Part 33 (1/2)
”I could be persuaded,” Sorn said.
”And what could persuade you?”
”The Nairnian sorceress.”
”What? Taminy?”
”No, no. Iseabal. Iseabal of the blue eyes. I want her.”
”You want her.” Feich only just kept himself from laughing. ”Whatever for? Surely you would find an experienced woman like Coinich Mor more arousing than a village cailin.”
The boy had the grace to blush. ”I've known a score of women like Coinich Mor-experienced, as you say, and gluttonous when it comes to young men. Iseabal is . . . innocent, exotic, beautiful, magical. I find her . . . fascinating.”
”Exotic,” Feich repeated. ”A village cailin. A Cirkemaster's daughter.”
”Oh, not to you, surely. You're used to your fair women with their light eyes and snowy flesh. But what is common to you is alien to me. Frankly, I find Iseabal's very lack of experience in matters of pa.s.sion as exciting, in its own way, as Coinich Mor's skill. But it's more than that, Daimhin. There is something indefinable about her, something intriguing. She seems so gentle. Yet, she has the steel to contradict even you, though you hold over her the power of life and death.”
”Ah, and it would have nothing to do with the fact that magic drips from her fingertips.”
The Deasach's eyes grew brighter still. ”You can almost see it. Yes, there is that. She is a jewel. A jewel I would like to own.”
Arrogant whelp. ”Out of the question. I need her.”
”As hostage? So be it. What difference in whose tent she sleeps? Consider her your hostage and me her . . . special guardian.”
”I need access to her. She . . . provides me with power, you see.”
The boy's brow knit. ”Power? I don't understand.”
”You wouldn't-not being Gifted with the aidan. You say she is magical. You're right. She is, but only one with the Gift, one who can Weave inyx, could possibly make use of her magic. I can channel that power. She would be useless to you.”
Sorn smiled. ”Oh, not useless, Daimhin. A woman needn't be dripping with the aidan, as you call it, to be of value. Yet, you are right in saying I have no need of her power. If you do, then of course you may use her as you wish.”
”I'm sorry, Sorn. I can't let you take her.”
”Then I can give my sister no good reason to let you take your troops across Deasach land or send Deasach forces with you into the Gyldan-baenn.” He began to rise.
Feich raised a detaining hand. ”Wait. Perhaps we can compromise. You may visit her tonight, if you wish.”
”Not enough.”
”Then you may visit her at your whim until we depart for El-Deasach. You may even take her to your tent on occasion.”
”Again-not enough. Look, my friend Regent, if my sister agrees to aid you, what need will you have for this girl? Surely it is Coinich Mor who aids you with your Weaving.”
Feich sat up on a jolt of suspicion. ”What do you know of that?”
”What I see. What little she tells me.” Catching Feich's sudden scowl, he added, ”You made a great impression on her. 'A man of consuming pa.s.sion,' she called you. 'A man of raw power.' Surely, with such a woman at your side, you have no need of young Iseabal. Let me have her. If you still need her on your campaign to Hrofceaster, then of course, she shall come . . . but in my custody. Tell me-what difference does it make?”
”This is the only bribe you'll accept?”
”Ah, please-a gift.”
”This is the only gift you'll accept from me? Is there nothing else I can give you, do for you?”
”Nothing.”
”If it's village cailin you want, I can give you a dozen-each colored just like this one. Or each a different shade, if you prefer.”
”They would not be magical heretics. They would not be sorceresses. They would just be young girls. In that way, even Coinich Mor is exotic. I find I like magical women. Perhaps, when we find this Osmaer of yours . . .”
The hair rose up on the back of Feich's neck. ”Precisely. Taminy-Osmaer is mine.”
Sorn favored him with a gleaming smile. ”See? Now what does any man-even a man like yourself-need with three sorceresses?”
Feich snorted. ”What, indeed. All right, friend Sorn. You may be Iseabal's 'guardian.' Consider her your personal responsibility. I ask only that I be allowed to consort with her at will.”
”Of course.” The boy rose and made an exaggerated bow. ”You are a most gracious host, Daimhin.”
”Yes, aren't I?”
Daimhin saw the Deasach out, torn between anger at the boy's arrogance, and admiration of his sheer gall. He'd have made a good Feich, he thought, and determined to visit the Nairnian immediately, before her 'guardian' could lay hands on her. He would have to hurry to get another chance at the Stone of Ochan before they departed for El-Deasach. Yes, and he must give immediate orders to Ruadh about the preparation of their men.
He had not made it to the door when it rattled and opened, revealing a flushed, nervous Caime Cadder.
Irritated, Feich stopped to glare at the cleirach. ”It is not only impolite to enter a private room without permission, Minister, in this case it is also dangerous. You had better tell me something earth-shaking or I'll have you flung off the western battlements.”
Cadder blanched, his eyes glistening. ”Please, lord. I beg you-hear what I have to say before you throw me out. There is something you must know. The stone you tried to Weave with this morning was not the Osmaer. Osraed Ladhar has turned traitor and put another crystal in its place.”
Chapter 16.
We sent down the Scripture as a blessing for the faithful, but it can only conduce to the downfall of the wicked-they who hear nothing in the Scriptures but words. Consider: The Sun's blaze lights the entire sky, yet only its warmth reaches the blind.
-Utterances of Osraed Haefer Hageswode #36 Ladhar's trek back through Creiddylad to Ochanshrine was uneventful, but disturbing nonetheless. There was an increased military presence in the streets, largely in the form of Feich and Dearg kinsmen and Malcuim regulars. Ladhar was puzzled by the seeming fickleness of the latter. While it was well known that a healthy contingent of minor Malcuim kinsmen had fled after Colfre's death-no doubt a.s.suming the Feich would soon be at their throats-just as many had stayed behind to lend support in finding their Cyneric. Now they hunted down Taminist Wicke in his name.
An irony.
Curious circ.u.mstances, the Abbod thought, that had brought a proud House to this pa.s.s. Colfre Malcuim had been an only child; there was no brother to make a claim to the Throne or lead the House to fight for his son's return. The closest Malcuim relations were cousins-daughters of Colfre's aunts and uncles mostly, a rare son among them-who had lives and concerns of their own, with little interest, it seemed, in grappling the man to whom had fallen, not unwanted, the protection of the Malcuim Throne.
Ladhar paused momentarily to watch a couple of Dearg kinsmen drag a young girl, kicking and screaming, from a tiny Backstere's along a Cyne's Way back street to present her to a waiting Feich.
An older woman-her mother, Ladhar a.s.sumed-followed them, protesting her daughter's virtue at the top of her ample lungs.
”She's a good girl, sirs! A good girl!” she cried, her broad accent marking her northern rural origins. ”She never done a midge of Weaving. I swear't. She's a good girl!”
The Feich in charge-a tall, brawny man with mud-brown hair and beard-grabbed the girl's wrist and thrust her hand toward her mother's face.