The Eternal Rose

by Gail Dayton

  "Stop it!” Her voice snapped with anger, but her eyes flicked to his screaming erection, making it shout at him all the louder. “Just stop it. I don't need this now. You're not my husband. You're ilias. So is Torchay. And Stone. And while they're—If they don't—If we—I just can't, Obed. It doesn't feel right.” Her anger faded into confusion and distress.

  Obed had his own anger and distress. He propped hands on hips. Kallista's eyes flicked toward him again, then turned stubbornly away.

  He fought the growl wanting out of his throat. “If they do not get sex, then I don't either? Is that what you're saying?"

  Kallista's head tilted, as if she thought it over. “More me than you,” she said after a moment. “That I don't. But I suppose—yes, that's right."

  Need swelled to desperate levels. He had to change her mind. “They don't mind the magic sex."

  She shook her head. “It's not the same. You're right about that.” She clutched her towel to her, as if she feared he might attack her.

  The way he felt, he just might. How could he persuade her? “Taking a lover who is not your mate is a common practice in Daryath.” He struggled to keep his voice quiet, to keep her from sensing how much he needed her. “So common, it is expected. No one will be surprised that Torchay is your lover. In fact, many will believe it, no matter how strongly we might deny it."

  "Then—” she frowned “—why all the fuss about the evils of iliani if they are doing the same thing?"

  "Because they can pretend.” He clamped his mouth shut to keep from saying anything else. Would this work? Would it get her under him? Or on top of him? He didn't care what position, as long as he got inside her.

  "What are they pretending?"

  Obed didn't want to say, but silence was as much a lie as untrue words. “That they are true to their mate, that the lover is nothing to them. The lover is a secret hidden away in the dark. But everyone knows."

  "That sounds—” Kallista shuddered, as if shaking away his words. “Awful. Shameful. Doesn't it shame both lover and mate?"

  He shrugged, then tilted his head in an acknowledging nod. He remembered the whispers in Shakiri House when he was a child, how they would stop and start again whenever his aunt's “special friend” would walk by. It was one reason he'd turned down all the invitations during his dedicat days. He'd held out for marriage. And look what he'd got.

  "Oh no.” Kallista shook her head hard enough to send water flying. “No. I couldn't do that to you. Or to Torchay, or Stone. None of you. You mean that much to me."

  That was something, anyway. Not much, but something. The conversation had dissipated the urgency of his need, his arousal fading. Kallista tossed him the loose Daryathi trousers he'd taken to wearing again, before hurriedly pulling on her tunic.

  He couldn't help his disgusted huff of breath as he put them on. “We had better conclude our business in Daryath soon."

  She laughed. “You mean you don't want a nice long visit with your loving family?"

  He gave a derisive snort. “My family makes yours look like Powlas and the Three.” He named the legendary first ilian formed thousands of years ago by the first Godstruck naitan, famed for their love, harmony and angelic children. He'd met Kallista's parents, heard their quarrels. But they were merely ... awkward. Cold and belligerent at the same time. They didn't murder each other, or control each other with that threat.

  He pulled his overrobe on over trousers and bare chest, leaving exposed the tattoos near his shoulders and around his navel. It gave him back a bit of the confidence Kallista had taken away, to show his tattoos. Very few sported as many as he had earned. “Come. The others will be wanting their baths."

  "There's only Leyja and Keldrey left, I think.” Kallista shoved her feet into lightweight slippers and pulled her tunic hem down over her trousers.

  "Two more who won't be getting any sex till we leave here,” Obed muttered.

  Kallista playfully punched his arm. “You think the others are?"

  "Joh, maybe not, but Fox? Oh yes. Aisse doesn't have your qualms, and Fox isn't one to pass up any opportunity.” Obed held the door for her to pass into the hallway.

  * * * *

  That same evening, a message arrived from Obed's cousin Bekaara. She had contacted the Head of Habadra Line where the servants worked, those who might be Merinda and Sky, and asked about buying out their contracts. Between veiled insults, the Habadra had stated she would negotiate only with the Adaran who claimed kinship to her servants. Apparently Habadra Line had a long-standing rivalry with Shakiri Line. Not the best news.

  Other news was better. The child and his mother were apparently well, or had been when they were last seen, before the inquiry from Bekaara.

  "We knew it wouldn't be easy, going into this,” Viyelle said from the sofa after the messenger had gone.

  Kallista sprawled beside her, suddenly exhausted. The endless day was catching up with her. “At least the Habadra is willing to negotiate."

  "With me.” Stone sank onto the edge of one of the wide, round upholstered stools. “I think I'm going to need lessons in tradecraft. I've never paid any attention to the business."

  "You have the first, most important requirement, I think, Stone.” Kallista sent a touch down her link with him. “You are determined to win."

  "But you cannot let the Habadra know.” Obed paced as he offered his advice.

  "How can she not know?” Stone asked. “I'll be negotiating for my son. My child."

  "Sons are not important in Daryath. When they marry, they leave the Line of their birth to add their talents and seed to that of another Line. Their only importance is as...” Obed paused in his pacing to hunt words. “As trade goods. To seal alliances—or contracts—between Lines. Most Heads of Lines pay no attention to their sons and grandsons until they are old enough to send for training. Then they are sent away till their training is complete, so they are not present to be noticed."

  "If that is the case,” Viyelle spoke over Obed's quiet response. “Maybe one of the women should do the negotiating."

  "The message said the Habadra would deal only with Stone,” Kallista said. “With Merinda's mate. Sky's father."

  "More than that.” Obed stopped beside Stone's round couch. “The method for redeeming a bondservant is written down in the Law. Someone who is kin must offer the redemption price. The Habadra's message demands a particular kinsman—the father and mate. But we would have to send Stone anyway, because we have no other of Merinda's kin with us."

  "Right.” Stone sighed. “Are you sure I can't just bash somebody over the head and grab them?"

  Kallista couldn't help laughing. She loved the way Stone could always make her laugh. She loved Stone. “That's always an option, if the other doesn't work. But since it could make things a little tricky getting back home to Arikon, let's try negotiations and bribery first."

  She leaned her head against Viyelle's shoulder, needing the physical touch. Even the Daryathi accepted close friendship. “Think of it as a battle. A duel between the two of you. That's how I get through all that diplomatic and bureaucratic sparring. It is a battle. Just not with swords."

  "Too bad. I'm much better at head bashing.” Stone pushed himself to his feet. “I'm off to my lonely bed. May as well sleep, since there's nothing else going to be happening in it."

  "Best dress tomorrow,” Kallista reminded them, as the group dispersed. “We have to sparkle. Blind everyone with our shine. Tomorrow's the big day for impressing Daryath.” She sent a surge of affection through the links, spreading it through the web she'd created between their nine so all could sense the love from each of the others.

  * * * *

  At the fourth chime after dawn, give or take several ticks, the entire official Adaran contingent gathered in the embassy's entry courtyard. The escort troop was resplendent in gleaming metal helmets with horsetail plumes above long sleeveless gray jackets with double rows of brass buttons marching up the front. Kallista had to admit
the new uniform design looked impressive.

  The hordes of diplomats and bureaucrats all wore their best multicolored court dress, most decorated with gold or silver embroidery. Kallista and her ilian outshone them all.

  All of them glittered with precious stones and gilt embroidery in various shades of red. Kallista's clothing differed only in degree. Some of the cloth still showed through the decoration on her iliasti's garments.

  They had decided to bring only the godmarked into official notice. Keldrey's sole assignment on this visit would be the safety of the children who would remain in the embassy. Kallista envied him, getting to stay behind. So did Stone. He believed the pomp and ceremony got in the way of reclaiming their son, and told them all so. Often. But since the Habadra had not yet contacted them, they might as well do the diplomacy show.

  When the party was arranged to Torchay's satisfaction, Kallista signaled the guard at the gate. It swung open and the state visit of Adara's Reinine to Daryath officially began.

  They paraded six abreast down broad avenues and over silent, swift-flowing canals back to the gate where they'd entered, then circled half the city before reaching the widest paved thoroughfare Kallista had ever seen. Even the avenue-parks around the palace complex in Arikon were not this broad. It arrowed straight through Mestada to the building where the en-Kameral met, the Seat of Government.

  Crowds lined both sides of the road, cheering wildly. The copper coins scattered by the Daryathi escort at the head and tail of the procession brought on the adulation. Kallista would rather have simply marched through town, but apparently this was the Daryathi custom and one neglected it at risk. So she smiled and waved and wished to be out of her stiff, heavy garment.

  Finally, they reached the Seat. Built of local white limestone, it glowed in the bright Southron sun. Broad steps led up to a colonnade shading a deep porch three stories high. Above the columns, a vast, reddish dome rose even higher.

  Impressed despite herself, Kallista dismounted, along with most of her escort. As she climbed the stairs, the troops gradually dropped behind, lining the stairs with protection, until she led the way to the group waiting at the top.

  There were five of them. Beyond the columns, in the shade, so many others stood crowded so close that Kallista thought they would have been at the steps to greet them if they could.

  The five women dressed in identical fashion, in white hooded robes over brightly colored, ankle-length dresses. The robes were embroidered in colors that matched the dress beneath. Each wore a broad pectoral collar of heavy gold in elaborate, jewelled designs—the badge of office for the Head of a Line.

  One of them, tall, with a sleek coil of snow white hair above black brows and an unmistakable air of power, stepped forward and bowed in the austere Daryathi way with her arms down by her sides. The other four followed suit from where they stood.

  Kallista put her right leg forward, brought her hand up in a hopefully graceful flourish, and gave them the most elegant bow she could manage, her ilian matching her.

  When Kallista rose, the white-haired woman spoke. “I greet you, Kallista Reinine, Ruler over all Adara and Chosen of the One. I bid you welcome to the Seat of the en-Kameral. I greet you Kallista Varyl, wife of my sister's son. I bid you welcome in the name of my Line."

  "I greet you, Shakiri Shathina.” Kallista responded as she had been endlessly coached on the journey by her foreign ministry and by Obed. “And I thank you for this welcome to Daryath. I greet you, sister of my husband's mother, and I thank you for the gift of your Line."

  Everyone bowed again. Then Shakiri Shathina introduced those standing with her. These five women served as what was loosely translated as the executive council. They had the power to make decisions in an emergency, when there was no time for matters to be brought for debate to the whole of the en-Kameral. They also supervised the bureaucracies that managed the day-to-day running of Daryath. Their decisions were then approved by the entire en-Kameral. If they were not approved, the council members were turned out of office and new ones chosen.

  Kallista paid close attention to the names since her high steward had not come on this journey to remember them for her. Three she did not recognize, but the fourth—a dark-haired woman of perhaps fifty with a stern, square face and a pectoral collar adorned with amethysts and cranes—proved to be Habadra Khori.

  Chapter Five

  The Habadra held Kallista's gaze as they mutually acknowledged the introduction. Kallista smiled, doing her best to seem inoffensive and perhaps slightly stupid. Negotiations often went better if the other side thought her easy to fool.

  "Let me make known to you the Godmarked of Adara.” Kallista beckoned her iliasti forward. She couldn't rush through the introductions, but she wanted to. The sun was heating up as it rose higher, and if it got too much hotter, she would melt like so much ice and slither right out of the heavy court-tunic.

  Finally Leyja, the last of them marked, had given and received bows and they were escorted through the rows of Kameri waiting on the porch into the cool of the stone-walled building. The year was winding down, but autumn had not yet found Daryath.

  Kallista and Obed were seated in high-backed chairs just below the dais where the five-member council sat. The rest of the godmarked were given chairs hurriedly set up in the open floor space before the dais. She leaned toward Obed to mutter, “Why do I get the feeling they don't quite know how to deal with the Godmarked?"

  His smile flashed before he could hide it. “Probably because they do not. I am certain my aunt believes it no more than an honorific."

  When all the Kameri had filed in, they took their seats in a simultaneous rumbleofnoise,andthespeechesbegan.Theyweregoodspeeches,asspeeches go. If one could get past the fact they were given alternately in Daryathi and Adaran, each sentence coming first in one language, then the other.

  Kallista had never been fond of speeches, especially when she had to give them herself. Unfortunately, the Daryathi en-Kameral seemed determined to give each Head of the Hundred Lines the chance to have her say.

  For the first few speeches, Kallista entertained herself by translating the Daryathi sentences using what she'd learned from Obed over the years, and comparing them with the official translation. She did quite well, which pleased her. But after five or six speeches, even that entertainment lost its value. The vast chamber, filled with well over one hundred bodies, grew warm. Kallista began to have trouble keeping her eyes open.

  She propped her elbow on her chair's padded arm, propped her chin on her fist, and hoped that when the inevitable moment came and she fell too soundly asleep to catch herself, she would not fall onto her head and totally humiliate all of Adara. She was a soldier, for heaven's sake. Not a connoisseur of oratory.

  "Majesty. My Reinine.” The harsh whisper had Kallista jerking awake.

  She straightened in her chair and wiped her damp knuckles on the seat cushion, slanting her eyes this way and that to see if anyone had noticed. Torchay had, by his half-smothered smile. He always did, curse him. Stone and Fox likely had, the way they were whispering together and snickering. No one else. She hoped.

  She cleared her throat. “Yes, Ambassador?"

  The woman who'd awakened her was Namida Chand, Adara's Ambassador to Daryath. “My Reinine, the speeches will go on until you indicate you have heard enough. They do not wish to disturb you if you are listening to what they wish to tell you."

  "Might have been nice if somebody had told me this,” Kallista muttered. Her backside was as flat as the chair she'd been sitting in, cushion or no.

  "Apologies, my Reinine."

  "What do I do to let them know ‘enough'?"

  "You stand."

  "That's a simple thing. Thank you, Namida Aila.” Kallista braced her hands on the arms of the chair and heaved her flattened backside out of it.

  Immediately, the Head of Line speaking at the lectern fell silent. She stepped to one side, bowed, and the entire en-Kameral rose to their feet.


  With the executive council leading the way, everyone filed out of the meeting chamber and through the building to a lovely shaded courtyard where the splash of fountains cooled the air and tables laden with food waited to be piled on plates and eaten. Too bad Kallista hadn't known about the standing-up-to-end-speeches thing far, far sooner.

  Obed and Torchay took turn about at eating so that one of them was always hands-free to guard while Kallista chatted with the various Kameri who presented themselves before her. All the chatting made it difficult to eat much of the excellent food. Having to watch every word against a slip of the tongue made it nearly impossible. She could eat back at the embassy afterward.

  But the woman she most wanted to talk with never came close. Now and again, Kallista could see the Head of Habadra Line across the courtyard. Occasionally, Habadra Khori would meet Kallista's gaze, always without smiling but without challenge either. Whenever Kallista tried to work her way through the crowd to the place where the Habadra stood, a half-dozen Kameri, mostly of the lesser Lines, would appear and request introduction.

  With Namida Ambassador at her elbow, Kallista couldn't be rude and shove past them, though she wanted to, badly. Especially when she realized the interruptions were orchestrated by Shakiri Shathina. Kallista was beginning to dislike Obed's aunt. Still, it was early days yet. Time enough for rudeness and head-bashing later. The reception couldn't last forever.

  * * * *

  Padrey edged nearer the front of the crowd, pulling his hood forward to shade his face. It was more a guard against notice than protection from the sun, but it served as both. His hair tended to bleach in the sun like cheap cloth, acquiring streaks of gold no respectable Daryathi would ever sport, and his skin would never brown dark as theirs. Even tanned, he would burn. No wonder he'd become a thief. Night was more comfortable for his northern hide. Which was why he'd missed this morning's parade. He'd been busy till late, and overslept.