LC02 Crystal Flame

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  The second wedding ceremony was most unusual. Trade marriages occasionally became permanent, but such events were rare. The Polarity Advisor called in this time was the same one who had performed the first ceremony. He was secretly pleased that his assessment of the bride and groom had proven accurate. They were, indeed, excellent counterpoints to each other. He formalized the marriage into a permanent arrangement without a qualm.

  This wedding celebration was far more elaborate than the first. The hall was filled with a glittering crowd. The presence of the rich and powerful had a sobering influence on some of the guests whose tendency was to become rowdy in such circumstances. So far, for example, there had been no facetious remarks about the steel of Countervail. Kalena was grateful. She was fairly certain Ridge would have taken exception.

  He had worn black to this second, more glittering celebration. Unrelieved black. Not just a cloak of the dark stuff, but also shirt, trousers and boots. Kalena had not questioned his choice, but she sensed it had not been a casual decision. Nor was it based on her own color selection. Not this time.

  She herself had chosen to wear a red wedding cloak again. But this time she wore it over a tunic of beautifully embroidered yellow sarsilk, trousers of emerald green and soft velvet slippers. With the profit she had made by selling a portion of her share of the Sand, Kalena had been able to afford to indulge herself in her second set of wedding clothes. She had insisted on paying herself, overriding Ridge’s objections with a smile. But she couldn’t stop him from buying her the wedding gift he claimed he owed her in exchange for his embroidered shirts.

  Ridge’s long-delayed wedding gift gleamed on Kalena’s left hand tonight. It was a ring of beautiful, costly Talon Pass crystal. When Ridge had slipped it onto her finger, he had told her the color of the stones matched her eyes.

  Fingering the ring with an absent gesture of uneasiness, Kalena glanced around the room, glad of the few moments of peace she was enjoying. She wanted time to think. It was the first time she had been back in Quintel’s house since she and Ridge had arrived in Crosspurposes. She had not even seen Quintel until this evening.

  As soon as they had ridden into view of the town, Ridge had told her he wanted privacy for both of them. He did not take her to Quintel’s house. He had arranged accommodations at an inn that first night back before going to report to his employer. Kalena had made no protest. She didn’t particularly wish to see the trade baron. The sight of him would always be a reminder of her personal failure. She had no wish to kill him now, but then, she never had. She just didn’t want to spend too much time with him.

  That night when he had returned late from his debriefing with Quintel, Ridge had lain awake for a long time staring at the ceiling. Finally, he had announced that they would be staying at the inn until they could find a house of their own.

  Kalena had spent the next few days interviewing agents who had properties to sell or lease. Eventually she had settled on a charming little villa overlooking the river Ridge had taken one look, pronounced himself satisfied, and scrawled his name on the necessary papers. The deal was closed. Kalena had set up housekeeping in the first home of which she was truly mistress.

  Several days later, convinced she had her home under control, Kalena began talking to the leaders of the Healers’ Guild about the possibility of being taken on as an apprentice. Soon thereafter, she was assigned to three Healers, all experts in various branches of the healing arts, who were willing to undertake instruction.

  Tonight Kalena was as proud of the tiny brazier and pouch of Sand that dangled from her belt as she was of the green crystal ring Ridge had given her in honor of the occasion.

  As she stood amid the swirling, glittering, laughing crowd Kalena told herself that everything should have been perfect, but she knew that was not the case.

  Quintel had disappeared first from the festivities. Ridge had vanished a short time later. Kalena had watched both of them leave, her intuition sending prickles of alarm through her. The words of her aunt’s Far Seeing prophecy suddenly blazed in her mind: Quintel will die the night of your wedding.

  Kalena was suddenly, coldly, frightened. With blinding clarity, the truth forced its way into her mind; a truth that was based on an intuitive knowledge she had been deliberately suppressing for days. Perhaps she had ignored the inner certainty for Ridge’s sake. But now she realized that Ridge was fully aware of the same truth. Being Ridge, he had decided to act on his knowledge. It was not in him to sidestep such a harsh reality. How long had he known? Kalena wondered. Probably since their return to Crosspurposes. He had kept the knowledge to himself while he made his plans. Tonight was the night he had chosen to act.

  With an almost silent cry of concern that no one in the hall heard, Kalena set down her goblet and slipped away to follow her husband. She would not let him face this alone. He was her husband. She would be at his side when the inevitable confrontation took place.

  Out in the garden, Ridge glanced at the moonlight dancing on the rainstone path. Symmetra was almost full again, her red glow lighting the night. It seemed to him that the color on the rain-stones was particularly bright this evening. It reminded him of blood.

  The servant carrying Quintel’s measure of Encana wine was mildly astonished, but not alarmed when Ridge stepped into the House lord’s chambers from the colonnaded walkway. If he thought it strange for the groom to have abandoned the wedding festivities, he was far too well trained to remark on the matter.

  “I’ll take that in to Quintel.” Ridge calmly held out his hand for the tray with its chased goblet. He anticipated no trouble and he had none.

  “As you wish, Trade Master.” The servant hesitated only slightly before handing over the tray with a small bow. Ridge was a familiar figure in the household. All were aware that Quintel trusted his Fire Whip more than he trusted any other man on the Northern Continent, including his servants. The man turned and disappeared down a corridor.

  Ridge glanced down at the wine as the servant vanished. He thought about Kalena’s reckless plans the night of the trade marriage ceremony. Ridge flinched, then deliberately pushed the memory from his mind and pulled the cord to ring the bell inside Quintel’s sound insulated study.

  A moment later the bell on Ridge’s side of the door chimed once, and he knew Quintel had approved his entry into the inner sanctum.

  Ridge walked into the study and closed the door behind him, but did not lock it. Quintel was seated on a chair in front of a black stone desk, his back to the door. The study looked much as it had the last time Ridge saw it. He had never liked the chamber. He didn’t like rooms without windows, and this one had none. Fresh air was provided from the outside by a complicated system of ducts. Quintel insisted on absolute privacy. The hearth in one corner had a small fire in it. The room was lined floor-to-ceiling with books and manuscripts. Some of them, Ridge knew, were very old and handwritten. Others were more recent and had been printed on the new presses that had been invented a few years ago. One locked chest contained Quintel’s most precious volumes.

  The book collection was extensive, and reflected the tastes and interests of a brilliant, questing, restless mind. The section on mathematics was particularly large, as was that containing the studies of the ancient legends of the Northern Continent and Zantalia itself. Ridge had read some of the books on these shelves. Quintel had seen to it that his Fire Whip did not embarrass himself or his lord for want of a decent education.

  “Your wine, Quintel.” Ridge stood quietly, holding his burden and waiting for the other man to turn around.

  Quintel slowly put down the plumed writing instrument he had been using, but he didn’t turn his head. He sat gazing at the swirling motif that had been engraved into the stone of the desk. He was dressed as usual in black, very much as Ridge was dressed. “So, Fire Whip, you have grown bored with weddings? I can’t say I blame you. You’ve been through a number of them lately, haven’t you?”

  “This second ceremony wasn’t mean
t to happen, was it, Quintel?”

  Ridge thought he saw Quintel tense momentarily, and then the older man at last turned around. He studied Ridge for a long while, his near-black eyes unfathomable. Ridge saw a bitter weariness in the lines of Quintel’s aristocratic features that he did not remember seeing before he had left on the journey to the Heights of Variance.

  “No,” Quintel admitted at last. “There should have been no need for tonight’s ceremony.”

  “Because Kalena and I were never meant to return from our journey.” Ridge set the tray down on a small table near the door and then straightened again, his hand resting idly on the handle of the sintar. The two men faced each other across the short expanse of the room.

  “You know it all?” Quintel’s voice was as expressionless as his eyes.

  “I figured it out on the way back from the Variance Mountains.”

  Quintel nodded as if mildly pleased with the show of intelligence. “Does the woman know?”

  “Kalena knows nothing. I didn’t tell her what I knew had to be the truth.”

  “Sensible. This is a matter between men. There is no need to involve a mere female.”

  “You were willing enough to involve her when you wanted the Light Key, Quintel. You were more than willing to see her killed.”

  Quintel shrugged. “It couldn’t be helped. If it comes to that, you must have figured out that I was willing to sacrifice you, too.”

  “I’m here because of what you tried to do to Kalena, not because you used me. She is my wife, Quintel.”

  “I was so close to the answers, Fire Whip.” One hand clenched briefly into a fist of frustration. “By the Stones, I was close. I needed the right female and all the signs indicated she was it. You I had selected years ago and had kept in readiness.”

  “You needed a man who could control the fire in the steel of Countervail.”

  Quintel smiled wryly. “The ancient legends were right when they claimed that the Dark Key could only be handled by one who could make the steel of Countervail glow with fire. There are few such men in any generation, Ridge. For years I tracked down every rumor of such a male. I wanted a young man, one I could bind to me with ties, of loyalty while I searched for the right female. When I found you on the streets of Countervail, you seemed perfect for my purposes. A tough, intelligent, violent little bastard. No family ties to conflict with the ones I intended to impose. And you rewarded me with such loyalty, Fire Whip. It was amazing, you know. I really did come to trust you completely. I had to take risks with you, of course. Sending you out on the various trade route clean up missions was dangerous. I might have lost you to a bandit’s dart or a well aimed sintar, but I needed a man who had been well honed. I needed to make certain you retained the sharp edge I would need when I finally was able to use you. Only real danger can give a man that kind of edge.”

  “And Kalena?”

  “I needed an untrained Healer, or so the old books claimed. One who had the Talent, but who had not had the Talent channeled in specific directions. According to the old manuscripts, the one who wielded the Light Key must have raw and untapped Talent. The Key needs to feed on it and direct it. A trained Healer could not adapt her skills. The conflict between the Key’s demands and what the training had done to her would have killed her outright before she could take up the Key. Like your ability with the steel, the Talent is a unique gift. It is a curious product of this world, one the Dawn Lords did not possess because they were newcomers to this land. But they soon began to see occasional signs of it in their children. Somehow they discovered that native born generations to come would continue to produce a few people endowed with certain odd gifts. They knew that somehow the talent for fire and the talent for healing would be needed to handle the Keys. The Healer’s Talent is far more common than yours, Fire Whip, but most Healers are discovered early and put into training. It is very rare to find one who has not had the training and a great deal of exposure to Sand smoke. It proved even more difficult to devise a way to get control of her. What decent family would have given up a daughter with the Talent to marriage with a bastard such as you, Fire Whip? It was necessary that both the male and the female be bonded together before they took up the Keys. And then the damn Healers closed the Sand route, making things exceedingly difficult for me with the local Town Council. The right woman was needed, they told my traders. Well, I agreed with them for reasons of my own. I was damn tired of waiting. Then the offer of a trade marriage with her niece arrived from some country Healer in Interlock. It looked as if the forces of fate had finally come together. I knew the moment for which I had planned had finally arrived.”

  “How did you know Kalena had the Talent?”

  “It was a calculated guess based on years of studying the way certain characteristics are passed down through families. By all the rules I have explored and catalogued, the niece of a Healer related by blood should have the skill. Stones only know why Kalena was not trained from an early age, but I was getting desperate. I didn’t have time to question my good fortune. Time was running out for me, Fire Whip. The years have been passing more and more swiftly. A lifetime’s work and study was being wasted. I had to take a chance.”

  “The Cult of the Eclipse was operated by you. You were the master that Griss kept referring to who never appeared.”

  Quintel looked at him. “I was there on the day the two Keys were brought together. I would not have missed the moment I had waited and planned for all these years. I was one of those who stood in the glass chamber.”

  “You stood there with the others and waited for Kalena and I to kill each other.” Ridge was distantly astounded that his temper was so calm. But this was not a time for rage. This was business, the kind of business he had engaged in before in his career with Quintel. He was good at this kind of thing.

  “There was another risk I had to take when I brought you and Kalena together. It was that the two of you would form bonds that were stronger than the power of the Keys. It was a delicate balancing act I tried to carry out, you see. The two of you had to be bound together sufficiently to ensure that Kalena would go back to the Healers’ valley for the Light Key in order to rescue you. Some bonding between the two of you was also needed to allow both of you to handle the Keys. The mathematics of the situation are formidable, I assure you. The equation was highly complex and involved emotions as well as a balance of power. I worked for years on it.”

  “But you hoped the tie between us would not be so strong that we could resist the urge to kill each other when the Keys took over, was that it?”

  “You are very astute, Fire Whip. If all had gone as planned, the energy that would have been released from the Dark Key would have been enough to destroy the Light Key.” Quintel continued speaking, his voice sounding oddly hollow and lifeless. “I was certain the Dark would overcome the Light. For a while all power would have been drained from the Dark Key, and I would have had time to study it, time to learn how to control it myself. I was meant to be the one who could unlock its secrets and the Secrets of the Stones.” He glanced at the locked chest of ancient books. “Some of those volumes are in the language of the Dawn Lords. I taught myself to read their tongue to some extent. More importantly, I was able to decipher their mathematics. Absolutely brilliant. Far beyond anything our own mathematicians have yet developed. There are books in that chest that exist nowhere else in the world, Fire Whip. I have the only copies. I have paid dearly for them.”

  “The price you have paid for some of them was the blood of others, wasn’t it, Quintel? I myself helped you obtain some, didn’t I? Although I didn’t know it at the time. I’ve killed for you, Quintel. I thought I was protecting your precious trade routes when I did it, but there were times when all I was really doing was paving the way for you to get your hands on another of these dangerous books. I know that now.”

  Quintel’s expression tensed with a violent emotion. Ridge watched him warily. He had never seen the trade baron in a rage. Quintel
had always been the most composed, the most coldly, cynically controlled of men. But there was something burning in his dark eyes tonight that Ridge had never seen before. It had nothing to do with composure or control.

  “You were born to serve me, Fire Whip, and you have failed me.”

  “I wasn’t born to serve you, Quintel. I realized during the trip back from the Heights of Variance that I was born to kill you.”

  “Impossible. You can’t do it.” Quintel’s scorn was heavy.

  “I’m the only man who can,” Ridge countered softly.

  “Even if it were possible, it would mean your death, too, have you forgotten? Your new bride will find herself all alone in a world that is very hard on a woman alone. Your anger is legendary, Fire Whip, but you are not equally famous for your brilliant thinking when you are in the grip of that anger, are you?”

  “No,” Ridge admitted calmly, “but unfortunately for you, I’m not angry tonight. I have thought it all out and I promise you I have no intention of leaving Kalena to fend for herself. I’m about to become a father, Quintel. I must build a House that is suitable for the babe and his mother.”

  “Fool. How do you propose to kill me without dooming yourself as a murderer?”

  “I have planned well. Your death will look like an accident. And there is no one in this town or the whole of the Northern Continent who will call it by any other name. Everyone knows how loyal I am to you. No one will dream of accusing me of being your murderer.” Ridge’s fingers tightened around the sintar. “It’s time to go, Quintel. You and I have a trip to make tonight.”

  “And if I choose not to go with you?” Quintel’s quiet rage was laced with a strange amusement.

  “Then I’ll knock you out and carry you.” Ridge was unconcerned with that end of the matter.

  “You think I will go tamely with you, Fire Whip?” Quintel scoffed. “I told you once, you were born to serve me. Do you want to know something else? I should have been the one who had the power to control the steel of Countervail. Do you hear me, bastard? It should have been me who could make that sintar glow fire red. I was meant to control it just as I was meant to control the Key itself!”