders, dark thoughts his only company. It was early evening when they set out with little intention of reaching any great distance before night closed inat best Crowyll perhaps, ten miles from Werryl. It was important to Valentyna that he be removed from the palace immediately. In truth Wyl felt as though he no longer cared about anything. It even occurred to him that should the soldier behind accidentally fire that crossbow it might be a welcome end to his intense grief. The only thought that encouraged him to stay alive right now was Ylena’s safety and the need to make amends to Fynch.
He came out of swirling thoughts. The other riders had dropped back, he noticed absently, leaving only Liryk to ride alongside him.
“I did not kill him.” Wyl said into the silence. “The deed was done by a thug called Arkoland he was sent by Celimus.”
The soldier knew immediately to what he referred. “But you cannot prove it,” Liryk replied, “that’s our dilemma.”
“Yet you would believe the Morgravian King?”
“I have no choice publicly. But for what it’s worth, Koreldy, I don’t want to believe you murdered King Valor and just for your peace of mindif there is such a thingneither does our Queen.”
“Then why”
The older man interjected. “But what you did on that tourney field today completely overstepped your familiarity with Briavel. It was tantamount to war between our realms. And if we did not punish you for such an affront to the visiting monarch we would risk his personal wrath towards her majesty. Don’t you understand, man! We are not equipped to fight another war so soon with Morgravia. We are treading the narrowest of paths here along a precipice and should we trip we could fall into the darkest of times.”
Wyl knew Liryk to be right. He had known the consequences before he had even stepped onto the tourney field with the intention to do malice. And he suspected Valentyna’s demand for his promises indicated that she never quite trusted that he would not take a chance to hurt the Morgravian King.
“Why could she not say she knows me to be innocent?” There was a plaintiveness in his voice.
“Because she still isn’t sure you didn’t kill Thirsk in cold blood…and frankly neither am I! Whatever Thirsk was, he was honorable by all accountsas was his father, whom I personally knew. Enemy or not, murder is not the Briavellian way and Thirsk came here in peace.”
The sense of being trapped was complete. Briavel was banishing him on behalf of Wyl Thirsk. If only they knew.
“But these days murder is the Morgravian way and you and your Queen are going to have to learn very quickly to fight fire with fire… or you are lost,” Wyl warned, angrily.
“Let us worry about that. You are fortunate to have escaped with your life, Koreldy. The King calls for your blood.”
“I care nothing for his threats. All I know-is he has corrupted Queen Valentyna’s mind. Tell her that from me. Beg her not to trust him. Not to agree to marry him.”
“You know I won’t. You understand that I support this marriage to achieve peace.”
“You are being duped! Celimus wants Briavel, not peace. He will plunge you straight into war with Cailech.”
“How can you know this?”
“Because I know him so much better than you think.” Wyl said, exasperated. “He will many her and he will treat her with contempt. He will destroy her… and Briavel.”
“Stop, Koreldy! I’ll hear no more of this. We’re approaching Crowyll and this is where we’ll spend the night. You’d do well to appreciate your final evening in a comfortable bed. After this it will be grass for your mattress until we reach the border.”
Wyl said nothing, his frustration overwhelming.
“Any preference for an inn?” Liryk asked, friendly again.
His gripe was not with Liryk, who was a good man. “How about the Forbidden Fruit?” Wyl suggested facetiously, remembering the woman Hildyth.
“Aha, so you were paying attention.” the old soldier replied, surprising him. “Yes, why not? I’m sure we can afford the banished man one last glimpse of the good life.” He laughed. “Incidentally, in which direction are we headed tomorrow?”
“Morgravia, where else?” Wyl said, his voice hard.
Liryk reminded Wyl that he would be guarded.
“Don’t worry, I won’t try anything.”
Liryk nodded. “Good. Don’t, for your own sake. My men are on orders to kill should you attempt to escape and it would not please me to see you as a corpse when we’re going to so much trouble to keep you alive.”
“Are we all staying here?”
“There are normal rooms for rent so yes, but not all will be partaking of the specialties on offer. However, you may feel free, my friend. It is a farewell gift from me, shall we say. I hope you enjoy it.”
Wyl mustered the suggestion of a grin for the older man. Liryk was hard not to like. “And you?”
“Not tonight, son,” he replied, his glance flicking behind Wyl. “Ah, there she is. I trust you won’t pass her up a second time, Koreldy?”
Wyl turned, knowing it would be Hildyth approaching. He was right. She looked frankly surprised to see himhe could not read what her confused expression meant. Still, he gave no further thought to it, focusing somewhat helplessly despite his mood on how very desirable she looked in a ruched gown of white voile. It was transparent, yet cunning folds of the fabric clung perfectly to the areas of her body which she chose to conceal and tantalize the customers with. Her hair, cut bluntly shorter than any other woman he knew, struck him as unusual again and yet it suited her, framing her square face above very broad and angular shoulders, which were bared.
She smiled and once again he was reminded of a catbut this time one that had swallowed the pet bird. There was something knowing in those green eyes and he noticed any confusion he might have sensed in her moments before had vanished. She was entirely in control of herself again.
“Romen Koreldy,” she said, effecting a graceful and altogether feminine bow.
“You remember,” Wyl replied, impressed.
“I would never forget a face like yours,” she crooned. “And Commander Liryk, it’s good to see you again, sir.” She returned her gaze to Wyl. “I knew I could trust you,” she said.
“Trust me to do what?” Neither his body’s response to her flirtations nor Romen’s easy grin failed him.
“To return. You said you would.”
He nodded. “That I did. madam.”
“And I hope you will choose me to give you some relaxation this evening?” she enquired.
“Well. I gather from what you say that I made a promise?”
“Not in so many words.” she admitted, “but I took it as such.”
“Then let us proceed,” Wyl said, desire sparking through him, swimming strongly against his mood.
“Gentlemen.” she said, bowing to Liryk and the one other senior officer who had accompanied them into the building. She offered her hand to Wyl.
“I’ll see you in a few hours. Koreldy.” Liryk said and winked. “Remember what we discussed,” he added.
Wyl already knew he was a man who needed to love a woman to enjoy sexual intimacy. He remembered his night with Arlyn in Orkyld as a blessed physical release, made richer by her affection. But it was Valentyna who had made him realize that when love came together with desire, it was the most potent of confections. Only with Valentyna had he experienced this viciously addictive cocktail. Wyl knew he would not recover from the potion. It coursed through his veins and would continue to poison his thoughts and his dreams.
Valentyna! he silently cried as Hildyth led him away.
It had taken every ounce of his will to control his ardor for Queen Valentyna when they had lain together in her bed the night before. On the surface he regretted it now, wishing they had enjoyed each other fully. It was he alone who had stopped them from consummating their love. It was right but it was also unjust, considering the next man she would probably lie with might well be his enemy. Yet now as he walked down the softly scented, low-lit corridors of the Forbidden Fruit, he knew she would only have hated him more if they had shared such an intimacy. As it was he could never expect her to look upon himif she ever did againwith anything resembling affection.
Hildyth had none of Valentyna’s raw beauty but there was definitely something about her Wyl wanted to possess, if just for a few hours. He would use and enjoy her hard, taut body and release all of his tightly held aggression. And then he would leave.
No love shared. Just lust and payment.
Hildyth led him into a chamber where a narrow, low shelf ran the length of the walls. Upon this shelf fragrant candles burned, scenting the room with honey and jasmine. A splash pool of heated water awaited where heady vapors of refreshing mint and citrus mingled with the other scents to create a sensuous atmosphere of well-being. Nearby a table held wine and sweetmeats for their indulgence. The smoothing bench was against the far wall.
“What would you prefer me to call you?” she asked, cat eyes shining.
“Romen will be fine.”
“Come. Romen. let me undress you.”
But first she reached behind herself and flicked the clasp that undid her gown. It fell to the floor, lightweight and wispy, leaving her naked. She stepped unhurriedly from her garment, ensuring that his gaze could roam her body. He had been right; she was contoured by muscle, which did nothing to detract from what he realized was a neat yet wholly voluptuous figure. Her breasts were not large but they were full, curving toward dark, erect nipples.
She turned to pick up her gown. It was a deliberate move so he could admire her round, rather lovely bottom. It occurred to him that she possessed the shape of a beautiful musical instrument. The thought was gone as she turned back to him, the dark downy triangle between her strong thighs arresting his gaze. It was there that he hoped to find solace and relief.
“I hope I was the right choice?” she said, half-smiling at where his look rested.
“Indeed. I chose well.” he replied in Romen’s sardonic way and began to pull off his clothes.
“Allow me.” she said.
It was a slow and sensuous experience being undressed by this intriguing woman. She lingered on certain areas of his body as she unburdened them from their coverings. Wyl felt himself trembling in anticipation and surprised himself by not feeling self-conscious when she removed his breeches and his hard desire for her was revealed.
She looked up from her knees, the half-smile there again. He knew she thought about giving him the much-needed release right then but she decided against it. straightening back to her full height but making sure his naked skin now touched hers, sending a fresh shiver through his body.
Hildyth gestured that he should step into the pool and as he did so. she poured wine for him. She joined him in the water, handing him a goblet and seating herself on the ledge in the pool so he could lean back between her legs as she soaped his upper body. Wyl began to relax as the rhythmic movement of her sudsy fingers played over him. It was a treat to be washed in this manner. She lathered his hair and he drained his goblet of the excellent Kurshor from Briavel’s sun-drenched coastal valley, felt its fiery warmth hit the spot as her strong hands massaged his scalp.
As she rinsed his hair, she encouraged him to caress her, and then she suggested he allow her to dry him. Wyl was reluctant to leave the pool, loath to interrupt this pleasure and the state of mind that had permitted him to put aside his angry thoughts, numb his cares for the last hour.
“Let me give you a smoothing as you have never had before, Romen,” she muttered in a low voice.
He nodded, allowed her to dry his body with warmed linens. Their gentle roughness against his skin revived his desire again as she dried his legs and buttocks. He realized their time together so far had been mostly silent. She was not curious to know anything more about him, which he found agreeable, and he appreciated that she did not babble, like so many of the brothel girls. Hildyth was comfortable in his silence but not once did he feel she was going about her business with him in a detached manner. If anything he felt a bond with heras though they were kindred spirits in this comfortable place void of idle words.
She smiled and pointed toward the smoothing bench and he obliged, lying belly down, his face turned away from her.
“On your back, please.” she said in a soft voice and he obliged. This was an unusual position to begin the smoothing but he was past caring about details. “I have a warmed pouch of barley I am going to lay across your eyes. It will feel good and help you to relax.” she explained.
Wyl nodded. He was familiar with this practice and sighed gently as she laid the perfectly weighted, warmed pouch on his face. He heard her opening the cupboard, and then gentle clink of small glass bottles.
Again the voice soft. “Would oil of lavender be to your liking, Romen?”
“Yes.” he murmured, knowing it was dangerous, for it would remind him of Valentyna and the evening they had kissed, the evening their love had first taken flight.
As he listened to her rubbing the oil between her hands he imagined feeling her thighs around him. After the smoothing she would lead him into the adjoining chambera bedroomwhere they would complete this ritual and she would pleasure him in any way he chose. He desired nothing more complicated than the feel of a woman holding him as he moved inside her. Lost in his lust-filled thoughts, he reached his cupped hands behind, laid his head on them and sighed.
It stretched his body into the perfect position.
He felt her single warm palm touch his chest, not registering that it did not seem quite as oily as it should, and in truth he would later recall that he did not feel the cold tip of the blade when it first entered between his ribs in that sharp upward punching manner. He did. however, jerk and flail almost immediately as it ascended on its killing journey. The barley pouch was flung off his eyes as the blade expertly and swiftly hit its mark, his heartpuncturing it fatally.
Wyl was strong but Hildyth was surprisingly strong too and she leaned her full weight against his prone, already weakening, dying body and looked deep into Romen’s wide, fear-filled silvery gray eyes.
“Hush, Romen. It is finally done,” she cooed, demonically stroking his rapidly failing erection as he listened to her gentle words. “Let go now. Die quietly and bravely. The King of Morgravia bids you Shar’s speed.”
The struggling had stopped, voice had left him, death was claiming him and he felt her kiss his lips as she pushed the knife harder and higher, severing tissue to be sure that Jessom’s contract was fulfilled.
They were locked in a lovers’ silent embrace nowalbeit a bloody oneas Wyl, dying, suddenly felt a terrifyingly familiar feeling. The surging sensation took over as his closed lids, accepting of death, suddenly flew open to reveal two ill-matched and alarmingly different eyes.
Hildyth, as Romen had, stared at him in shock. The convulsive pain was in her too and she had no idea what was happening. She straightened, taking a deep, agonizing breath. Wyl did know what was occurring, although he could barely believe it himself…and he hated it.
They both shared death but only one took life. Wyl felt his soul lifting, wrenching free. All that was him and Romen was torn from their body as he glimpsed the dark, angry soul of Hildyth crossing over in terror into the body of Romen Koreldy, where it died.
Wyl staggered back in Hildyth’s body now, dry-retching and groaning. Tears streamed down his cheeks in disbelief.
Again! It has happened again!
He lay his burning face against the cold marble of the floor and sobbed… deep, dry heartwrenching sobs of intense grief as he curled himself into a small shape and released his pain.
Later, when he could finally bring himself to, he looked over at the body of Romen Koreldy…him. His latest corpse. And then he looked down at himself, frightened and disoriented in the naked body of Hildyth the whore.
No…not Hildyth, he realized.
My name is Faryl and I am an assassin.
He retched again.
Finally. Wyl composed himself. He had to think and quickly. How long have I been in here with her? He looked at the candles. Possibly two hours so far. Liryk would most likely give him up to four hours for this treat but perhaps only three. He looked at his handshis female hands covered with Romen’s bloodand without thinking further jumped into the pool to cleanse himself of death.
He toweled himself and then struggled back into Hildyth’s gown, damp and frantic. His fingers could not work the clasp that she had so easily worked minutes earlier. He fumbled and swore quietly, his shock still so acute he had to stop at one point and take a slow steadying breath.
It took him several clumsy minutes to finally be hooked into her gown and only then did he find the courage to face Romen’s body. It looked sad and wretched, a vague look of surprise its final expression.
He made his plan. It was thin, as usual, but it was all he had.
Using Faryl’s knowledge he removed the wedged blade from Romen’s body and then, sickening though it was, sliced through the corpse’s ring finger and, wincing, pushed the blade back into the wound in the chest.
He wrapped Romen’s finger in a small piece of linen and hid it behind one of the largest candles, taking care to remember its precise location among the others. Then he threw the wine carafe onto the floor, ensuring the golden liquid spilled at the doorway and then wrenched open the door into the main corridor and began to scream. He was amazed at the high female sound that came out, but he used it to full effect, for people came running from all ends of the brothel and with them ran Commander Liryk, whom Wyl deliberately threw his woman’s body against.
“He’s dead…murdered!” Wyl cried.
“What?” Liryk exclaimed, unraveling himself from Hildyth’s arms and pushing past her into the room. He sagged against the wall, distraught at what he saw. “How?” he croaked.
Wyl began to weep hysterically. His own fragile state of mind helped him to be convincing as he broke down, speaking through sobs. Briavel’s soldiers quickly dispersed the few eager onlookers and closed the door so they could hear privately how such a tragedy had occurred. Through her cries, they pieced together that she had gone to fetch some more wine at her client’s behest and in the few minutes she was out of the chamber, someone had come in and killed Koreldy.
“He had this on his eyes,” she said, reaching to pick up the pouch. “He would not have known it was not me coming back into the room.”
“Did you see the killer?”
“No, not really. I was gone only for a few moments but I did see a man running down the corridor. I thought it odd. of course, but I wasn’t really concentrating I suppose.”
Liryk put his arm around her. “Hildyth. you need to tell us everything you can remember.”
“That’s it, Commander Liryk. I…I’m so sorry. I know he was your friend. I only saw the killer’s back. I dropped the wine. He was big and dark-haired but no more could I tell you. Poor Koreldy.” Wyl knew the babbling was effective and real. He felt entirely rattled.
“How was this fellow dressed? Anything distinctive?”
“No, sir. Like any other civilian of Briavel…like any other patron of this place.”
It was only then Liryk noticed the missing finger.
“Shar’s Balls!” he said to his men. “This was an assassination.”
“How can you know?” Wyl stammered.
“Koreldy wore a distinctive ring on that fingerhe told me once it belonged to his family. It will be proof of his death to whoever ordered it.”
Hildyth began softly weeping again. “Do you need me any more, sir? I’m feeling very unwell.”
“No, you go home, young lady. I’ll send one of my men to escort you back. Please don’t go anywhere else, though, we may need you still.”
“I’ll be fine, Commander Liryk; don’t spare one of your men. Perhaps someone from here can take me home,” Wyl whispered, mind racinghe had no idea where home was. “You catch the killer,” he said, moving to take the old soldier’s hand. “I know you liked him, sir. I did too.”
“That I did. I’m very sorry it has turned out this way for him.”
Liryk turned to one of his soldiers and asked him to fetch someone to help the young woman home. He returned quickly with a kind woman called Remy who took charge of the weeping Hildyth.
“Come on, love. I’ll get you back to your rooms,” she said as she led Wyl away.
With Remy’s consoling chatter and guiding arm, Wyl stumbled in
Hildyth’s unfamiliar body back to the two rooms in Crowyll amongst
the densely populated area near the market. He thanked his
companion, shutting the door as soon as it was polite, then he
leaned back against it, sucking air in hard to steady his mind.
Myrren’s gift was more generous than he had first imagined. So now he was no longer Romen but Faryl. A woman! He had to get away from this town. What to do first?
Wyl steadied his mind as Gueryn had taught him to do from childhood. He calmed the raging swirl of his thoughts. Then he centered himself and looked at the problem, his strategist’s mind attacking it objectively.
Steal my weapons back, was his first decision, then, fetch my horse. Retrieve the finger. Leave Crowyll under cloak of darkness. Where to?
Find the manwitch, came his own reply.
Seek answers to the Quickening.
One of the most popular questions asked of
any fantasy author is “Where did the idea come from?” In this
instance I have a friend, Diane Rogers, to thank for sharing her
experience of a visit to a “seer.” The moment she began to relate
her spooky tale. I felt my hair stand on end. I knew I was hearing
the seed of a story which would make an exciting adventure and here
it is…thank you for reading it.
Behind each book is a team of people; some in a supportive role, others who physically contribute to the final product. All deserve my thanks…Gary Havelberg and Sonya Caddy, my draft readers, are treasured, as is the wonderful Robin Hobb, who has been such an inspiration for my work. Hooray for the terrific team at HarperCollins Eos for giving me this opportunity for an international audience, especially Jennifer Brehl and my editor, Kate Nintzel both such a pleasure to work with, and special thanks to my agent, Chris Lotts, for his guidance as well as his expertise in his field. And for any of you who may not believe that such a stature as Fynch’s might exist, let me assure you it does by thanking ten-year-old Justin Klimentou for allowing me to borrow his unbelievably slight frame for my gong boy.
Finally to my family and friends, who already know how much their support is appreciated. Heartfelt thanks and love to Ian who keeps the circus of our home and business life rolling forward when I am lost in other worlds and to my sons, Will and Jack, for their boundless understanding and affection.
About the Author
Born in 1960 and raised in southern England. FIONA McINTOSH spent an early childhood in the gold-mining camp of Bibiani in Ghana, where her father was working. She studied in Brighton before starting a career in PR and marketing in London. She made Australia her home in 1980. continuing in a travel-marketing career with an ad agency, a tourism authority, and an international airline. Fiona married her magazine-publisher husband. Ian. and they now live in Adelaide with their teenage twin sons. Will and Jack. Visit her website at www.fionamcintosh.com.
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Praise for MYRREN’S GIFT THE QUICKENING BOOK ONE
“Myrren‘s Gift is a rich, satisfying confection of vivid detail, engrossing characters, and their dark doings, all beautifully written.”
Lynn Flewelling
“[A] delightful and fast-moving story…Fantasy fans will welcome…Mcintosh’s gripping first installment in her Quickening trilogy, a tale of the eternal struggle between good and evil filled with magic, blood, and jealousy.”
Publishers
Weekly
“Fiona Mcintosh is a seductress. I have not moved from my sofa for three days, beguiled by her new fantasy novel, Myrren’s Gift.”
Sydney Morning
Herald (Australia)
“[Myrren ‘s Gift] establishes Mcintosh as a talented storyteller with the ability to create strong characters and a compelling plot.”
Library Journal
“Fiona Mcintosh scores.”
The Guardian
(London)
“I’m looking forward to reading the next two.”
Robin Hobb
Books by Fiona Mcintosh
The Quickening
Myrren’s Gift Book One
Blood and Memory Book Two
Bridge of Souls
Book Three
Cover design by Ervin Serrano
Cover illustration by Les Petersen
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
MYRREN’S GIFT. Copyright Š 2003 by Fiona Mcintosh. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of PerfectBound.
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This book was originally published in Australia in 2003 by Voyager, an imprint of HarperCollins Australia.
Mobipocket Reader February 2006
ISBN 0-06-115419-9
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