Jimmy kept unrolling cloth, looking toward her shape in the darkness. Honest people never failed to amaze him.
Together they arranged the cloth into a reasonably comfortable bed and Lorrie thanked him. Jimmy considered trying to steal a kiss from her, then decided that might complicate things too much.
Then she decided to complicate things by asking, ‘Will I see you again?’
‘I’ll check here tomorrow,’ he said. ‘If you’re still here I’ll see you then.’
‘Thank you,’ she said. Reaching out, she found his hand and shook it.
She had calluses on her hands, he noted, but the hand felt small and shapely, her teeth were good, and she was tall for her age: working folk, but not poor. ‘You’re welcome.’ He felt suddenly awkward. ‘Good night.’
‘Good night.’
Jimmy climbed out the window and down the other building, then headed back to Aunt Cleora’s house.
That was strange, he thought. He wondered what had brought the country girl into the big city. Especially disguised as a boy.
He’d like to see her in daylight, see if that glimpse he’d had of her had told the truth. Did she really resemble the Princess as much as he’d thought? Maybe he would return tomorrow. Time permitting.
TEN - The Baron
The sleeper tossed and moaned.
Outside the room the guards ignored the sounds, for they had heard them before; it was a rare night the Baron slept the night through without the dreams. The guards were hard men, picked for their ability to ignore the strange goings-on inside the baronial home as much as for their ability to defend their liege. They were all former mercenaries, men whose loyalty was to gold, not tradition, and they were content to be oblivious to the screaming that often came from their master’s quarters, or other parts of the mansion.
Bernarr ap Lorthorn, Baron of Land’s End, vassal to Lord Sutherland, Duke of the Southern Marches, writhed in troubled sleep. He knotted his fine linen sheets in clutching fists and struggling limbs, the fabric already damp with perspiration. In his dreams he was not the scrawny, ageing man with limp grey hair of his waking hours, but young and strong and deeply in love with his beautiful wife Elaine.
Please, no, he thought. The lips of his aged body whimpered the words. Please, no.
The dreams were wonderful, and hateful, beyond description. They were always the same, as if he were riding in the mind of his younger self, seeing and smelling, tasting and feeling as he had—but in some lost corner of his mind he knew how the story ended. Disaster loomed on the horizon, rearing like some ghastly fortress of demons beyond the edge of time, casting a shadow that made all the beauty and glory a sickness. Yet he was doomed to relive the past in his dreams, to endure the joy and wonder, only to find, at the last . . .
He’d met her in Rillanon.
It was early summer when he first visited Rillanon, a time of flowers, blossoms everywhere. Wherever his glance fell a riot of nature’s favourite colours gladdened the eye. Even the wharfside taverns bore window-boxes or were wrapped in some flowering vine.
As he left the docks, on horse, to ride to the King’s palace, the sheer magnificence of the Kingdom’s capital took his breath away. He hated even to blink for fear of missing some new and even more beautiful sight; only a lifetime’s practice enabled him to ride the unfamiliar horse through the crowded streets without being thrown off, while his eyes were captivated and his mind beguiled.
The city was built upon hills wound round with silver ribbons of rivers and canals. It seemed that Rillanon had no top, but kept reaching up to the clouds forever. Graceful bridges arched over the waterways. Countless spires and slender, crenellated towers bore colourful banners and pennons, all fluttering in the breeze as though applauding the wind.
His heart, so heavy since his father’s death during the winter, lifted at the sight. Bernarr’s eyes teared with pride and his heart swelled at the great honour of being a part of the Kingdom of the Isles.
Thank the gods duty delayed me, he thought. This must be the most beautiful of seasons in the most beautiful of cities. I have seen her at her best, and the image shall be in my heart always.
He’d come to offer his fealty to the King and be installed as the new Baron of Land’s End. Traditionally, his demesne was part of the Western Realm, and his master, Lord Sutherland, was vassal to the Prince of Krondor, but it was traditional that every noble of the Kingdom, no matter from how distant a province, made a journey within as short a time as possible to kneel before the King in the ancient birthplace of the nation.