"Well that risk is past now." Cabe raised an arm high. "And I think we can take this conversation into the Manor now . . . unless there's still some objection?" He looked at his wife.
Lady Bedlam's gaze did not fall on Darkhorse, but rather Yssa. "I suppose not."
"Good." Even as the sorcerer spoke, their surroundings transformed. Now they stood in a hall that on one side was made of marble and on the other was carved from living wood. Newcomers always stared at the point where stone and plant melded with no discernible seam. The marble became the wood or perhaps the wood became the marble.
Yssa looked around in awe even though Darkhorse was certain that she had been here at least once since they had separated. It took quite some time to become even somewhat used to the Manor. Although the marble was bright white, almost as if it had been quarried only yesterday, the sense of great age was so evident that even the most jaded person had to stop and stare.
"Aurim needs to be put to bed," Gwen declared. "I'll get Valea to help me with him as soon as I have him settled."
"Please," interrupted Yssa. "May I . . . may I help you, too? I might know a few . . . unusual . . . methods that might work to heal him."
From her expression, Lady Bedlam was anything but pleased by this offer of assistance, but after glancing at her son, she finally acquiesced. "Thank you. Any assistance would be appreciated."
The two sorceresses and their patient vanished, leaving Darkhorse to deal with Cabe. This was not going to be a conversation that the eternal looked forward to, but he had no choice. It was time that someone knew about Yureel.
"She seems harmless," Cabe Bedlam remarked. "And more able than I would've expected after our first encounter, but Tori—or rather Yssa—isn't telling us everything, Darkhorse. Do you know anything about where she comes from? She's scarcely older than Aurim by sorcerer standards. She was born a decade before the death of the Dragon Emperor; that much I've figured out, but just where is still a question. Actually, I've several questions concerning her. How did she escape the drakes' notice? What's her heritage? Yssa looks like a native of Zuu, but for some reason I think that there's more to it than that . . ."
Although he could have answered most of the questions rather easily, Darkhorse chose to remain silent on the subject. Those answers were best left to the young enchantress and her father. Knowing the truth would not help the present crisis and, in fact, might only serve to complicate things further. "I cannot say, Cabe, but that is an issue to be dealt with later, would you not say? We must speak of Yureel and quickly."
The sorcerer's mood shifted. "Yes. Yureel. I've never heard such a name . . . and you said . . . I still can't believe I heard it . . . you said that he's just like you? How can that be possible, Darkhorse? I don't think I've ever come across any mention in any of the journals and spell books I've collected of another creature like you!"
"Yureel is far more than simply a 'creature like me,' Cabe. Yureel is more me than I am, I regret to say. Did you not listen closely to my words when we were outside? Yureel and I share an origin. It is because of him that I exist at all!"
His last words seemed to reverberate about the hall. Cabe Bedlam stared wide-eyed at his friend, perhaps, Darkhorse pondered, seeing the eternal truly for the first time. Darkhorse had struggled for so very long for so many centuries to prove, mostly to himself, that he was a unique being. Now, Yureel's return had reminded him of the truth; he was nothing but the foul monster's creation.
"I think . . . I need to sit down for this," the sorcerer finally blurted.
"Allow me—" Darkhorse paused, recalling that he still wore the bridle and saddle. The shadow steed had been so unnerved by the coming conversation that he had completely forgotten about his impediments. "Before we do anything, Cabe, may I ask you to please remove these wicked trappings from me? They hinder my powers."
"Oh, gods, I'm sorry! Let me take care of your concerns and mine at the same time." The human waved his hand.
Their surroundings shifted yet again, this time becoming one of the more private regions of the vast garden. Cabe now sat on a stone bench. High, trimmed bushes shielded them on all sides from the world. It was a perfect place for what would be an unsettling conversation.
Darkhorse barely noted the change in scenery, though, for Cabe had, true to his word, at the same time removed the bridle and saddle. The sensations caused by their vanishing made all else insignificant. To Darkhorse it was as if he had been born a second time. He felt energy flow through him like a river filling an empty basin. The eternal wanted to caper about, fly up into the heavens, or simply shout his joy, but he immediately reminded himself that his freedom was insignificant compared to what he had to tell his friend. "My thanks, Cabe! You have been there to help me as few others have through the centuries. I have ever been in your—"
"Darkhorse . . ."
Cabe knew he was stalling now. The eternal steadied himself. Only Yureel could turn Darkhorse from proud and confident to uncertain and anxious. "I will make this as short and concise as I can then, for even simply talking about it unnerves me greatly." He stared at his long-time friend. "You know about the Void, the empty place from which I was spawned."
"I remember that when I was there I not only wanted desperately to get back here, but I wondered how you could've existed there so long without going mad."
"An astute question and one that I have asked myself since I first arrived in the Dragonrealm. Perhaps because I knew little else when first I came into being, it was easier to suffer my fate . . . but I digress." The stallion shook his head, sending his mane flying. "Let me start again and, please, this time I must get through this."
"Go ahead."
Darkhorse drew upon his renewed strength. He would need much of it in order to finish his tale. "Now there are two of us. Yureel and myself. Once though, there was only one." Darkhorse briefly glanced away, not wanting to witness Cabe's reaction to what he was about to reveal. "It was not me. That one was Yureel . . . my creator . . ."
Chapter Thirteen
Yssa helped Gwendolyn Bedlam guide her son to his bed. The young man was still unconscious, not a good sign in Yssa's mind. She found herself more anxious about his health than she would have expected, considering that their only encounter had been a momentary one. The young enchantress decided that it was probably because her time at the Manor had allowed her to know his family just well enough to understand what he must be like. What she had heard of him sounded amazing and quite appealing.
Control yourself Yssa! she silently chided. He'd have no more to do with you than his father did! Besides, Lady Bedlam would probably turn her into something grotesque if she discovered the younger woman eyeing her son with anything other than a clinical attitude.
He was handsome, though . . .
"How is he?" asked a voice from the doorway. Yssa turned to see Valea Bedlam, her complexion pale, walk toward the bed. To look at the daughter was to see a memory of the mother as she had been at that age. Once they reached adulthood, most spellcasters, especially those with better-than-average ability, did not age much over the rest of the three hundred or so years of their life span unless they chose to do so. Even then, with effort they could reverse the process for a time. Only when they had reached the end of their third century did it become impossible for even the best sorcerers to hold back the ravages of time any longer. At that point, they began to age normally, turning old and gray over the next decade, two, if fortunate. Few were the cases of a spellcaster completing a fourth century.
As for those with only a trace of ability, age generally came to them as it did any other mortal. Power was indeed life.
It was not then surprising to find that time affected the Bedlams little. Mother and daughter looked more like twins born a few years apart. Lady Bedlam was slightly taller and Valea's eyes were more like those of her father, but other than that, the differences were negligible. Both had a fondness for the color green, although where the elder Bedlam wore an ele
gant gown befitting a master sorceress, the younger was clad in a trousered hunting outfit that still somehow managed to be quite feminine.
They had spoken with one another only briefly during Yssa's initial visit to the Manor, but in Valea Yssa believed she had found an ally, perhaps even a friend. "He's still unconscious," she said now. "We only just lowered him onto the bed."
"He seems all right physically," commented Lady Bedlam as she ran her hand over her son's forehead. Her brow furrowed. She repeated the gesture, moving slower this time. "Odd. I don't sense Darkhorse's influence . . . or rather the influence of that thing that seems like him. Now it seems like he's just sleeping."
Yssa joined her. "May I?"
When Lady Bedlam indicated she had no objections, Yssa reached forward, touching her fingertips to the center of the unconscious sorcerer's forehead. She probed deep, trying to make certain that Aurim Bedlam was indeed free of the spell that had bound him. Her initial search verified what Lady Bedlam had said, but Yssa probed deeper yet. They had to be certain that he was cleansed of any influence.
Layer after layer of his subconscious gave way to her. Although Yssa did not try to read his mind, she did pick up general emotions, enough to know she had been correct about the sort of man he was. Very admirable. Much like his father was said to be. The enchantress was tempted to linger, but knew better than to do so with Aurim's mother next to her. Besides, nothing she had noted contradicted Lady Bedlam's conclusion.
And yet . . .
Exactly what it was she sensed, Yssa could not say. When she searched for it again, the enchantress found nothing.
"Well?" asked Gwendolyn Bedlam, her tone one of growing impatience.
The interruption broke her concentration. Whatever she believed that she had sensed had to have been the product of her own overwrought mind. "I can't find anything. He just doesn't seem to want to wake up."
Cabe's wife nodded. "From what Darkhorse said, this was more traumatic than when Toma seized control of Aurim's mind. Lanith made my son do things that he would've never willingly agreed to do, things that must have revolted him." Her hands tightened into fists. "We stayed out of this for as long as we could, first because Zuu had once been a great ally to us and we didn't wish to make the political situation worse, then because Aurim was a prisoner. It's terrible . . . generally I'm the voice of peace, but this time Lanith's gone too far! He has to be stopped, Magical Order or not."
"I'll help in any way I can, Lady Bedlam."
Gwen eyed Yssa, possibly trying to find a kind way to turn down her offer. However, before the master sorceress could reply, her daughter interjected, "Anything you can do would certainly be appreciated, Yssa. I know I speak for my entire family, including my brother. I know he'd welcome your presence."
The last made Lady Bedlam's eyes widen briefly, but gradually she nodded. "Yes, we can certainly use your aid, not to mention your knowledge. You know Zuu better than any of us. Were you born there?"
From the tone of her voice and the slight shift of her eyes, Gwendolyn Bedlam was clearly still suspicious about Yssa's origins. So far, none of the Bedlams had demanded the truth, but Cabe's wife was not going to be patient with her much longer. Yssa recalled that her father had once acted as secret patron of the sorceress, but that had been long, long ago, before Nathan Bedlam, the Turning War, and the lady's own imprisonment by Azran Bedlam. If anyone might recognize her for the half-breed she was, it would be the woman before her.
"No, my lady. My grandparents were from there and I lived there for some time after I grew up, but I was born and raised in a small village to the north."
"I see." That seemed to settle matters for now. Lady Bedlam leaned over her son. "I wish I knew why he slept like this." She pushed a lock of hair back from his face. "I don't dare take a chance, not after last time."
"Do you think there's a risk of that, Mother?"
Yssa could not follow the sudden shift in the conversation. She looked at Valea. "What risk? Of what?"
It was the elder woman who responded. "Aurim wasn't the only one Toma seized control of. I nearly killed my husband. It was a spell, actually, not really possession, but it might as well have been. We can't risk that Aurim might not still be under some subtle spell." Gwen spread her hands, then again gazed down at her son. A pink aura formed around him. "That should hold him."
"Is that necessary?" Yssa hated the thought of him being bound. It did not seem fair after all Aurim Bedlam had already been through.
"I think so, yes." Lady Bedlam stepped away from the bed. "Now I can concentrate on what ails him without fear that he might attack us while under some carefully hidden spell."
Her words made Yssa think again about the momentary sensation she had felt while probing the sorcerer's mind. Perhaps she should not have so readily dismissed it as nothing. "My lady, I might've made a mistake. You might want to probe his mind again. For a brief moment I thought I sensed something, but it wasn't there when I looked again. Maybe you'd have more luck."
Lady Bedlam extended her hands over her son again. She closed her eyes, but opened them only a breath or two later. "I still sense nothing. I went very deep, too, just in case you might be wondering, Yssa."
While it was a relief to know that her fears had been nothing but empty air, Yssa could not help but be affected by the rebuke she sensed in Gwendolyn Bedlam's words. She began to wonder if Aurim's mother would ever trust her. Perhaps she thought that the young enchantress sought to bedazzle the son since the father had turned down her offer.
It was a reasonable thing to assume. Yssa had always wanted to find someone capable of understanding her and coping with her past. It would have to be a spellcaster; she had learned long ago that most normal humans either feared or sought to make use of her abilities. The drakes were no better. Cabe Bedlam, whose reputation for understanding was legend, had been the perfect choice—so she had thought at the time. Had he left his wife for her, though, Yssa suspected he would have quickly lost favor in her eyes. That was not the kind of mate she desired. The sorceress wanted someone she could trust enough to love and someone she could also trust to love the mixed-blood offspring that would come.
She had reminded both Cabe Bedlam and Miklo of the power her children would wield thanks to both their parents, but had done so only in the hopes it would be an added enticement. Yssa knew now that with Miklo that had not really mattered; he would have accepted her even if she had had nothing to offer him, even children. That she had not loved him in return would not have mattered. Poor Miklo would have accepted her and that would have been enough.
With Aurim Bedlam, however, it was different. Something stirred in her when she looked at him, something that had blossomed quickly since their first brief encounter. It was true that Aurim's power did impress Yssa, but her emotions went much deeper than that. Having touched his mind, she had discovered that the man behind that power was also worth knowing. The blond woman only hoped that she would have the opportunity.
"What do we do now?" Valea asked, gazing down at her brother.
"It looks to me like this will require some private study of my own, dear. Why don't you take Yssa and show her around a little more, darling? If I need either of you, I'll let you know."
Yssa found herself greatly disappointed by Lady Bedlam's dismissal. She said nothing, though, knowing it would only upset the woman. Lady Bedlam did not need more aggravation; her son's recovery was of the utmost importance and if anyone could bring him out of his slumber, it was probably her.
"Yssa?" Valea gently touched her arm. Lady Bedlam had already forgotten them, her attention completely fixed on the still figure. "Let me show you the main library. You didn't get a chance to see that before, did you?"
She actually had gotten a glimpse of it, but Yssa understood that the younger woman was trying her best to keep the peace. Or perhaps Valea feared that Yssa would say something regrettable in response to the rebuke. Yssa gave her a comforting smile. "No, I haven't really seen
it. Is it far?"
"Not too far . . ." With one last worried glance at her mother and brother, Valea Bedlam led Yssa from the room. They did not talk at first, Yssa's companion seeming more concerned with getting as far away from her brother's chambers as quickly as they could. Only when they reached a staircase at the end of the hall did she start to calm down. "There's so much to see in the Manor. Every now and them I find some little thing I don't recall ever seeing and I've lived here all my life!"
"I know your mother is worried, Valea. I didn't take any offense from her attitude. She's also got a right to be a little leery of me. I did try once to seduce your father. To be honest, I'm rather surprised that you aren't my enemy."
"If you had tried to seduce my father again," Valea replied, her voice suddenly so very like Lady Bedlam's, "my mother would have been the least of your worries." Intense levels of power abruptly radiated from the young woman. Yssa now saw that the incredible abilities Aurim had inherited had also been passed on to the Bedlams' daughter. Whether she was as powerful as her brother, Yssa could not tell, but Valea Bedlam was clearly not someone with whom to trifle.
"I understand perfectly."
The summoned power immediately dwindled away. Yssa's companion smiled apologetically. "Good. I like you. I think my brother would like you, too."
Yssa felt her face redden: a rare occurrence. Valea's simple statement had embarrassed her as little else had during her colorful life. "Well, if he's as nice to others as you are, I'm sure that I'll like him."
"Good!"
Trying not to smile at Valea's enthusiastic response, Yssa focused on the path ahead. The staircase wound several times as it descended but the bottom was visible from where she stood. The Manor was a wonder in design. The enchantress pondered its creators, who, according to what Valea had told her the last time they had met, still remained a mystery to the Bedlams even after all these years. They had suspicions, but nothing verifiable.
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