Part 40 (1/2)
She laughed at him. ”Why do you hesitate?”
He needed no further invitation. An odd negotiation this, but one he approved.
”Ah . . .” she whispered against his kiss, ”you answer well, Daimhin of the Raven. I wonder, will the rest of your tribute be as sweet as this?”
”If I answer so well, do you need more tribute than this?”
She laughed, churning his blood. ”Not I, but I think you may not wish to make love to my Council. There must be fruit in this for them, as well.”
”Their tribute arrives with your brother-a day, maybe a bit more. Can they wait?”
”They can. I cannot.” She turned black eyes up to his. ”My tribute, lord-now.”
He could barely speak. ”You . . . you will aid me? You will give me men, arms?”
Again, the husky laugh. ”So mercenary. I will give you more than that, lord Daimhin.”
She was mesmerizing and he, willing to be mesmerized. Yet, as they sealed their pact, his mind wandered to the lacework corridor and the transparent vault overhead and he wondered how, with winter pressing in on them, the palace of the Banarigh Lilias was kept so warm.
The day of their departure for the Gyldan-baenn dawned clear and cool, the Sun s.h.i.+mmering off the sands of Kansbar's beaches as if reflected from the crushed remains of pearls. From the balcony outside Lilias's state salon, Daimhin Feich gazed up into the azure sky and took it as an augury: The Sun s.h.i.+nes on you, Regent Feich, and the way is clear. Clear to the Gyldan-baenn, clear to the Baenn-an-ratha, clear to Airdnasheen.
He set his eyes on the eastward track, gripping the balcony's tiled wall with eager fingers. ”I'm coming for you, Taminy,” he murmured. ”Catahn Hillwild, prepare to give up your prize.”
Arms slid sinuously about his waist. ”Do you Weave, my dear Sorcerer?”
He chuckled. ”I'm no sorcerer, Lilias.”
”No? If not a sorcerer, then what?”
”What indeed?” He smiled. ”Sometimes I wonder.”
Lilias laughed and slid around into his embrace. From the courtyard below, where their combined forces gathered, all eyes could see them; she seemed not to care.
”Less than a G.o.d,” she murmured, ”more than a man.”
He accepted her flattery with a deep sense of wonder, feeling the truth of her words to his core. More than a man, indeed. His spirit, his soul, stretched to encompa.s.s power he had once doubted the existence of. He stood amazed at his own ability-at his own growth.
”Less than a G.o.d,” he teased. ”That's not what you told me last night.”
”Ah, well. In the dark, you are a G.o.d, and you make me a G.o.ddess.”
He had lowered his head to her kiss when a commotion within the palace unraveled the heavy Weave of desire. They parted and turned from the view of their gathering forces to see Loc Llywd enter the salon followed by a Deasach corsair in dirt-spattered clothing. Feich recognized him as one of the men Lilias had sent off in search of her brother and his caravan of gifts, now two days past their expected time of arrival.
Frowning, the Banarigh stepped from the balcony to meet them within. ”You have a report? Speak. Where is the caravan?”
”The caravan is in the outer court,” said Loc Llywd, his eyes on Feich. ”But your brother . . .” He gestured at the corsair.
Lilias's attention turned to that quarter and she delivered a sharp demand in her native tongue. In response the corsair rattled off some manner of report, the intelligible words of which were ”Shak Saba.”
The syllables that rolled from the man's tongue turned Lilias's bronze-gold skin to ash and shocked her graceful body into brittle rigidity. She asked several short, cutting questions in a voice that trembled with emotion, then dismissed the messenger with a slash of her hand.
Loc Llywd hesitated to follow the corsair from the room, instead attempting to speak to Lilias in gentle tones. She raised her voice and her hand to him, and he bowed swiftly from the room.
She stood quivering for several minutes, her back to Feich-pike straight-hands gripping her upper arms. When she turned at last, fury and anguish burned in her dark eyes.
”My brother is dead. Dead at the hands of your countrymen. While I have made you my lover and ally.”
Stunned, Feich could only hold out his arms to her and will her to feel his astonishment and outrage. She ignored his silent entreaty and flung herself past him to the balcony. He followed.
”Tell me, Lilias. Tell me what has happened.”
Her eyes on the orderly chaos in the parade ground below, Lilias said, ”Why should I not kill you, Feich? Tell me that.”
”I can think of many reasons, not the least of which is that I have shared your bed these past nights.”
”Sorn is dead.”
”I had nothing to do with his death, Lilias-Raven. I am as stunned as you are. Now, will you not tell me what your man reported?”
She drew a ragged breath, looking, for the first time, vulnerable, mortal-more woman than G.o.ddess.
”He was bringing your caravan across Madaidh lands. The Madaidh attacked in the night. They killed Sorn. Some say it was The Madaidh, himself, that murdered him.”
”And the tribute?”
She laughed-a sound like gla.s.s breaking. ”They took nothing. Nothing but the girl my brother was so enamored of . . . Iseabal of the White Skin.”
They had taken the Wicke, leaving priceless treasure. Why?
Feich shook himself. ”And the cannon?”
”They destroyed it. Why, Daimhin? Why would they kill Sorn, yet leave others alive? Why would they take this girl and leave a treasure behind?”
Why, indeed.
He moved closer to Lilias, holding her eyes by will. ”Can't you guess? Rodri Madaidh, while pretending to me that he and his House were neutral, has all the while been under the sway of the Golden Wicke. The girl he liberated was herself a Wicke-a close confidante of Taminy-Osmaer. Your brother was murdered because he dared lay hands on one of Taminy's own.”
”As you did, by Sorn's tell. Why are you not dead?”
”I am protected, Lilias, by my own aidan. Your brother possessed no such Gift.”
”And yours did not show you what would happen to him?”
He could feel her rage building, seeking an outlet. He must give her one.
”Taminy is powerful. Her acolyte was powerful. Even as I veiled us from the eyes of the Madaidh and the Taminists, so the Wicke and her minions lifted that veil to reveal Sorn to them. My only fault was that I did not stay behind to protect the caravan. I never imagined Sorn might become a target of the Wicke's wrath; though I knew myself to be such a target. No, Sorn was truly fond of the girl-was gentle with her. It was a gentleness she did not deserve.”
”You could have left your woman behind.”