Part 6 (1/2)

”Seems a little unusual for something so personal.”

”Personal?”

”Well, there's no shame in it. But we usually don't share our heritage with anyone besides close friends.” She shrugged. ”It is getting to be an old-fas.h.i.+oned custom.”

Caleb grinned. ”Now I understand why I was the last man in Ada to know who your mother is.”

He meant it as a joke, but the blood rose to her cheeks. ”It's not my fault she happens to be the Overseer!”

Caleb's smile vanished, and her anger quickly melted into embarra.s.sment. She touched his arm. ”I didn't mean to snap at you. It's just that ... no matter where I go or who I meet, I'm never only a Loremaster. I'm always the Overseer's daughter!”

”I can see where that might get in the way,” he said, relieved. ”Be grateful there's nothing worse about your family to deal with.”

At first she merely gazed at him, as if confused by his words; then she turned away.

”Have you spoken with Feitseg?” she asked.

The tremor in her voice only reinforced Caleb's fear that he had committed another verbal blunder. ”No. Who's Feitseg?”

”The Underseer a.s.signed to help newcomers. He was at your Judgment today. I was wondering if you've considered a profession of some kind.”

”I haven't thought about it, to be honest. I've had other things to worry about. But after those wonderful tales you told me, I'd like to try something that involves exploration. I can think of no better way to learn about your people-not to mention this beautiful country you live in.”

She wiped her eyes, her back still turned. ”Well, if you're sure about it, there's nothing better than studying at Gerentesk to give you a head start. I'll see if Ressolc has any openings. But you should still talk to Feitseg.”

”I will.” A long, awkward silence followed. ”Telai,” he said softly, ”I'm not sure what I said ... but please don't be upset with me.”

She faced him again, and she seemed not to be looking at him but into some great distance. She was so beautiful in the moonlight-a vision of strength yet filled with doubt and longing. It pulled at Caleb like a tide, yet still he hesitated, his heart waging its own little war. Then her eyes focused directly onto his, as if the answers she sought might be found there instead. It conquered him, and with one quick step he wrapped his arm around Telai's waist and kissed her.

There was nothing demure or submissive about the Grand Loremaster of Ada. So it was no surprise when she tried to pull away at first. Then she relaxed and melted into him, and all his fears and sorrows vanished in the softness of her lips, the warm press of her body.

She withdrew a little, her arms still around his shoulders. ”Caleb Stenger! If this is another serving of revenge, it's definitely not a cold one.”

He laughed. ”No last names, remember?”

”Caleb,” she corrected with a nod.

After a silent, candid exchange, he released her. He faced the city lights again, intensely aware of her gaze upon him, feeling like a fool for caving in to his guilt.

”This place seems too good to be true,” he murmured, as if to himself. ”Free of pressures, free of wars.”

”I'm not sure what you mean by pressures,” she said. ”But we certainly have had our wars. Those murals should have convinced you of that.”

”I know. But you still use the same weapons you did a thousand years ago. You aren't always looking for better ways to kill.”

She leaned her back against the rail again. ”I love Ada, too, Caleb. But that's not why I kissed you.”

He drew a deep breath. There seemed no end to her ability to disarm him. ”But aren't you a part of this world?” he said. ”Here everything is new to me, and there's so much to discover.” He hesitated, then forged ahead. ”The only thing that could make me happier is if you went with me.”

Her lips parted a little in surprise. Caleb waited in breathless suspense. Suddenly, a tiny, pale light floated across the balcony, winked out for a moment, and as Telai watched it repeated its performance until it lost itself in the dark canopy of leaves.

His words spilled out in a torrent. ”I know this is a bit presumptuous. There's no rush, I'm willing to wait for such an important deci-”

”Caleb,” she interrupted, ”I'm honored. I mean that. But I can't walk away from my obligations, even if I wanted to.”

He guessed another reason for her answer, but it took none of the sting away. ”I suppose it is unfair of me to expect anything else right now. But there's one thing you can count on-I'll never be like Tenlar. I'll never consider love a second choice. I spent too many weeks and months away from Karla to make that mistake again.”

She paled, as if struck by arrows instead of words. Caleb waited, desperate for a ray of hope, every beat of his heart a test of endurance. But it did not last. Like a battle-weary soldier at any reminder of war, the growing pain in her face was more than he could bear.

”Telai,” he whispered, and held her in his arms.

She offered no resistance. There was no thought of romance, or pa.s.sion, only acceptance of the simplest gift of all, comfort. It was a dream so blissful that time itself was his greatest enemy. For like any dream it came to an end, and she turned her back again, as if unwilling to look upon the raw honesty that had finally matched her own.

He tried to think of something to say, but missed his chance. ”I had Eke prepare another room,” she said, ”in case you're too tired to return to the inn.”

Caleb's heart sank. ”I'd best get Warren back. I'm not that tired, anyway.”

She nodded. ”I'll have Yote send for a carriage.”

He stepped forward and rested his hands on her shoulders. ”Thank you for a wonderful evening, Telai. And thank you for listening.”

He could see part of her face now, and the city lights gleamed off the trace of a tear, evidence of an old struggle Caleb realized went far deeper than any memory of lost love. Whether it was fear, or duty, or some other dark secret, was beyond his ability. Yet there was a message-one he felt he should be able to read.

He struggled to say something more, unable to bear the thought of leaving her this way. But the wait itself became unbearable, for both of them. Telai shrugged his hands away and walked quickly to the door. Caleb was just as quick to open it for her, but awkwardly, like a boy on a first date.

It was ten minutes later, as he was riding in the carriage with Warren asleep across his lap, when the message finally reached his slow brain.

You're not the only one desperate for hope, Caleb!

Strange how her voice sounded so much like Karla's now.

7.

Jewels in the Sand The human heart is the most fickle of counselors.

- Tenlar, Master Raen of Spierel A MORNING RAIN beat softly on the tall, thick windows of Gerentesk. Caleb Stenger, alone in a small study in the northeast corner of the library, watched the blurred image of a pedestrian waver past like in a dream. So untroubled, he thought. Even while walking in the rain.

Drawing a deep sigh, he returned to his cus.h.i.+oned seat by the table. The lamplight gleamed off the worn, gilded t.i.tle of a large book: Besir Orand'itee, or The Final Wisdom of Orand, a collection of works by the most famous Prophet in Adan history.

Caleb placed the book in his lap. It was only a copy of the original scrolls, but he knew its value, and opened the yellowed pages with utmost care. Most of the written works in Gerentesk had been duplicated many times over the years by legions of dedicated scribes. And not merely works of lore and history. Texts on mining and law and weaponry were all to be found here, even books on Hodynese, the guttural language of their enemies.

Though he could not help but respect that achievement, he considered many of Orand's verses to be little more than plat.i.tudes, more common sense than philosophy. What little foretelling existed was often too enigmatic for his inexperienced eyes. Orand's boldest prophecies were like jewels in a mountain of sand, as if deliberately hidden from careless eyes.

Caleb opened the book, turning the pages to one of those rare jewels, and silently repeated the Prophet's words in his mind: Within Graxmoar, the rugged island, lies the agent of Urmanaya's grief, an open window on the innermost desires, an ancient doorway to power.

Who can know its origin? The stars cry out their shame.