by Tanya Huff
Chapter Seven
As the glorious summer drew to an end, a shadow fell on the kingdom. Word came from Riven and Lorn on the western border that Melac's raids had begun again.
"Why do they bother!" roared the king, slamming down his fist and causing the Messenger who'd brought the news to flinch and wonder if she was supposed to know.
"It's fairly obvious, isn't it, Father?" Davan, the heir to the throne, steepled his fingers in an unconscious imitation of his father's habit.
"Melac's armies have gotten so large, the Empire's conquest is moving so fast, that there's no one left to grow food and they must raid us for supplies. "
"That's exactly what they want us to think, " said Mikhail shortly, turning away from a detailed map of the west to face his cousin.
Davan snorted. "Are you still on about that?"
The king, who had been asking a purely rhetorical question brought on by frustration, raised bushy eyebrows at the discussion between his son and his nephew.
"They raid to gather information, " Mikhail insisted, "not grain and cattle.
Those men are soldiers, not brigands. Our land, our people, our way of fighting, is being studied. "
"Studied?" Davan scoffed. "What for? Melac's armies move south and west; the emperor has no intention of attacking us. He tried that once, remember, back in the Lady's time, and was soundly trounced. "
Mikhail shrugged. "We are being studied, " he insisted, wondering why he seemed to be the only one in the country who could see it. "Melac is waiting for something. "
"For what?"
"I wish I knew. Sire, " Mikhail turned to the king, "every year we drive the raiders back, but every year we lose young men and women to Lord Death before their time. The western border is like an open wound that bleeds with the lives of our people. "
"Eloquent, " muttered Davan.
Mikhail ignored him and once again made the plea he'd made yearly since taking up arms. "Melac's Empire stretches far to the southwest, but it is directed still from the towers of the old capital, not three days' march from our western border. Let me raise the country, Sire. I'll destroy the head of the Empire and see that Melac never bleeds us again. "
And, as every year, the king denied the petition.
"If Melac ever turns all of its armies against us, we stand no chance; Ardhan as a country would be wiped from the memory of man. These raids are a small price to pay for the survival of our nation. Someday, Melac will have to be dealt with, but there will be no war in this land while I am king. "
By the time you're not king, there'II be no men left to fight, Mikhail thought bitterly. He knew Davan held the same beliefs as his uncle; there would be no war when Davan was king either. It looked as if the wound on the border would bleed for generations more.
"I understand how you feel, Mikhail, " the king said kindly, and he thought he did for his brother and brother's wife, Mikhail's parents, had died in a border raid. "I will not risk war, but I do have plans to strengthen our defense. "
Mikhail choked back a final plea, bowed to his liege and left the room. It would, he knew, do no good to argue further. In years of trying he'd convinced neither king nor heir of what appeared so obvious to him. Both had a blind spot concerning Melac that he'd never been able to breach. He could only cause as much damage to the enemy as possible with the relatively few men they'd given him and hope, when war finally came, Ardhan would not be taken totally by surprise.
Leaving his feet to find their own way to the training yards, the Commander of the Elite wrapped himself in battle plans and troop deployments and almost missed seeing Tayer sitting with the Duke of Belkar's wife in a sunny corner of one of the small gardens.
Almost.
All thought of battle, of war, of Melac, vanished. It had been days, he realized, since he'd seen her and only the Mother-creator knew how long it would be until he saw her again. He stopped and stared, imprinting her on his mind; the sunlight dancing through the gold in her hair, her lips slightly curving, the soft swell of her breasts beneath ivory silk. This would be a vision to carry him through the long days and nights ahead.
Tayer, oblivious, continued dangling a blossom over the chubby face of Belkar's infant heir. Lady Belkar, perhaps feeling the weight of Mikhail's gaze, looked up, started, smiled, and beckoned him closer.
"Milord Mikhail, " she greeted him graciously when he approached. "I'd thought you on the border by now. "
"Soon, milady. " He bowed over her hand. "Tomorrow. "
"Tomorrow. . . . We'll miss not having you about the court. " She peered sideways at her companion, her tone carefully neutral. "Won't we, Tayer?"
Slowly, Tayer raised her head and Mikhail's heart gave a sudden lurch. He gritted his teeth and forced a friendly smile through the longing.
"Oh, yes, " she said, "it'll be. . . different. . . around here without Mikhail. "
Different. He could only hope she'd even notice he was gone. Then a sudden flush of jealousy caused his hands to curl into fists-she'd notice all right, for without his watching, who would stop her from riding off to be with. . . Him? The thing she'd met in the Grove. The creature that had bewitched her. The thought had occurred to Tayer as well; he'd grown up with her, he knew the speculative expression she now wore.
Lady Belkar looked from one to the other and felt like shaking them both.
Mikhail stood staring down at Tayer, longing, pain, and anger mixed in about equal proportions on his face. Tayer sat staring off into the distance, longing and things harder to pin down mixed on hers. Not being privy to cither's thoughts, Lady Belkar jumped to entirely the wrong conclusion on everything save what Mikhail longed for, and that had been an open secret about the court for almost a year. The tension thickened and she wondered if she should speak, then the baby on her lap suddenly howled and the moment was lost.
"Oh, dear, he's wet. " Murmuring soothing sounds into the baby's hair, she stood, and placing her free hand on the rigid muscles of Mikhail's arm said:
"Perhaps you would walk me from the garden, milord?"
With an effort, Mikhail drew his eyes from Tayer and managed a jerky nod.
At the edge of the garden, they paused and looked back.
"You should speak to her, Mikhail, " Lady Belkar said softly. "You simply can not go on like this. Neither of you can. "
"Speak to her of what?" He was amazed how steady his voice sounded. Surely the turmoil that seethed beneath the surface should show more.
Lady Belkar sighed. "Speak to her of how you feel. Tell her you love her. " At his sudden startled expression, she added. "Everyone knows. "
"Everyone?" he asked.
She smiled at his tone of stunned disbelief and reached up to pat him lightly on the cheek. "Everyone except Tayer. " Then, under the prompting screams of her son, she left.
Mikhail looked again at the distant figure of his cousin, his love, his brows drawn together as he considered how he felt. Perhaps it was time for him to speak.
But he didn't. And the next" morning he left for the western border.
Over the last few weeks of summer, and the early weeks of fall, Tayer almost daily answered the call from the Grove. The summons beat in her blood, day and night, and left unanswered too long it grew until it filled her every moment and she thought she would go crazy with need. When she was missed, all assumed she was with Hanna. Hanna, for reasons of her own, kept silent.
The day Mikhail returned, with a limp and a new resolution in his heart, Tayer was not in the palace. Although the need to ride after her beat at his thoughts-and he had no doubt of where she could be found-his duties kept him tied to his men and his reports.
But he was in the stableyard when she rode in.
He opened his mouth to tell her, the words cut and polished over long nights alone in his tent when she was the only thing on his mind, in his dreams. Then he saw her face and the words shattered. He had seen that e
xpression too many times in his mirror to mistake it now. Tayer was a woman very deeply in love.
He had waited too long.
He should leave, he knew, hide somewhere and lick his wounds. He hadn't thought he could be in so much pain and still live. But he stayed. Whether to hurt her in return or hurt himself further, he wasn't sure.
"Where are your guards, " he growled as she swung from the saddle.
"The guards rode with you. "
"Well then, servants, " he snapped. "You know you're not to ride out alone. "
"I can take care of myself, " Tayer sighed. "Please, get out of my way. " She pushed past him and led
Dancer into the stable. A groom came forward, took one look over her shoulder at the glowering prince, and retreated with the mare as quickly as he was able. Tayer sighed again and slowly turned.
Mikhail noticed that in the two months he'd been gone, Tayer's face had lost all memory of childhood. Its beauty was startling; the curve of her cheek was a song, but sorrow lay close to the surface and the sparkle in her eyes had been replaced by the reflected glow of an other world. With one hand he held her shoulder in an iron grasp and with the other he lifted a red-gold leaf from her hair.
"So, it's not all happiness in the Sacred Grove, " he snarled, and crushed the leaf to powder.
Tayer met his gaze and he flinched before the radiance.
"No, " she said. "It is not. "
The pain in her voice hit Mikhail like a bucket of cold water, washing his anger away and leaving him trembling. He released her shoulder and took an unsteady step back. He wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her, but he feared her reaction. He didn't think he could stand it if she pushed him away.
"I'm sorry, " he said finally.
She touched his cheek gently as she passed.
"So am I. "
He watched her walk away and could think of no reason to follow.
The next morning, a great shouting in the courtyard dragged Mikhail up from an uneasy sleep. Briefly he wondered why he felt so rotten, then he remembered: he'd lost Tayer, lost any hope of her ever returning his love, and had tried to forget in every tavern in the city. The memories of the taverns were dim, but the memory of the pain was still sharp and clear. Holding his throbbing head, he stumbled to the window to see what all the noise was about. From the pennants and the livery, the seething mass of men, women and horses appeared to be a Royal Envoy from Halda, a small country that shared borders with both Ardhan and Melac. As Mikhail watched, the Lord Chamberlain appeared, ushered the men and women ceremoniously inside, and had the horses removed to the stables.
"They arranged it while you were away. "
Mikhail turned. Hanna had come into the room and now perched on the edge of his bed.
"Arranged what?" he demanded, pouring some wine to clear the fog from his head.
Hanna looked down at her entwined fingers.
"Tayer's joining. "
"What!" Mikhail threw the goblet to the floor, dove across the room, and yanked his sister to her feet.
"Tayer's joining, " Hanna repeated with remarkable calm, considering that she had just been shaken vigorously. "The king has arranged for her to marry the Crown Prince of Halda. "
"But why?"
"For mutual support against Melac obviously. The crown prince has no sisters and Tayer is the only daughter the king has. "
"Why so quickly? These arrangements usually take months. Or years. "
Hanna looked pityingly up at her brother. "The king has seen the way you look at Tayer. This is a very important state joining and he wants it done before she has a chance to fall in love with you. And she has been acting rather strangely of late. "
Mikhail suddenly remembered the king speaking of plans to strengthen Ardhan's defense. This, then, was what he had meant.
"What does Tayer say about it?"
"I doubt she was asked. Princesses are expected to go along with this sort of thing as part of their duty to the kingdom. Besides, what could she say; I can't join with Halda because I'm in love with a hallucination?"
"No. " Mikhail set his jaw and dropped Hanna back onto the bed. "I won't allow it. " He dug his breeches out of a pile of discarded clothes and yanked them on. "I won't allow it. " He couldn't believe he'd almost given up without a fight. It wasn't over yet, of that he was suddenly certain.
"There's not much you can do, " Hanna said quietly. "And Tayer's gone. I just came from her room. "
layer had ridden out before dawn according to the stable boy, but he had no idea of which way she'd gone.
"Beggin' your pardon, sir, " he apologized to Mikhail, "but I ain't the one to be stoppin' the princess if n she wants to go, and I ain't the one to be keepin' watch of where she went. "
Mikhail knew exactly where Tayer was and he knew if he didn't catch her before she entered the forest he'd probably never be able to find her. To the Grove, pounded the hoofs of his galloping horse. To the Grove, pounded his heart. To the Grove.
When he reached the Lady's Wood, Dancer stood grazing in the long grass of the meadow, but Tayer was nowhere in sight.
Leaving his horse with the mare, Mikhail drew his sword and stepped beneath the trees. He was no longer truly in control of what he did. A force he couldn't explain drove him and he only knew that he had to find Tayer.
He began to run, crashing through the underbrush, using his sword to clear a path. All logic, all woodcraft, left him.
Sword first and panting, he stumbled into the Sacred Grove.
The birches wore their autumn dress of old gold and bronze, their leaves whirling free, carried and caressed by the breeze. In the midst of this erotic dance,. stood a couple in a close embrace. The woman was Tayer. The man. . .
Aware of the intruder, they turned in each other's arms to face him.
Mikhail didn't see the hand extended toward him, nor the welcoming smile. All he saw was Tayer gazing up into the leaf-green eyes of the creature who held her. Throwing aside his sword, he charged.
The two men were matched in height, but Mikhail was heavier and fighting from the depths of his pain. The suddenness of his attack allowed him to get his hands around Varkell's throat and the muscles of his arms bulged as he tried to snap the other's neck. This thing had taken Tayer from him.
Pushing Tayer to safety, Varkell swept Mikhail's feet out from under him and they crashed to the ground.
The fall and his own weight broke Mikhail's hold, but he quickly gained another. From a distance, a saner part of his mind cried out that this would solve nothing, but he couldn't, wouldn't stop. Varkell made no attempt to return the attack, merely defending himself against Mikhail's assaults. A blocking elbow hit Mikhail in the mouth and his lip, caught between tooth and bone, split. As he jerked his head free, six drops of blood arced away-where they landed, the grass died. They thrashed about the clearing, tearing great gouges out of the velvet sod, first gold head on top, then silver.
Finally Varkell gained the top and kept it. Mikhail looked up and fell into the other world that burned in Varkell's eyes. Seeing what Tayer loved, and loving it himself, in spite of himself, he turned his head and closed his eyes in defeat. Tears seeped out through his lashes and left glistening trails down his cheeks. There was nothing left but the pain. There would never be anything but the pain.
"I yield, " he said softly. "You have won. "
Varkell stood, but Mikhail didn't move. He wasn't sure he could. He knew he didn't want to. The peace of the Grove, too deep to be shattered by the battle just ended, began to lap at the edges of his soul.
"Mikhail. " The voice was a summons impossible to deny. "Look at me. "
Mikhail opened his eyes. He saw, standing before him, a tall young man with silver-white hair and leaf-green eyes. The other-worldliness was gone.
"No, never gone. " Sorrow clouded the words. "Just pushed aside for a time so we can talk. "
"W
ho are you?" Mikhail asked, getting slowly to his feet. "What are you?"
Varkell pointed to the young birch in the circle of ancient trees.
"In that spot, amidst the roots of a tree long gone, were buried the bodies of a hamadryad and the mortal man she loved. Out of their love came the Royal House of Ardhan. Out of their bodies and the roots of the holy tree grew the tree you see here. I came from the tree. "
"Are you a god?"
"No, only a messenger. "
Varkell turned and smiled sadly at Tayer. His eyes blazed as she came into his arms. "And, may the Mother help us all, the message has been delivered. "
The look he then turned on Mikhail was far removed from mortal understanding, but a greater part of it held the full weight of pain Tayer had only reflected.
"She carries my child, Mikhail. This is the last time I shall see her. "
"It burns, cousin, " Tayer said softly, "this brightness within and brightness without. I can no longer bear them both. "
Mikhail stared at them. He felt large and stupid. "What can I do?" he asked, knowing he would do whatever they wanted but not knowing what he could possibly do that would help.
"The joining planned for Tayer must not happen. You must join with her yourself. "
"She doesn't love me. "
"No, she doesn't. " Varkell could not lie. "But when I am gone, she will. "
Mikhail looked at Tayer and then within himself. The flame of love he had carried for so long still burned, perhaps now more brightly than ever. Tayer had been chosen for glory; he could love that as well. He nodded and held out his arms.
Walking like one in a dream, Tayer came to him and rested her head against his chest with a sigh. Holding her gently, as if afraid she would break, Mikhail bent and laid his face upon her hair. When he looked up, they were alone in the Grove.
On the ride back to the palace, Mikhail pondered how much to tell the king. In the end, he decided not to mention the Grove. He'd not have believed it himself without proof. As everyone seemed to know of his love for Tayer, Mikhail felt his best chance lay in convincing the king that Tayer cared for him in return, hoping the older man's love for his daughter and his desire to see her happy would cause him to call off the arranged joining.
He glanced at Tayer riding serenely beside him. It could only help that she was so obviously a woman in love.
Hanna met them in the stableyard. "He's been asking for you both, " she told them. "You'd better hurry. He's waiting in the small audience room. "
Mikhail took Tayer's hand and together they went into the palace, Hanna trailing along behind. Heads turned as they passed and the halls filled with rumor. Tayer, listening to the song of another world, didn't hear. Mikhail set his jaw and pretended not to. "Sire, I have to speak with you. " The king looked at his nephew and then at his daughter.
"Yes, " he said dryly. "I should say you do. " His Majesty had not been impressed when Tayer's absence had been discovered and he was less impressed when she showed up five hours later with Mikhail. What must the envoy from Halda be thinking? "Sire, your daughter and I wish to be joined. " Keeping his face carefully noncommittal-he'd been afraid something like this would happen since the first time he'd seen the light in Mikhail's eyes-the king sat down and peered over stceplcd fingers at Tayer. "Is that what you wish, child?"
"Yes, Father. " "This talk of your joining is a little sudden, is it not?"
"If I'd known you were arranging a joining, Sire, I would've spoken sooner, but I was away on the border. . . "
"Defending the country. You grew up in my household, Mikhail, I know your worth. However, nothing prevented Tayer from speaking when I made her aware of my plans. " Although he'd carefully kept Mikhail from finding out, he'd made sure Tayer had no objections before he sent the Messenger to Halda.
Mikhail held his breath and sent a short prayer to the Mother that Tayer remained enough in the world to lie.
"I was unsure of my feelings, Father, " she hesitated then looked almost shyly up at Mikhail. "It wasn't until I saw him on his return that I knew. "
Mikhail smiled at her and gently squeezed her hand. It seemed very small in his and very cold. Then he gave his attention again to the king.
"If Tayer joins with Halda, " the older man said thoughtfully, "Ardhan gains a valuable ally. What does the country gain if she joins with you?"
"The country would gain less, it's true, but you would have comfort in the knowledge that your daughter was happy. Sire. "
The king raised a bushy eyebrow.
"And you don't believe she will be happy in Halda. "
"No, Sire. " Mikhail met his gaze steadily. "If she joins with the Crown Prince of Halda, it will be a joining without love. "
"Do you love her?"
"Oh, yes, Sire! With all my heart!"
Only a fool would doubt the sincerity of Mikhail's response. The king was no fool.
"Tayer?"
For the first time since she had entered the room, for the first time in many months, Tayer looked at her father directly. He drew in his breath sharply under the full impact of her eyes. He couldn't question the love they held-he couldn't know the love was not for Mikhail.
"If love is the way of it, " and he wondered how he could've been so blind to think that Tayer had no more than a sibling's affection for her cousin, "you have my blessing. I will do what I can about Halda. "
"I will join with him, Sire. "
"What?" The king spun around, Mikhail stared at his sister in astonishment, and even Tayer rejoined the world long enough to look surprised.
Hanna got up from the stool where she'd been sitting and stepped forward.
"Hanna, child, I didn't know you were there. "
Hanna smiled strangely. "Yes, Sire, I know. "
"What's this you've said?"
"I am willing to join with the Crown Prince of Halda. If he approves, you'll still have an ally and Tayer will be happy. " The Mother forbid, said her eyes, that Tayer should be unhappy.
"That's a very noble sacrifice you're making for your cousin, " the king began kindly, wishing that either Hanna's mother or his beloved queen still lived.
"And we are all touched that you're willing to put her happiness ahead of yours but. . . "
"I'm not doing it for her, " Hanna explained, wanting someone to understand, just this once. "I'm doing it for me. "
"To go away from your family, to join with a man you've never met. " Mikhail took a step toward his sister, his hands spread in puzzlement. "What is there in that for you?"
"A place of my own, " Hanna answered softly, turning to face him. "Where I am not overlooked. Where I am myself, not Tayer's cousin or Mikhail's sister or the king's niece. You and Tayer have each other, why can't this be for me? All my life I've been the second princess, I'd like to be first for a change. "
The king's heavy brows drew in over his nose and he studied his niece as if seeing her for the first time. "We never knew you felt this way. . . "
"That, " said Hanna, "is part of the problem. Please, Uncle. "
And the king nodded.
"If Halda agrees. . . "
A Messenger was sent and Halda agreed. One unknown princess would do as well as another in the opinion of the crown prince, who had little interest in being joined at all. At the end of a week of state festivities, a proxy joining was held on the dais of the People's Square. Hanna managed to look regal in the ridiculous clothing demanded by the occasion and gave her responses in a strong, clear voice that carried to the meanest viewpoint at the back of the Square.
"I still don't understand why you have to do this, " Mikhail said, as attendants carried her back into the palace and the Great Doors closed.
"If you'd understood, " Hanna told him sharply, removing the cumbersome headdress, "I wouldn't have had to do it. "
Mikhail looked to Tayer for support, but she only smiled sadly and shook her head. With the li
ght she carried had come understanding, but it was far too late to start making amends.
The next day, Hanna left to live with a husband she had never met and, although Mikhail and Tayer both watched until she rode out of sight, she never once looked back.
Tayer and Mikhail were joined by the king in a quiet ceremony; a ceremony they both considered to be unnecessary. In their hearts, they knew they had been joined that day in the Grove. Tayer's condition soon became obvious and her father was delighted.
"The Mother has blessed this union, " he declared, so enchanted by the idea of a grandchild he ignored the unusual aspects of the pregnancy.
For the most part the rest of the court took their cue from the king. Tayer was insulated from gossip and Mikhail heard little of it, for only a fool would speak in Mikhail's presence, but what he heard caused him great uneasiness.
"Tayer?"
With a visible effort, Tayer brought herself back from the light. She smiled at Mikhail, who knelt at her feet, and gently touched the tumbled mane of his hair.
"Tayer, " he hesitated, considered what he was asking and found, with no little surprise, that the question was painless. To think of Tayer with another man would have torn him to pieces, but to think of her with Varkell brought only a renewed sense of wonder. "Tayer, the child you carry, when did you conceive?"
"A month after you left for the border. "
Mikhail cursed beneath his breath and Tayer looked at him in puzzlement.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"When the child is born, the court will know it isn't mine. Your time will be either a month too early or a month too late. " Convincing the court, and her father, that he'd impregnated her before leaving would've been bad enough but nothing compared to what was likely to happen. A royal child was meticulously examined and then presented to the people, making an eight-month He impossible to sustain. He didn't want to think of what Tayer would go through then.
"Don't worry. " She took one of his hands and placed it on the gentle swelling of her stomach. "It has been taken care of. "
And suddenly, Mikhail felt that it had.
Tayer's pregnancy was not an easy one. Throughout the long winter, as the child grew within her, she seemed to fade. Cheekbones cut angles into her face and her hands became thin and frail, almost transparent. She gave all her strength, all her life, to the child. Her eyes still shone as bright, or brighter, but few could meet the unearthly beauty of her gaze. Mikhail, looking beyond the beauty to the glory that consumed her, was himself consumed with worry for his young wife.
Winter finally ended. The grip of ice and cold released and the first greens of spring began to appear.
The time came when, by Mikhail's count, Tayer should deliver; and then it passed. Taken care of, yes, but Mikhail worried that Tayer would not be able to bear the burden much longer. Every day he carried her out to the gardens, but it did little good, for every day she grew weaker. At long last, on a cloudless summer afternoon, the pains began.
The midwives expected trouble. The princess' hips were narrow and she wasn't strong. The birth, they feared, would rip her apart.
"And if it comes to it, " sighed the younger as they scrubbed their hands, "who do we save, the mother or the child?"
"Both, " came the reply and the voice held conviction that even Lord Death would have hesitated to challenge.
When everything was ready, they let Mikhail into the room. He sat by the bed and held Tayer's limp hand in his. Her grip tightened and she whimpered. He doubted she knew he was there. He'd never felt so helpless.
"Isn't there anything I can do?"
"Give her what strength you can, milord, " said one of the women, laying a cool cloth on Tayer's brow "This isn't going to be easy. "
But the babe had other ideas. As if wanting to make up for all the trouble that had gone before, she slid effortlessly into the world and greeted the day with a hearty bellow.
"A girl, milord, milady. A fine, healthy girl. "
Mikhail looked at the bloody, wrinkled bundle at Tayer's breast and touched a tiny cheek with one massive finger.
"She's beautiful, " he whispered.
A breeze came through the window, bringing with it the scent of trees and forest loam. It gently fanned the mother and child.
"We shall call her Crystal, " Tayer said, looking down at her tiny daughter,
"For the light shines through her. "
When Tayer raised exhausted eyes to Mikhail's face his heart sang with joy for though the other world he left her they still shone with light. . . only now, last, as Varkell had promised, the light was for him|
Seated on a moss-covered log, just outside the Sacred Grove, Doan waited. The seed had been planted and nurtured. All that remained of Varkell was the tree and the child. The tree was an empty vessel. The child had her own guardian in Mikhail. One last thing and he could return to the caverns.
"So, little gardener, your job is done. "
Doan's eyes narrowed as the speaker sat down beside him. The sapphire robes should have looked rediculously out of place in the depths of the Lady's Wood; as it was, the Wood looked out of place about the robes. Doan suppressed the urge to move away, "I felt your presence, " he growled. "I waited. You're too late. "
Slender fingers ran through red-gold curls and two full lips curved. "But I came to talk to you. "
"Why?" the dwarf demanded.
One wickedly arched brow rose. "Why to thank you for being such a sturdy guardian, of course. "
Doan hooked his thumbs behind his belt and glared, "I guarded against you, not for you. "
"But I never had any intention of interfering. " He stretched out long legs and settled himself more comfortably against a protruding branch. "I'm a game player, always have been. Your seedling is likely to be the last worthy game I'll be able to play. "
"Last game?"
"Don't get your hopes up, little man. She can't defeat me, although I won't begin until she thinks she has a chance. "
"You'll stay away from the child?"
"I just said so, didn't I?"
"You lie. "
"Yes, " he agreed, "I do. "
Doan could not decide if this amiable admission was general or specific so he left it. It was enough that the enemy saw only the most obvious scenario, that his vanity blinded him to possibilities other than outright confrontation. "Was that all you wanted to say?" he demanded after the silence stretched to uncomfortable lengths.
"That you've been more than useless here? Yes. "
"You came all this way just to annoy me?"
He smiled lazily. "Basically. It's a hobby of mine, annoying people. "
A twitch. Another. Then Doan threw back his head
and laughed. He couldn't help himself. It was, after all, a hobby of his as well. When his eyes stopped gleaming, he was alone on the log.
I almost liked him, he realized, wiping moisture
from his cheeks. Mother-creator help you child; he is more dangerous than we thought.
Interlude Two
Tayer's baby grew into a child, not outwardly different from other children.
She learned to walk early, and then to run. Soon, the entire court, the Palace Guard, the Elite, and a small army of servants were watching out for her as she frequently appeared in places she had no right to be, her harrassed parents and nurses often with no idea of where she'd got to. She learned to talk late, but when at last she did, she spoke in full sentences; never resorting to baby prattle, and never hesitant about expressing her opinion.
Green eyes wide and oddly mature, she backed many an adult away| from their views.
She was pampered and much indulged and proved without doubt that a child cannot be spoiled by too much love.
For ten years she grew as other children did. And if she moved a little faster, threw herself into childhood with an almost desperate enthusiasm, involved herself in every
thing she did with a thoroughness and single minded purpose, it was easy for the adults surrounding her to miss seeing. Or seeing, misunderstand.
Toward the end of her tenth year she quieted and, began to spend long hours with Tayer in the gardens leaning against her mother's knees. She went to Mikhail's office off the training-yards and stood, cheek pressed to his shoulder, watching as he worked. At odd times she stood, head cocked, as though she listened to words carried on the wind.
Two days after her eleventh birthday, the centaur came, appearing suddenly in the garden where Tayer and Mikhail sat with their daughter. . "Crystal. " His voice was the rumble of a thousand galloping hoofs. "I have come for you. "
Slowly, Crystal pulled herself from Tayer's nerveless fingers, and walked forward until she stood within the shadow of the massive creature. Then she turned and faced her parents.
Whatever protests they might have made washed away in the flood of radiance from her eyes. For the first time in eleven years, they were forced to confront who her father had been; not the mortal man who'd loved and raised her but an enchanted being of power and light. Still, Mikhail might have found the strength to deny it had the child not raised her eyes to his. Once before he had looked into the other world they showed and that time as this, he'd admitted defeat. His angry questions choked off and became a pained nod.
Tayer dropped to her knees and held wide her arms. Crystal hesitated a moment then ran to her mother's embrace. The light poured from them both and Mikhail, refusing to look away, was temporarily blinded by it. Then his arms were full of a warm bundle smelling of sunshine and hidden forest groves and the apple she'd been eating. . . had it been mere moments before?
"Don't worry, Papa, " breathed a quiet voice against his cheek. "I shall take the pony you gave me for my Birthday, and I shall remember you, and he shall help me not to be lonely. "
Then his arms were empty and when he could see again, Crystal sat perched on the broad back of the ; Centaur. As the creature turned, the sunlight flashed on a single tear running silver down the gentle curve of her face, and then they were gone.
Tayer, who had been brave for her daughter's sake, shuddered and turned to face her husband.
"You knew, " he realized suddenly. "You knew that someday this would happen. "
She nodded and her tears scattered to fall like dew upon the roses. "I carried that light beneath my heart, " she said. "I am sorry, my love, but I could never forget she was her father's daughter. "
Mikhail wordlessly opened his arms, much as Tayer had done, and Tayer, much as Crystal had done, ran into them.
He stroked her hair, marveling at the strength it must have taken to hold such pain within herself for so many |years.
"What shall we tell your father?" he asked at last. "The king and the court will have to know something. "
"We will tell them the truth. The truth from the| beginning. "
"Will he believe us?"
"It doesn't matter, " Tayer cried, her fingers digging desperately into Mikhail's arms. "She's gone. "
Doan pulled his hood closer around his face and glowered up through the rain at C'Tal. "This'd better be important, " he warned.
The centaur nodded, hair and beard a solid wet mass on shoulders and chest.
"It is, " he said. "Else we would not have felt it necessary to call you. You are aware that it is raining?"
"No, " Doan snarled. "I hadn't noticed. "
C'Tal looked confused. "You had not noticed? But. . . "
"Of course I'd noticed, you over-educated carthorse. " He scanned the area, stomped to a nearby boulder, climbed to the top and sat with an audible squelch from sodden clothes. This put him eye to eye with the centaur. "I'm cold, I'm wet and I'm fast losing what little patience I have. Get to the point. "
"It is raining. " C'Tal held up a massive hand as Doan's eyes began to glow red. "Please, hear what I have to say. The rain is, as you have said, the point. It has rained here for eight days now. The child is causing it. "
Both Doan's eyebrows rose until they disappeared beneath the edge of his hood.
He held out one gnarled hand, palm up, then brought the captured water to his lips. "I'm impressed, " he said at last. "How?"
The centaur absently scrapped at the rock with a front hoof. "She is not even aware that she is doing it. But, " he added, anticipating Doan's next question,
'"we are aware and we are sure it is her doing. "
"Just what exactly did she do?"
"Eight days ago, her pony died and in her grief she wept. "
A slow smile spread over Doan's face. "And the world weeps with her. Sympathetic magic. "
"So we feel also. But she has stopped weeping and the world has not. As this is not something we taught her to do, we are not able to teach her to undo it. This
is not something any of the others were ever capable of. "
"Well, they weren't a very sympathetic lot, were they?"
Great corded muscles stood out along C'Tal's shoulders and arms and his voice was ice as he replied: "We only teach. We are not responsible for what is done with our teachings. "
Doan slowly rose to his feet and the two ancient powers stood immobile, gazes locked. With a shudder that ran down the length of his body, C'Tal broke away, his head and shoulders slowly bending under the weight of an impossible burden.
"We are not responsible for what is done with our teachings, " he repeated, his voice so low it sounded like the distant rumble of thunder. "We cannot be responsible for the actions of any thinking being. But this time. . . " His head came up and his mighty shoulders squared. "This time we teach where the responsibilities lie. " He snorted, an amazingly horse-like sound. "We are no longer so blind as to think the Mother's Youngest will know this on their own.
" Doan stood a moment longer, then he nodded, once, and abruptly sat. "Which brings us back to the rain. Have you tried to comfort her?"
C'Tal backed up a step, his tail flicking from side to side in short, jerky arcs. "We are not. . . " he began. "That is, we do not ever. . . it is not in us to. . . "
A centaur at a loss for words, Doan thought, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly despite the circumstances. Now that's something you don't see everyday. Aloud he said, "Let her go home, C'Tal. " "But her learning has barely begun!" "Not forever, you idiot; just let her visit. " "If that is all you can offer, you may return to your caverns. We hone a weapon and time is short. "
"Try to remember that weapon is still a little girl. No, wait!" Doan chopped through whatever C'Tal was trying to say with that staccato command. "You asked for my advice, now listen to it. Responsibility isn't enough. She'll never know compassion if she isn't shown it, nor love either. If you can't give that to her, take her to someone who can. " "Emotion is. . . "
"Emotion caused this. " Doan gestured up at the glowering gray sky. "Remember?
She's tapped into something here the Enemy doesn't have. I don't know how, maybe it's her parentage, the Mother knows that's strange enough, but if she's to be the key to the Enemy's Doom she'll need all the help she can get. Don't cut her off from this. It may save her life. It may save all our lives. "
C'Tal appeared to be thinking it over. More rain gathered in his hair and beard and began to stream over his motionless body.
"It is possible that you are correct, " he said at last, spun on one hind leg, and galloped away.
"You're welcome!" Doan snarled as C'Tal's glistening black haunches disappeared into the distance. A centaur at full gallop moved too fast for the eye to follow. "I don't envy that child her next few years with those pompous nags, " he muttered, climbing down off the boulder. He scowled as he realized he was wet through, then he smiled suddenly. "Nor, " he declared vindictively, heading for home, "do I envy those overblown horse's asses their next few years with her. " He snorted. "They'll remember this rain with fondness if she ever gets mad. "
