by Lexy Wolfe
The words made Ash’s expression cloud. “I have not been so invariably accepting.”
“No. But you changed when you learned you were wrong.” Tyrsan wagged his stylus at him. “And that is what makes a good leader. It isn’t about not ever being mistaken, or always being correct. It is about being firm or flexible when you need to be. Better to admit to a mistake than trying to deny it. Others may not initially appreciate such honesty. Idiots never do.”
“You’ve made mistakes?”
Tyrsan looked up with a sardonic expression. “Dremmen?”
“Ah.” Ash remembered killing the hated Unsvet Guardian, his visage hardening. “Yes.” He frowned. “We have not found the thing he had allied himself to.”
“The Desanti have scoured the mountain and surrounding territory and discovered no trace. I suspect it left once the traitor was discovered and his allies were uncovered. Whatever ability Skyfire has, it was effective.” He looked back down at his journal, dipping his stylus in the ink jar. “I can only pray that there are others with his gifts in Desantiva and that they would be willing to offer themselves to service to the Timeless One.”
Ash made a thoughtful sound, tapping the edge of his glass against his bottom lip.
The flicker of flame from a small lamp cast a feeble glow over the pair under an ornately woven blanket. The woman propped herself up on one elbow, half laying across the man, reaching up to brush her fingers through his tousled hair. “Was this more the idolatry you sought?” Itena purred.
“Ye know I don’t want no idolatry,” Emil grumbled, though he put his arms around her, pulling her to lay atop him. “I was happy bein’ who I was. Sure, bit more respect would ha’ been nice out there. But havin’ people nearly wet themselves when they see th’ two colors on m’ face?” He sighed, laying his head back and closing his eyes.
Itena smiled with sympathy and leaned down to kiss him. “I agree with how you feel. It does get frustrating.” She reached up to turn up the small lamp, then looked closer at him. “I thought so. You’re losing the gray in your hair. People won’t recognize you out there by the time you are wandering among the normals.”
“Good an’ bad,” he grumped. “Everybody be watchin’ me an’ Emaris. We kenna do anythin’ in secret ‘cause we will stick out. ‘Oh, look! It be th’ Dusvet Guardian gypsies!’ Them who prefer ta remain anonymous when sellin’ their information won’t want ta get near us now.”
The woman moved to sit to the side, shifting to lean against him after he sat up. The levity that had been in her expression fled, pensive seriousness taking its place. “Yes, that has always been a problem for our people. Much of what we do depends on what we allow to be seen or what we keep hidden.” She laced her fingers through his, lightly stroking the back with her other hand. “And if this ‘bayuli-volsha’ bond you share with the other Dusvet Guardians does as you say it does—”
His voice was flat. “Trust me, it does. Don’t mind th’ sharin’ of emotions and all. I likes th’ feelin’ o’ family wi’out havin’ ta be near ‘em. Soothes the ache o’ bein’ away from clan. But, I ain’t gonna be fergotten by any of ‘em. An’ if th’ na’Zhekali don’t ferget us, ain’t no one will be fergetten ‘bout us around here.” He kissed her knuckles lightly before releasing her hand, reaching for his clothing. “Be one o’ th’ reasons why I love ye. Ye treat me like the lunk I be.”
“I never considered you anything but a fine gypsy man,” she pointed out in mild tones as she slipped her dress on and began snugging the laces of her bodice. “We all need those people in our lives who both hold us up and make us feel powerful and wonderful, but keep us grounded and remembering the important things in life.”
Emil smirked, looking over his shoulder. “Yeah, suppose yer right. But damn, sometimes it smarts when ye knock me down.” He slid his arms around her waist as she draped hers about his neck. “Like it when ye kiss my bruised ego though.”
Itena’s whispery laugh filled their shelter. “Perhaps I will make the journey to claim my second color one day. Might help me be able to scry you and those of your tribe to know you are safe or if you need assistance.”
“Eh, I doubt it,” Emil stated, gently extracting himself from her embrace. “I think they’d kill me iffin I explain why.”
“I imagine it has to do with the Desanti. I do and do not look forward to the Desanti’s return to Fortress. If they are anything like Storm il’Thandar, it will be extremely difficult for the hidden clan to remain hidden.” She absently gathered her hair up and tied it back with deft skill.
“It won’t be soon, so ye ha’ time t’ prepare. Desanti ha’ less trust than th’ most miserly nobleman. Doubt more of ‘em will be leavin’ their desert wi’out somethin’ drivin’ ‘em. They certainly ha’ no reason t’ come here.”
Emil wrinkled his nose, stepping out of the tent-like structure. He squinted at the giant sunstone in the high ceiling that allowed plants and small animals to thrive in massive cavern. The rock, naturally imbued with magical energy, mimicked the rise and set of the sun outside. “Damn, dinna realize th’ hour it be.”
“Would they miss you if you stayed a little longer?” Itena asked, hugging his arm. She glanced over as Emaris stumbled out of another tent wearing only his trousers and yawning hugely. “It would be nice for you both to share a meal with the clan.”
“Really should be gettin’ back ta see Lyra an’ Bella off.” He scratched his head roughly. “Been sorta tense b’tween her an’ Skyfire. Little afraid of not bein’ there iffin something flares up. Doubt he’d hurt her,” he assured to her alarmed expression. “But want ‘em both ta know we be there. Love ‘em dearly. Even if they both be bewilderin’ as all hells.”
“I understand.” Itena mused. “There may be a way for you to regain your anonymity. If you’re willing and the other na’Zhekali are accepting of it.”
“Yeah? I be listenin’.” He watched her with keen curiosity.
“It would require you to stay here for a while longer.” Emil blinked. “The ability to conceal your mark is not just a seer’s gift from the Seeing One. The Timeless One has to be agreeable, and that requires considerable communion with Her. And practice to control the concealment effect until even unconscious, it remains hidden.”
Emil frowned. “Not travel wi’ Mureln no more? We been wi’ him fer over ten years! Th’ lout’s probably fergotten how t’ watch his own back. We kenna leave ‘im unprotected.”
“He is well protected in the company of those of your tribe,” she pointed out.
“Abandon ‘im?” He crossed his arms, turning away. “No. No’ after so long.”
Itena smiled sadly. “I remember being like you when I first earned my color, thinking like a short-lived normal.” She came around, putting her hand on his cheek. “But you are not one of them anymore, Emil. You are a Guardian of Time. A Dusvet at that. As you have noticed and felt within yourself, you are returning to your physical prime here in Her domain. Conceal your colors, you won’t appear to be anything but someone of the wandering people.”
She sighed at his stubborn glare, dropping her hand and taking a step back. “You must understand. To normals, the passing of days, weeks, months, years feels like forever. And often, it can be because mortal lives are so fleeting.”
He followed her gaze when she looked at Emaris smiling at the beautiful, heavyset woman fawning over him. “It is not easy living among those who do not have Her blessings to anchor them in the river of time. So many here have been born, grown up and old, and died since I earned my color. Most Guardians cannot live with that reality. That is why Sanctuary exists. To give a place where someone long-lived can forget the brevity of others’ lives.”
Her dark eyes turned back to meet his. “Mureln is a Dusvet Guardian. Your tribe are all Dusvet Guardians, save for that child. And no one knows what the mark on his cheek means.” She hesitated a moment before finishing her thought. “But to gain true anonymity, you would need to undo the bond yo
u share with them.”
Atypical grimness settled on Emil’s features. “Ye want us ta leave th’ na’Zhekali? Do ye know what ye be askin’ of us?”
“It would be necessary, else they may betray you, intentionally or unintentionally. I am sure it would feel like a terrible loss to you, but then you would be free to travel where you were needed. You would only need to stay here long enough for us to teach you how to hide among normals. I doubt it would be any longer than until the end of the trade season. The wandering clan will be returning soon. You and your brother should be ready by the time they must depart before the weather closes the roads again.” Worry creased her expression when he turned away. She reached out to him. “Emil?”
“I need ta think,” he stated in flat tones. Emaris looked between the two, the mute man frowning with concern.
As daylight brightened the common room of the na’Zhekali dormitory, Mureln emerged from his and Taylin’s bedroom. “You couldn’t sleep, either?” Ash asked from one of the deep chairs around the fire pit that banished the morning chill from the air. The unexpected voice drew the bard’s bewildered gaze.
“I’m used to waking early.” On his way over to join the mage, he grabbed a wine bottle and two glasses. He handed the first to the mage before pouring for himself. “Before you ask, no, it is not too early to start drinking. I need to take the edge off my agitation this morning or I’ll not be able to maintain my bardic objectivity.”
Ash smirked faintly, raising his glass in mute salute. “I wasn’t going to question. I simply had not been motivated enough to get it for myself.” The amusement faded as he raised his right hand, looking at the star-shaped scar in his palm. “If I’m the cause of your unease, forgive me.”
“Heh. You aren’t.” Mureln sat back with a gusty sigh. “I think it’s Emil.” Shrugging one shoulder at Ash’s surprise, he said, “Vodani aren’t as oblivious to emotions as you northborn. We just don’t form bayuli-volsha among our clans. We are cousins to the Desanti. The level of empathy we have enables us to understand others. It’s why most bards tend to have Vodani heritage.”
“Stands to reason.” Ash closed his eyes. “Even though I’ve shared this emotional bond most of my life with Nolyn, sensing so many others is…distracting.”
“You mean distressing.” Mureln quirked a wan smile. “It’s hard being separated from someone you care about. More so when the distance prevents you from coming to their aid. I think this helpless feeling was what the Desanti were trying to warn us about. Hells, it nearly killed both Storm and Jaison when desert raiders slaughtered the original na’Zhekali tribe. They tried warning us we would lament our decision it if we went through with the ritual.”
Ash drained half his glass. “I regret nothing of my choices. Not with Nolyn or all of you. The bond allows me to scry Storm’s past. At least somewhat. I glimpsed her in her childhood before the tragedy.” He sighed, shaking his head. “She was so carefree. Open, sharing, joyful. If only—”
“Don’t start down that path,” Mureln warned. “It was terrible, but it was part of the journey that brought you two back together. None of us would be here today otherwise. I hate to say everything she endured was necessary, but I believe they were.” He reached over to put his hand on Ash’s knee briefly. “It is better to focus on the future to ensure such sacrifices are never needed again. Or at least, try to.”
Ash looked at the bard from the corner of his eye. “I hate that you are right.”
Mureln smirked. “So do I. Believe me.” He topped both of their glasses off. “I have to wait until Emil and Emaris get back from wherever they got themselves off to all night, but I can talk with you. What has you so unsettled? Surely it isn’t just Storm you’re fretting over.”
“I have been having nightmares.” Mureln blinked then stared at him so long the mage smiled without mirth. “Given the look on your face, you didn’t know, did you?”
“I had seen you were acting out of character for you. It confused me that I wasn’t sensing any emotional turmoil to account for it.” Dawning realization suffused his expression. “Well, that would explain some of her erratic behavior of late. Storm must have been trying to protect you by shielding you from us. There were times I considered approaching you about your odd demeanor and she either drew you away or intercepted and distracted me.”
Ash groaned, letting his head drop against the back of the couch. “I need to speak with her. My pride is not so fragile.”
“I do not care how strong or fragile you believe yourself to be. I will always protect you,” Storm stated as she walked in from the tunnel entrance, her hair damp from bathing. She sat beside her lifemate, putting her head on his shoulder. “You said people expect strength from their leaders, even when they are not. So weakness must be masked. You lead the tribe with me. A leader cannot be weak when strength is expected. I knew not what else to do for you.”
Mureln opened his mouth to argue but shut it again when the mage held up a hand to stop him. Ash slipped his arm around her waist and kissed the top of her head. “I should be more willing to talk about my problems, not try to hide them or hide from them. But thank you for trying to protect me, my heart.” She smiled faintly, closing her eyes as she leaned against him.
His smile faded as he looked at the scar in his palm again. “Half of my distraction has been what I’ve felt from Nolyn and the fact that I cannot see anything around him in Ithesra when I attempt scrying. I assume he is managing to deal with matters there. He seems to be at peace for now, but for some reason, I still cannot—”
“Paradox,” Storm stated simply, her eyes remaining shut.
Mureln and Ash traded confused looks. “What do you mean?” the bard asked.
She shrugged. “I know what you mean when you speak of paradox. For me, it has always been something the divine cannot see. I cannot see more because I am not familiar with Forenta. My life has been only Desantiva , but, there are still pockets that remain clouded to me when I scry.” She turned green-gold eyes up to meet azure blue. “If you cannot see, then something of paradox is in the region.”
Ash frowned, turning his hand over to study the eternal braid that marked his bond to the Knowing One. “She remains silent on the matter, so I do not know if She knows what goes on there or not.” He looked at Storm, opening his mouth to ask what her Totani could tell her when servants arrived, bringing breakfast for the group. To assuage their desire to remain unseen, none raised their eyes to look at them. Others of the na’Zhekali began to come out of their rooms at various stages of wakefulness.
“Good morning, Emil,” Taylin greeted as the wiry gypsy stalked in from the tunnel, followed by Emaris. Her smile faltered when he ignored her and jerked his chair out, flipping it around to sit in it backwards. The mute gypsy scowled at his brother, giving the healer a one-armed hug and kissing the top of her head in greeting.
Tyrsan arched an eyebrow at the grumpy man. “What has you so cheerful?” he asked, his voice conveying his expectation for an answer. He flicked a look at Emaris who signed tersely. The former Dulain tsked. “Emil, don’t take your woman problems out on Taylin. Whatever you did is your own fault, not hers.”
Emil’s scowl deepened for a moment before he forced a more familiar smile. “Sure, I knows that.” He looked to the healer and touched two fingers to his temple in a casual salute. “Sorry, Healer. Jus’ had a long night, be all.”
Everyone jumped when a bedroom door slammed open and Skyfire stalked out, flipping a table, sending ornamental vases crashing to the floor. He spun back to glare at Lyra coming out behind him, shaking his finger at her in warning. “Do not fix that!” Before anyone could say a word, he stormed out through the tunnel, passing Bella as she came in.
“Well,” the Vodani woman observed in dry tones. “Looks like everyone is in a good mood this morning.”
Ash looked back to his lifemate. “Shouldn’t you go talk to him?”
She shook her head. “It is a private matter between
them they must resolve themselves. I am not getting in the middle of their discussion.”
Eyes filled with tears, Lyra snapped, “It is not a discussion, it’s a fight! He is a big, stupid idiot!” Already red-faced, the fair woman turned a deeper crimson when Storm pinned a cold, wordless glare on her.
Before her tension grew beyond clenched fists, Ash put a hand on her arm. He sighed, shaking his head. “You know you don’t mean that, Lyra. You need to calm yourself and relax.”
“I am not a mage!” she shot back at him in fury, surprising everyone with her atypical hostility toward the man she had always admired to the point of reverence. “I can’t be cold and heartlessly objective like you are with Storm. Not with him!”
As Ash’s expression darkened with irritation mirroring his lifemate’s, Bella grabbed Lyra by the arm with her good hand, hauling her out of the common room. “Come on, you. You’ve got your things together and the quartermaster has your gear ready. Our horses are waiting down in Sharindel. Let’s go. We can stop by the kitchens for breakfast.” Over her shoulder as the fair woman grabbed her backpack, bow and quiver, she called, “We’ll be back inside a week!”
“Maybe some time apart is what they need,” Ophilia suggested in the oppressive silence. “She’s picking up bad Desanti habits.” Terrence looked askance at his lover, rolling his eyes and shaking his head in silence as he handed Petal a piece of sweet bread. The forest sprite dropped back into his pocket, eating happily. The woman wagged her butter knife at the look her former mentor gave her. “You were feeling the same thing, Jaison. I can tell.”
“Gossip is a bad northborn habit. It is rude in Desanti society to speak on others’ personal difficulties. And unnecessary. It is understood through the tribal bond,” he replied as he got up. “Are you coming, Tyrsan? Skyfire will start beating up the Unsvets without mercy if we’re not at the training circle to keep his attention when he’s in a mood like this. No need for them to suffer or making extra work for Taylin.”
