by Dara Joy
Lorgin looked confused. “Who is this Chipandale?”
He said it as if it were one word. Her hand came up to cover her mouth as she giggled. How do you explain the nuances of two house-proud chipmunks? “They have a very nice house.” She grinned. “I like it, Lorgin.” He seemed very pleased, almost relieved. She hadn’t realized that her opinion about his home would mean so much to him.
“There is only one thing I’m confused about. How can you have a fireplace in here?”
“The trees of the Towering Forest do not burn.”
That surprised her. She examined the wood more closely, running her hand along it. “But they are comprised of wood, aren’t they?”
“Yes, of course. Remember when I told you that the Guild watches over them, protects them?”
“Yes, but—”
“The trees are spellbound, Adeeann. For thousands of years it has been thus.”
She looked more closely at the table, now noticing that the curved legs seemed to be attached to the floor. As if it had grown from the floor. She rapidly surveyed all the other furniture, noting the same situation.
Lorgin confirmed her suspicions. “It is all part of the tree. Although formed to my design.”
“I don’t understand. Do you talk to the tree?” That sounded singularly stupid.
“No. I commune in pictures. The exchange is not”—he grasped for the right words to explain—“not a conversation. It is more a connection. The tree is not an individual, a being in the sense that we are. As I said, there is a ‘knowing.’”
“So…you convey in some way what you want?”
He nodded. “I meditate what would please me. The tree will then grow to my desire, in order to seek harmony with me.”
“It grows as you do? A perfect environment.”
He curled his hand around a chair back, his gaze going up to the sole bedroom in the loft. “Yes. Our home can change as we change.”
What did he mean by that? She looked at him askance.
“Perhaps you would like to change something now?” His light, sexy tone was decidedly teasing.
She was not in the least amused. Her look was quelling. “No, it’s perfect the way it is.” She walked over to a window and stared out at the panoramic view. “Tell me, Lorgin, what does the tree get out of all this?”
“The joy of life within, zira.” She didn’t realize he had come up behind her until his expressive hands caressed her shoulders.
“All caring beings seek such alliances.” His velvet lips briefly found her throat before his breath fanned her ear. “Let me explain it to you,” he whispered huskily as he picked her up in his arms, carrying her up the stairs.
Rejar sat in the square at a small cafe table, slowly sipping a warm glass of mir. He was feeling oddly restless.
The night before, as was his wont, he had gone out carousing. Strangely, it had not helped. In fact, if anything, the feeling had intensified.
His feral gaze drifted across the esplanade, momentarily stopping on the attractive woman at the next table. She had been trying to garner his attention since he had sat down, and she had not been very discreet about it.
He observed her in a rather clinical fashion. Nice hair. Pretty face. Lush mouth. Voluptuous figure. Passionate nature. Somewhat developed senses. Adequate drive. Aroused by him.
So why was he not already making his way across the short distance that separated them?
He did not understand it. Why was he hesitating?
He loved women.
In truth, he lived for women.
He reveled in their textures and their tastes; color of hair, skin tones, shape of features, expressions of personality. Their scent. Such pleasures were often so intense to him as to almost cause him to go into a trance.
He had been known to completely immerse himself in the exploration of the senses. it was a peculiar trait to male Familiars, the ability to totally lose oneself in the sensual.
And even amongst Familiars, Rejar had been exemplary.
Perhaps it was his mixed blood, or a trait singular to him, but it was well known in Familiar circles that Rejar ta’al Krue had been gifted with more.
So what was wrong with him?
For the first time since he had reached his maturity, he was unmoved. Why, he could not say. Perhaps he needed the company of a female at this moment for other reasons. Women could bring comfort in many ways; all male Familiars knew this. It was another reason women sought out his kind. Familiar’s love for women went beyond the physical. They were dedicated to pleasure with the female in all its forms.
Still, there was this restlessness…
Perhaps he should visit with his brother’s wife, Adeeann. She was a very intelligent woman, and he had developed a friendship with her apart from the blood tie. He would not soon forget how she had placed herself before the xathu beast to save his brother. It was a fearless act; she had the heart of the cat.
He liked her. She had a way of seeing things differently than his people did. She would be good to talk to.
His eyes lit on the display in the window of a shop across the plaza. He smiled decisively. Perfect. Getting to his feet, he headed to the shop, the disappointed young lady he had left in the square already forgotten.
Deana opened her eyes at the low sound of the chimes. Before he had left, Lorgin had told her that the large chime would sound when the platform was in use. Someone was coming. She knew it couldn’t be Lorgin because he had left a few minutes ago to attend to some business with the Guild.
She supposed she had better get out of this hammock and see who it was. So much for a nap before dinner. Lorgin had been true to his word, making love to her passionately twice before leaving. She was exhausted.
Lorgin had admirably “explained” with his lips, fingers, tongue, and body. Controlling her pace with a master hand, he had guided their pleasure, wringing every drop of response she possessed. Tirelessly giving of himself in return.
Afterward, he had insisted on reweaving her hair, even though she told him he needn’t bother as he’d probably only take it down again. He simply set about doing it while intermittently kissing her neck, shoulders, and hair, complaining good-naturedly about why she wished to take away his enjoyment. She responded that he had just had plenty of enjoyment.
The platform leveled out as she sat up. Rejar! And he was carrying a huge crystal statue of a unicorn. She smiled in delight. He had come to visit! She rushed over to him.
“Rejar! Lorgin just left a little while ago.”
“Then I will visit with you.” He smiled, handing her the statue.
“It’s beautiful, thank you!” She carefully carried the figure into the house, placing it on the low table by the bench. Rejar sank to the floor in front of the table, snapping off the horn of the unicorn.
Deana was shocked. “Why did you break it?”
Rejar brought the horn to his mouth, sucking on the stick. “Mmmm…spun honey—delicious. I brought it to share with you, Adeeann.”
Candy! So, he had missed her company. How sweet!
Deana smirked as she watched him lick the candy. She thought of legends she had heard about unicorn horns being ground for aphrodisiacs. “If I were you, Rejar, I’d take a different piece.”
“Why?” he spoke around the horn in his mouth.
“Believe me, from what I’ve seen, you don’t need that particular portion.”
Rejar grinned, clenching the stick of candy between his strong white teeth. {What was it you once said? One can never be too…rich.}
She grinned. “You know?”
{Why do you think I took it?}
They laughed.
Deana joined him on the floor, breaking off the tail portion. The taste was heavenly. “Say, this is great!”
Rejar raised an eyebrow as if to say, “Would I recommend less?”
They talked as they ate the unicorn. Mostly about inconsequential things. Too inconsequential, she thought.
Rej
ar seemed strangely reticent, almost as if he were distracted. Although they hadn’t known each other long, the extreme experiences they had undergone together had forged a certain bond. They had seen each other react to adversity; they had enjoyed each other’s company.
Deana discovered that she genuinely liked Lorgin’s unpredictable younger brother. He was the type of man she could develop a friendship with. He would never overstep the bounds of the friendship; he would be a supportive and trustworthy ally. She suspected he had actually sought out her company today. Something was bothering him.
“Is something wrong, Rejar?” she casually asked as she viewed the remains of the statue. They had already managed to down half the poor beast and were not inclined to stop. She snapped off an ear.
{No…Yes…Maybe…I do not know.}
“Ah, a definitive answer. I like those.”
He smiled faintly, then spoke aloud again. “I have been restless of late. It disturbs me.”
She looked perplexed. “Restless how?”
“I do not know. I cannot explain it.”
“Restless as in—” she moved her hand back and forth—“female company restless?”
It took him a moment to figure out what she was saying. He grinned, revealing an engaging dimple. “No. It is something else, something different.” He took another piece of candy.
“And you can’t figure it out. Has it ever happened to you before?”
{No. And the feeling seems to be increasing. Adeeann?}
“Yes?”
Rejar stared at the pattern of the carpet. “Sometimes a Familiar can sense his own death approaching. In this way he can prepare for it.”
She gasped. “You don’t think—”
He shook his head. “I do not know for certain, but I do not think it is this.”
She leaned over, placing her hand on his arm. “Maybe you should talk to Lorgin about this?”
He shook his head again. {No, I do not wish to alarm him, especially now. His quest calls him; he must not be sidetracked.}
“I understand. Well, I know I’m probably not much help, but if you need to talk to someone, I’m here.”
His eyes shimmered. “I am grateful.”
“Here, have another piece of spun honey; candy always helps.”
About an hour later, the low chimes sounded again, signaling Lorgin’s return. He entered the house carrying a large covered tureen and wearing a big smile.
“Look what I have brought from Suleila for our evening meal. Your favorite calan stew, Rejar! I vow I am hungry and the—” He looked at two identically sticky faces; then his gaze fell to the table where only a small piece of hoof remained as evidence.
“Do not tell me the two of you have eaten an entire statue of spun crystal!”
Both of them clutched their stomachs and groaned.
Lorgin was astonished. “Why did you eat so much of it?”
“It was so good, we couldn’t stop,” Deana moaned.
“Well, if you think that was good, wait until you taste this.” He lifted the cover off the tureen with a flourish. A small otterlike head poked up out of the liquid, blinking its eyes.
“Oh my God!” Deana covered her mouth and quickly ran toward the hidden alcove bathroom at the rear of the room.
In the same moment the little animal jumped out of the tureen, shaking stew everywhere, but mostly onto Lorgin.
“Sookah!” Rejar chastised his little pet.
The animal skittered and slid across the floor toward him, scampering up his leg and onto his chest. Sookah pecked him on the lips, giving him a quick kiss, then began licking Rejar’s sticky face.
Rejar ran a finger gently over the little head, coming away with his favorite stew on it. “Mayhap I should be licking you.” He licked the stew off his finger. “You should be more careful, Sookah, lest you become a meal for some hungry Charl.” He looked over at Lorgin, laughing at his brother’s florid complexion.
Lorgin was definitely furious. “Now it is ruined!” He tossed the stew out, tureen and all. Throwing his brother a disgusted look, he headed to the bathroom to see if Adeeann was all right.
She was not all right. She was vomiting her guts out. Deana clutched her stomach as another spasm rocked her. She wanted to die. Curl up and die. A strong arm came around her waist, supporting her as she leaned over the Aviaran version of a commode.
She was not happy for the help.
“Good grief, Lorgin, get out of here!” she managed between ragged breaths.
“Do not be foolish; you are ill.”
“I am not—oh God!” He helped her lean over. “This is terribly embarrassing. Please leave!”
“I will not hear of it. Lean back against my arm. Now, Adeeann.” Too drained to argue, she did as he said. “Here.” He placed a cool cloth across her forehead. “Let me know if you need to go forward, and I will help you.”
She nodded weakly. “I don’t think there’s anything left.” Her stomach turned over again, causing the dry heaves.
Lorgin gently smoothed back her hair as he bent forward with her. “It will pass soon.”
“Do you think it was the spun honey?” she asked him seriously.
The corners of his mouth lifted. “Well, you did eat an awful lot of it, did you not, zira?”
She looked at him, mortified as she saw his splattered clothes. “Did I do that? I’m sorry.”
Lorgin looked down. “No, it was Sookah. She splattered me when she ran to Rejar. Are you feeling better now?”
She nodded gingerly.
“Good.” He picked her up and carried her up a back stairway to the loft. “Rest for a while. I will return to the house with Rejar and bring back another dish for our meal.”
“I’m not very hungry.”
“No, I do not imagine you are. Still, you might be later. Tomorrow, if you feel better, you can go to the sacri with Suleila. She will help you purchase some supplies for us.”
“I hate food shopping.” What made him think she would do such a domestic thing? Perhaps he’s going senile, she thought irritably.
He appraised her knowingly. Still the gharta. “Very well, I will do it.” He went to a cabinet, retrieving some fresh clothes, changing as he spoke. “I will not be gone long.”
Deana rose up on the bed, leaning on her elbows. “Lorgin?”
“Hmm?” He looked over at her as he laced up his shirt.
“Don’t tell Rejar I…threw up. It was really nice of him to bring the candy and all. I don’t want him to feel bad.”
“Of course not. You have had an eventful day. I will tell him you are tired. It is the truth, is it not?” He winked at her.
She was asleep by the time the brothers left, her peaceful nap unknowingly aided by the tree which shielded her as she slept, its graceful leaves fanning out to protect her from a strong breeze.
Chapter Seventeen
Traed sat at Yaniff’s scarred wooden table observing the old master’s home. It was a place of unsettling simplicity.
Yaniff placed a cup of mir in front of Traed, seating himself across the table from him. Traed suspected he was about to hear some things of which, perhaps, he might prefer to remain in ignorance. He was not altogether convinced it had not been a mistake to return to Aviara.
Yaniff’s fathomless eyes pierced the younger man. “Do you know why the Guild excommunicated your father?”
Traed crossed his booted feet. His fingers were tightly interlaced, resting on the table. He leaned back in his chair.
“I only know what Lorgin has told me.”
“Which is?”
Traed scowled. “What is the point of this?”
“Which is?” Yaniff repeated calmly.
A muscle ticked in Traed’s jaw. “He said that my father kidnapped my mother from the Tan-Shi, took her against her will, performing the Transference ceremony. There is the why, Yaniff. Satisfied?”
“Not quite. Perhaps you did not hear all of his words.”
Traed�
��s green eyes narrowed. “I heard them.”
“Then perhaps you did not listen to them.”
“Do not circle your words with me, Yaniff. If you wish to tell me something, then do so. I find I no longer possess the patience I once had.”
Yaniff snorted. “You have the patience of honey rolling uphill when it suits you, Traed. I will say what I have to say to you in my own fashion. Whether it meets your approval or not.”
Traed glanced away, shamed by his outburst to this most revered mystic. “Forgive me.”
Yaniff inclined his head slightly. “Now, Traed, did Lorgin not tell you the true reason for the excommunication?”
“Lorgin told me the Guild was…unhappy with my father’s behavior in regards to his culpability. He implied that the reason they barred him was because of his treatment of the situation.”
Yaniff peered at Traed unrelentingly. “Tell me; who circles his words now?”
Traed slammed the flat of his hand onto the table top. “What would you have me say? That my own father was thrown out of the Guild because of his cruel and irrational behavior toward his only son?”
Rather than seeming upset by the heated words, Yaniff seemed strangely pleased. “You have just said it.”
Traed sank back into his chair, suddenly weary. “What would you have of me, Yaniff? Tell me and be done with it.”
Yaniff picked up his cup of warm mir slowly sipping the relaxing brew. “Lorgin has been called upon by both the Alliance and the Guild.”
Traed was not overly surprised. “He is on a quest for them?”
“Yes.”
“Who set him upon this quest?”
“I did.”
Traed raised an eyebrow. “And?”
“There were some inexplicable disturbances on the Rim. At first I believed them to be inconsequential—just slight flutters and twitches in the continuum. Nothing to be concerned about. However, these disturbances began to increase. The manifestations of these disturbances became quite alarming.”
“So, having the Charl at your disposal, you sent Lorgin out to investigate for you. What did he find?”
