03 - The Eternal Rose

by Gail Dayton

  “I take it then that this is your wife?” The Habadra's voice was dry, all its previous seductive purr gone.

  Stone turned away from Merinda. It wasn't easy, but he faced the Habadra Khori. “Yes,” he said. “This is Merinda. My wife. What has happened to her?"

  The Habadra shrugged. “Life. Service."

  Stone fought to control his temper. He didn't often lose it, but when he did, it sometimes frightened even him. “And my son? Is he in a similar state?"

  Again the Habadra shrugged. “I doubt it. Those who come to service young do not struggle so against it."

  Stone took a deep breath, intended to calm him, but it didn't help much. “And what is the redemption price?"

  Her gaze sharpened. “I would be within the Law to demand that you take the place of your wife and child in my service, in exchange for their freedom."

  “But you will not.” Stone was as hard, as unmovable as his name. “I am Godmarked of Adara. I serve no one but the One who has marked me with His own hand. This is my wife. Her child is my child. I will pay what is owed, but I will not pay more."

  “Ah.” Habadra Khori gestured at the wine and pastries. “Then let us refresh ourselves and see whether we can come to terms."

  Stone inclined his head in that slight, oh-so-superior way Obed had, and took the glass of rich, red wine she offered. “The redemption price for a man-child of such tender years should be no more than five Adaran krona."

  The Habadra sipped her wine and shook her finger at him. “Now Godmarked, you know we must begin with the mother before we can come to the child. She is a healer. A—what is it your people call them? A naitan. She is worth a great deal to my Line."

  “How much?” Stone tasted his drink, intent on keeping a clear head. It was good wine, not too strong, so he drank again, his nerves making him thirsty. He took a pastry to fill his stomach with something more than wine.

  The battle had begun, the opening salvos were fired. It would be long, bloody and hard-fought, but in the end, he would win. He had no other choice.

  * * * *

  Kallista accepted a plate of food from Torchay. “Do these Daryathi never sit to eat?” she muttered to the room at large.

  “Rarely, at gatherings of this sort,” Namida Ambassador murmured back. “More business can be done when one is free to move about."

  “We're going to have chairs—lots and lots of chairs. And benches, when we host ‘gatherings of this sort’ at the embassy.” Kallista took a bite of one of the little flaky, rolled pastry tubes. This one was filled with delicately flavored fish and crisp vegetables. Daryathi food was proving a delicious adventure. She never knew what she might bite into next, and so far, everything tasted wonderful. But her knees were beginning to ache and her feet had gone numb a chime or so past.

  She took a sip of the wine Torchay held for her, thanking him with a private smile. He wouldn't let her set her glass on one of the delicate mosaic tables scattered throughout the house for the purpose. Anyone would have access to it.

  “How do you suppose Stone's mission is going?” Kallista spoke quietly, for Torchay's ears only as she handed him her glass again, daring to voice the thought uppermost in her mind.

  “Why don't you tell me?” He raised an eyebrow, reinforcing his question.

  “I can't see through his eyes like I can Joh's, and I looked earlier. Joh's outside the house with Viyelle and Fox. I don't like you playing servant like this."

  “I'm not playing servant. I'm playing bodyguard. You should be used to it by now.” He drank from her glass. Not servant behavior, since he drank after her rather than before. He couldn't claim to be checking it for poison. The blatantly insubordinate behavior made her feel better.

  So did what she could pick up of Stone through the link. Despite an undercurrent of worry, he was focused intently on a task. Kallista could sense his determination, but little more. She smiled at Torchay. “Things are going fine. I think they're bargaining. He's not worried—not any more than he has been."

  He picked up a fresh glass of wine from a passing server and handed it to her. “Check it,” he ordered.

  She rolled her eyes, but she bled off a tendril of magic yet again to check the wine for poisons. “Clean. Like all the rest of it. I checked it all, remember?"

  “Then—” He held up the glass he'd been drinking from for a toast. “To Stone's success."

  Kallista touched her new glass to his and drank. “To bringing them all safely home."

  “What are we celebrating?” Obed's smile touched only his lips as he joined them. Women kept drawing him away to flirt, as fascinated by his tattoos as Kallista had been, though all but the marks on his face and hands were hidden. Kallista might have been jealous, but she could sense a flare of jealousy through Obed's link over her moment with Torchay, that was more than enough for everyone.

  “Nothing yet.” She smiled at him, sending a surge of reassurance down his link. “Only the hope of success. Things seem to be going well enough."

  With a last touch of Torchay's hand as she handed him her empty glass and a quick glance into the blue of his eyes before he lowered them, Kallista looped her arm through Obed's and turned him toward more of his aunt's allies and guests.

  “And if all those women keep flirting with you so blatantly,” she said, “I may decide to lock you up safe at home the way Bekaara tells me husbands were once kept."

  Instead of laughing as she hoped he would, Obed looked at her with haunted eyes. “Would you? Do you care that much?"

  “Obed.” Kallista halted in the middle of the noisy, crowded party. She set her plate aside so she could take both his hands. “I care more than that. I love you. I love you enough to trust you. To trust that you love me. Can you love me that much?"

  His eyes flicked to all the people around them, now staring at the little domestic drama in their midst. Kallista didn't care. She probably would in the morning, but right now, she needed to know.

  “Yes, of course. It's not—” He gazed at her, that lost look beginning to fade.

  Kallista staggered, wrongness chiming through her like the sound of Mestada's booming bells.

  “What is it?” Torchay caught her arm, the dishes he held crashing to the floor as he dropped them to catch her. Obed let go her hands to support her other side.

  The links. Frantic, Kallista sorted through them, fumbling as she hunted the sense of wrong, the growing pain—Stone.

  She must have said his name aloud. Torchay barked out orders, gathering their iliasti from across the room, summoning their escort. Kallista scooped up magic and threw it down her link to Stone. He was hurt ... Sick ... Poisoned.

  Kallista sensed Torchay and Obed stagger as they bore her along when she drew hard on their magic. She'd practiced the healing magic, hadn't let it slide like she had so much of the other, and once she'd healed Fox at a greater distance. Or kept him from dying so his body could heal on its own. Surely she could keep Stone alive now.

  She poured magic into him, trying to see where the poison was killing him. There—his heart slowed. She fought the poison back, working frantically everywhere at once. The awful stuff seemed to have already spread everywhere. Vaguely, she heard shouting, people rushing about, asking foolish questions. Stone's heart beat slower, his lungs struggled to fill with breath. No. She would not lose him.

  Kallista called even more magic, the demon-destroying magic, shaping it this time for life. If she could shape it for peace, she could shape it for life. She named it, filling it with all her love, all the whole ilian's love for their Stone, and pushed it down the link.

  It touched him, began driving back the poison, purging it from the blood that had spread it through his body. Stone's love for all of them surged back. Kallista shared it out, knowing they all needed this. He was healing. He would live.

  And the link snapped.

  The magic broke. The love ended.

  Nothing was there in the place inside her where Stone lived but ... no
thing. Emptiness. Loss.

  Kallista screamed.

  * * *

  Chapter Nine

  The sound of her scream sliced through Torchay like a demon's terrible, fleshless talons. She screamed Stone's name, over and over again. The horses finally came from wherever the Shakiri's servants had taken them.

  “Mount,” Torchay ordered Obed, who seemed only slightly less shocky than Kallista. Torchay had to pull Kallista from Obed's grip to allow the other man to mount.

  “Take her.” Torchay gave up the precious burden into Obed's arms so Torchay could keep them both safe.

  “What is happening?” Namida Ambassador asked for the fiftieth time. “I have to explain—Shakiri Shathina is outraged—Is the Reinine ill? Is she poisoned?"

  “Not poison,” Torchay said, then had to correct himself. He hadn't learned much in the few moments Kallista had linked them all together, but what he had managed to sort out from the confused jumble of impressions was not good. Was so bad it seared his soul.

  “Kallista's not poisoned,” he said. “Not here. No one here. Our ili—Godmarked. Stone was attacked. At Habadra House—maybe. I don't know. Don't know all of it, but whatever it is, it's bad."

  “Wait—how do you know?” Namida clutched at Torchay as he mounted. “What do I say?"

  “It's magic.” Torchay held his horse on a tight rein, his agitation communicating to the animal and setting it to circling. “We are godmarked. Linked. She knows, Ambassador. She herself is not harmed, but nothing can happen to any of us without her knowing."

  “Reinas,” the captain of the guard was shouting. “Bodyguard, where do we go?” Everyone was finally mounted.

  “The embassy,” Obed said.

  "No." Torchay knew better. Kallista would not want to go to ground, not when one of hers was in danger. They couldn't hold her there if they tried. “We ride to Habadra House."

  The captain looked to Obed, then to Leyja for confirmation. After a brief exchange of glances, they all nodded. The captain saluted and led the way clattering down the street.

  Chaos reigned outside Habadra House. Part of the troop escort that had accompanied their other four stood beating on the gate, shouting for admittance, while the rest of them stacked benches and other appropriated materials in a pile to climb over the walls. Inside the gate, in the public courtyard, Joh held off a handful of servants with his sword in one hand while he held a half-naked woman with the other arm round her neck. The woman was streaked with blood, her once-white kilt soaked in it, dripping scarlet onto the white pavement.

  Kallista screamed again, her voice raw and hoarse with pain. Torchay felt the draw of magic and wished he knew how to give it without her having to call.

  “Down!” she cried and he threw himself against his horse's neck for what shelter it might give.

  The iron-barred gate exploded into powder. Adaran troops leaped to their feet and poured through into the courtyard. Kallista, apparently in control of herself and her magic again, ordered Obed after them. Torchay went after her, as always.

  Soldiers took possession of the woman Joh had captured. They warded off the Habadra servants, herding them unharmed into a corner. Kallista threw herself from the horse into Joh's arms, nearly slicing herself in half on the sword he held. Torchay swallowed his shout and dismounted.

  “Where?” Kallista had blood on her hands from somewhere, from Joh, who'd got it from the woman. She smeared it on Joh's face when she touched him.

  “Inside.” Joh covered her hand with his bloodier one, pressing it to his cheek. “It's bad. Worse than you can imagine. But I know I can't tell you not to go. Follow the blood."

  He looked up then, met Torchay's eyes, flicked to Obed and came back before letting Kallista go. Horror shivered cold fingers through Torchay, settling in a jagged icy shard in the middle of his gut. Goddess, how bad was it?

  The door to the inner courtyard stood open, as did the door to the house itself, a thick trail of blood leading the way. Kallista's steps slowed from their first rush, as if she feared what she would find at the trail's end.

  Or as if she knew already and didn't want to see it.

  Torchay moved ahead, taking point against any danger that might lie ahead, leaving Obed and Leyja to deal with that which might come creeping up from behind. He did not want to see either, but he had to be there, had to be ready for Kallista when she did.

  The bloody trail was smeared across the polished floor by the footsteps that had run through it, slipped in it. It led through the broad entrance hall into the courtyard beyond, lush with greenery and fountains. Torchay drew both his swords as he entered, damning himself as an idiot for not doing it sooner.

  The crunch of his footsteps on gravel brought Fox's head up, but not his sword. His knowing would have told him who approached.

  “Don't let her come.” Fox's voice sounded broken. Candlelight gleamed off the bright gold of his hair.

  “You think I could stop her?” Torchay tried to see through the flickering shadows. “Is it safe? Anyone coming?"

  “No one close enough yet to matter.” Fox flipped his sword hilt in his hand, turning the double-edged, magic-forged blade over. He did it again and again, almost spinning the grip in his hand. He obviously wanted to kill, but had no target in view.

  Torchay glanced over his shoulder. Obed was with Kallista, holding her up, talking non-stop in her ear. He wouldn't change her mind, but he might slow her down. Torchay took a deep breath, then wished he hadn't because the sharp coppery smell of blood permeated everything, overpowering even the flowers’ perfume with its terrible scent.

  He walked forward along the path, until he stood next to Fox twirling his sword. There, on the white limestone paving, lay two bodies. The Habadra Khori lay crumpled near a table and chair. The table held a tray filled with refreshments and a wine glass tipped on its side. Red wine spilled across the table and dripped onto the hem of the Habadra's white dress, staining her feet scarlet.

  Blood pooled, deep and still spreading, around Stone's sprawled body. Viyelle knelt in the midst of it, holding on to his head, despair and horror in every line of her bowed body. She looked up at Torchay, tears flowing unchecked down her face, as they flowed down Fox's, down Torchay's.

  “I can't make it stay,” she said. “When I let go, his head rolls. It won't stay."

  Oh Goddess. Torchay dropped to his knees—they wouldn't hold him. The blood splashed a little when he fell in it.

  “Don't let her come!"

  Fox's shout had to mean Kallista had entered the courtyard. Torchay struggled to collect himself, to rise, to get out of his ilias's spilled blood, but he couldn't. Oh, Goddess, Stone.

  If he was so shattered by this, what would happen when Kallista saw?

  The thud of many running feet and Fox's lack of reaction told Torchay their own troops took command of the courtyard. He had to get control of himself, had to think what to do next. He tried again to stand, and lost his balance, put his hand down to catch himself—into Stone's cooling blood.

  Torchay threw himself aside to retch in the bushes. Then Joh was there, helping him up, handing him his swords. Aisse, Kallista and Leyja knelt with Viyelle, the four women embracing as they wept for their lost lover and friend, and suddenly, Torchay was glad he had fallen.

  They all had, even Obed just now struggling to his feet, all of them stained with the blood of their ilias.

  “Keldrey,” Torchay said. “He should be here."

  “He's been sent for.” Joh gripped Torchay's arm, though his legs would support him now. Torchay turned his hand so he could grip Joh's wrist in return. If it weren't for the continuing likelihood of danger, he would hold on to more than just arms. Their ilias was dead.

  Slaughtered.

  “Someone comes,” Fox said. “Many of them. Strangers."

  “Stay sharp,” the escort captain called out. “But stay calm. This isn't our house."

  The warning was apt, because the new arrivals erupted into the
courtyard with a rattle of weapons, their tattooed faces stark and eerie in the torchlight. Behind them a woman ran barefoot, her hair falling loose down her back over her simple lavender dress. Perhaps ten years younger than Kallista, she had the same square jaw as the Habadra.

  Torchay slid one of his swords into the upper scabbard on his back so that he held only one instead of two in the same hand. This could get bad quickly.

  “What is happening here? How dare you invade this House with armed men!” The woman burst through her troop of champions to confront the men standing in the path—Torchay, Joh, Fox.

  “You wish to know what is happening?” Kallista's voice rang out and they parted to let her through. Torchay let go Joh's arm and stepped up close behind her, into his place.

  “Murder,” Kallista said. “Murder has happened here, and that is why I dare. I am Kallista Reinine, Godstruck of Adara. Who are you?"

  Torchay touched the small of her back. He could sometimes calm her that way, when her temper was on the edge.

  The woman drew herself up as straight and proud as Kallista. “I am Chani, heir to Habadra. Who is murdered?"

  Kallista shuddered. Then she bowed, deeply, in the Daryathi way. “I share your grief. May the One hold you in her hands through this time.” She stepped back, to the side of the path, Torchay wheeling with her in a sort of military maneuver. Fox and Joh stepped aside, revealing the whole grisly tableau to the Habadra heir—the new Head of Habadra Line.

  With a keening cry, Habadra Chani ran forward, splashing through Stone's blood, and fell to her knees. She bowed over her mother's body, her hands hovering as if afraid to touch.

  Obed eased past Fox and Joh to stand on Kallista's other side, causing the Habadra champions to raise their weapons, which had the Adaran troops rattling theirs. The Adaran muskets had a much greater chance of harming someone by accident than did the Habadran swords, and Torchay tensed.

  “Stand down!” Kallista called half a moment before Torchay would have. “We have all lost someone here."