Dark Haven cotn-3

by Gail Z. Martin

  "Are there no vayash morn healers? I know that vayash moru can be mages."

  Lisette shook her head. "Healing magic wars with the Dark Gift. A healer can't be brought across." She paused. "Tell me, m'lady, are you also a mind healer?"

  "Not yet, although perhaps some day. Why?"

  "My kind have no need for the usual gifts of a healer. But over many lifetimes, it would be a kindness to be able to forget. I sense that you're not yet comfortable among so many vayash moru."

  "It will take some getting used to," Carina admitted. "I don't know how to explain it. To my healer's senses, you 'feel' different. I've never been around so many at once, and it has me a bit off balance."

  "T'will be no different tonight. The Blood Council will be here, and their 'families.'" She grew serious. "M'lady, please don't wander off alone tonight. Not with Uri in the manor."

  Carina frowned. "Why not?"

  "I'm talking out of turn to say this, m'lady, but Uri's bad seed. He doesn't think there should be a mortal as Lord of Dark Haven, and his brood's worse than he is. Please make sure that you're with someone you trust tonight at all times."

  "Thank you." Carina set the tea aside. "I guess I'd best be getting dressed. Wouldn't do to be late." -

  The great room glittered with candles and mirrors. Carina took Jonmarc's arm and entered to a round of applause and cheers. Tonight's guests were dressed for court, in sumptuous velvets and the rich, muted brocades of winter. Above the smell of wassail and warmed wine, Carina could detect the tang of fresh blood. And while the previous night's guests were a nearly equal mix of mortals and vayash moru, Carina was sure from a glance around the room that few mortals were among this evening's crowd.

  "You look quite beautiful, m'lady." Yestin bowed low in greeting. Eiria made a courtesy. "Mind if we join you?"

  "That's his very polite way of saying they're our bodyguards for this evening," Jonmarc said.

  "That sounds so harsh. Lord Gabriel just asked that we help make introductions."

  Yestin held a glass of port. Eiria left and returned with glasses of warm wassail for both Carina and Jonmarc.

  "Is everyone here?" Jonmarc asked quietly.

  "Of the Council, everyone except Uri. Typical."

  Jonmarc drained his cup of wassail. "If we're lucky,.he's got an alehouse gutter to raid."

  "We should be so fortunate." Riqua spoke from behind them. "Welcome to Dark Haven, Lady Carina. And congratulations on your handfasting."

  "You're very kind," Carina replied. "You had no difficulty making the trip back from Shekerishet?"

  "I'm sure we made better time than you did. Gabriel slowed his speed for your comfort."

  Gabriel and Laisren were talking on the other side of the room, and Carina noticed that Lisette stayed close to Laisren. There's a story there, I bet, she thought. Jonmarc guided her through the crowd, accepting the greetings and congratulations of well-wishers. Rafe and Astasia arrived together, and although Cailan was noticeably pouting, they did not seem to care.

  Uri arrived late, accompanied by a dozen of his brood. Malesh, the dark-haired young man Jonmarc had spotted at their last meeting, hung back a pace from the others. They laughed loudly enough to draw annoyed looks from the other partygoers as they poured themselves goblets of goat's blood, carrying on as if they had just come from a night on the town. Jonmarc drew Carina closer to him; Yestin and Eiria stayed near. It took Uri a full candlemark to make his greeting, a show of calculated disdain Jonmarc doubted was accidental.

  After a long while, Uri ambled toward them. He smelled of absinthe, and the scent of pipe smoke clung to his satin coat.

  "So this is the new Lady of Dark Haven." Uri's voice was as smooth as brandy. "What an honor to meet you." He made an unnecessarily low bow, pressing his lips to the back of Carina's hand. "King Donelan's court healer, am I right? How interesting that you've chosen to come to Dark Haven. Bit of a step down, isn't it? Surely someone of your standing could have done much better." "That's enough, Uri." Jonmarc said. "Then again, if blood is the qualification for becoming Lord of Dark Haven, you're certainly fully qualified," Uri said to Jonmarc, his dark eyes glinting a challenge. "Have you told her how many men you had to kill to be the general's great champion, back when you were a fight slave? Some of them may have given you a challenge, but surely most of them were no match for a fighter like yourself— the captives nor the prisoners. Did you kill them quickly, I wonder, or did you make it last for the entertainment of your keepers?" Uri clicked his tongue in mock horror. "Hard to see why the Lady would choose a mortal like you. You've probably killed more of your own kind than I have." Uri leaned close enough that Jonmarc could smell the rancid blood on his breath. "At least I eat what I kill."

  "I said, that's enough."

  Uri smiled unpleasantly, glancing toward Jonmarc's sword and his balled, white-knuckled fist. "Think you're good enough to challenge me? Go ahead. You want to. Let's see how the general's great champion holds up in a fight with a real opponent."

  "Get out."

  Uri laughed. "You must be learning from Gabriel. I seem to get thrown out of the best places these days." Uri leaned toward Jonmarc. "Bride or no bride, don't count just yet on passing the title to an heir. None of the last four lords have lived that long. You might find that the Lady's will is more elusive than you think."

  Uri motioned to his brood to follow him and they moved to the door at human speed, intentionally crowding through the partygoers. Malesh lingered for a moment longer, and his eyes met Jonmarc's with a gaze that sent a chill down Jonmarc's back. Jonmarc watched him go, consciously forcing himself to unclench his fists.

  "We'll make sure they're gone," Yestin volunteered, and he and Eiria hurried out.

  Gabriel and Laisren joined them, with Lisette close behind them. "You handled that about as well as it could be done," Gabriel remarked dryly.

  "Given that Uri's spoiling for a. brawl, I agree. Although the odds are against him with the crowd tonight." Laisren looked around at the other guests who had ignored Uri's outburst and gone back to their conversation.

  Jonmarc took Carina's hand, but he avoided her gaze. "I don't think even Uri would be fool enough to strike here,, but just in case, let's keep vayash moru guards around the manor tonight. I don't want to take any chances."

  "It would be a pity to let a boor like Uri ruin this evening," Gabriel said. "This is a celebration. You've suffered through enough introductions. Come and enjoy."

  Jonmarc allowed himself to be steered to where Gabriel's family and Riqua's brood mingled near one of the tall banks of candles. He found the questions in Carina's eyes unsettling.

  Just before dawn, the party ended. Gabriel, Laisren and the vayash moru close to Jonmarc left for the day crypts within Dark Haven. The others took shelter in their secret places before light broke through the winter night. Carina grew quiet as they climbed the stairs toward their quarters. As tired as Jonmarc was, a sense of dread filled him.

  "Here we are," he said, opening the door to their rooms. The corridors of Dark Haven were nearly empty. It was too close to sunrise for the vayash moru, and still too early for most mortals. Jonmarc noticed that someone had laid out their night clothes and a small plate of sweet cakes, along with a kettle of hot tea near the fire. He unbuttoned his doublet and laid it aside, too restless to relax.

  "Aside from Uri, that was a very nice reception," Carina said. "Although if these are the hours you normally keep, it's going to take some getting used to."

  Jonmarc forced a smile and took the cup Carina offered. "Except for Uri and his brood, Dark Haven is a decent group of folks."

  "What's Uri got against you?" Carina asked

  "Uri never believed it was right for Dark Haven to have a mortal lord," Jonmarc said. "That's part of it, but I don't think Uri actually wants to be lord. I think he likes the attention complaining about it gets him." Through the frost on the glass, he could see the first light of dawn above the mountains in the distance. "Uri's s
pent a lot of time along the river. He was a gambler and a cutpurse before he was brought across by someone he cheated. He's gotten rich being vayash moru, but he's never earned anyone's respect. He can't figure out why I've gotten what he hasn't."

  Carina set down her cup of tea and moved toward him. "I don't need to be a healer to know that something's bothering you. What Uri said back there—that's it, isn't it?"

  "I've been things I'm not proud of, Carina. Done things I wish I could forget. I never wanted any of that to taint what we have. I thought it was dead and buried."

  "Things don't seem to stay buried around here." She moved back towards the fire. "When you helped me heal Harrtuck, that's what you were afraid of, wasn't it? What I might see if I could read your mind."

  "For so many years, I tried to forget what happened in Nargi. Being back at Jolie's this spring, back in Nargi, made it all real again. Uri's right about me."

  "This would make a little more sense if you started from the beginning," Carina said.

  "Kiara told you what happened at Chau-vrenne. I was trying to get out of Eastmark, back to Margolan. There was a king's warrant on me. I ran. I made it across Dhasson, but I lost my bearings and accidentally crossed into Nargi. Big mistake. I realized it when I was attacked by one of their scout teams. I was desperate, and I fought like a wild thing—took down three of them before they got me. I was twenty.

  "Their general was impressed. Life is cheap in Nargi. He gave me the choice between being burned alive or getting to earn my life week by week in their games. So I fought.'' He grew silent for a moment, looking out over the shadowed hills.

  "At first, he emptied their jail. Sent me up against the ruffians and the cutthroats and the brawlers. They could earn their freedom by beating me, while I'd still be the general's slave, win or lose. They fought like dimonns. But I still won. Sometimes, the general sent the bad seed that he wanted to cull out of his ranks.

  "I hated being his executioner. I hated the way the audience bet on the fights, how they cheered every time we bled. They bet on me to win, and they bet bigger against me to die. But I fought, and I hated myself for fighting.

  "Nargi fought border skirmishes with Dhasson, trying to push out their holdings. And when the general took captives, he sent them up against me. If he didn't think they'd fight or he thought I might refuse, he had his priests dose them with drugs—like the asbteneratb— so they were out of their minds with rage. I could see it in their eyes. It was a kindness to end it for them."

  Jonmarc's voice grew quieter as the memories returned. "I won big for the general, and he rewarded me with enough brandy and absinthe to get me through the week. When I'd sober up for the games, I promised myself every time that I'd throw the bet, end it. It would have been so easy," he said, his voice thick with self-reproach. "Just react a little slower. Let them take me. But then the fight would start, and something would take over, and then next thing I knew, I won again.

  "The night the general let me escape, the guards chased me into the Nu. It was winter. I didn't care. I figured at least I'd die free. Washed up on the shore near Jolie's Place. Found out later that she almost had Astir slit my throat because I was wearing a Nargi uniform. But Harrtuck was there, and a friend of mine named Thaine. Harrtuck got Jolie to let me stay. I took fever—too much water in my lungs. Almost died anyhow. Harrtuck and Thaine stayed with me." His voice was bitter. "I was so angry at Harrtuck when I woke up and found out I was still alive.

  "My soul belongs to the Crone for what I've done. Every night in my dreams I see the faces of the men I killed in the games. From the time my family died, fifteen years, I've been cursed. I don't know why. But things started to turn around when I met Tris—and you. I should have told you before. You deserved to know before you made the decision to come here. If you want to break the handfasting, I understand."

  He thought the silence would last forever. She's probably too disgusted to reply. Can't blame her.

  Carina stepped up behind him. Her hands slid across his back, over the smooth satin of his shirt and the scarred skin beneath. Her touch moved with the care of a lover, and the healing warmth of her gift reached into the knotted muscles, releasing their tension. "I used to wonder, when you'd startle awake in your sleep, what you were seeing in your dreams," she said quietly. "I wondered why I saw terror in your eyes. I couldn't read your mind, but I could read your body. Now I understand."

  She slipped her arms around his waist and laid her cheek against his back. "I'd heard about the Nargi games when Cam and I were with the mercs in Eastmark. Some of the mercs were Nargi deserters who'd made it across the border. Their stories were almost too horrible to believe. Some of those stories were about the games."

  Jonmarc turned toward her, wrapping his arms around her. "So you knew—and you came anyhow?"

  "How many times have I healed you? Even mercs don't have the scars you've got. I'd guessed that you'd been used as the quintain— I've heard of commanders who'll do that as a punishment. I couldn't figure out how you could still be alive and be so beat up. Then you mentioned the games, and I knew what it would have taken to survive." She looked down. "Sometimes, when you're sleeping and I know that you're dreaming, I'll trance with you. I can't see what you're dreaming, but I can feel your reaction. I can blunt the effect." She shivered. "It's as close to the abyss as I ever want to come.

  "I love you, Jonmarc Vahanian. Scars and all. And I agree with Gabriel. It's Istra's hand on you that's brought you this far, not the Crone. You'll see. Things will be better."

  "It's already better," he murmured, bending down to kiss her, knowing she could sense the relief that flooded through him, no longer caring that she could read him so well. Nothing at all mattered, nothing except that she knew everything and wanted to stay.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “THIS HAS TO stop." Gabriel looked at the small group assembled in the Wolven-skorn parlor. "Jonmarc Vahanian is the Lady's chosen. We are oath-bound as the Blood Council to support the Lord of Dark Haven." The Blood Council and their seconds had come at his insistence the night after the reception at Dark Haven. Malesh leaned against the wall near the door. All of the other seconds except Yestin lingered in the shadows.

  Uri sprawled in a chair, studiously avoiding Gabriel. Malesh felt the old revulsion sweep over him. Uri so obviously lacked the breeding, the inborn nobility that Gabriel exuded effortlessly. Wealth or not, Malesh wondered again how the Blood Council tolerated his maker.

  "The idea of 'support' can mean so many things," Uri said, toying with the heavy gold chain of his bracelet. "I hardly consider coddling to be support. If he's strong enough, let him take the title. He survived the games. He can't hide behind your skirts forever."

  "If you intend to challenge him for the title, then you challenge all of us," Riqua stepped forward. "Is that your intent?"

  "Ah, Riqua. Still so much the merchant, balancing the scales." He withdrew a coin from his vest pocket and began to turn it through his fingers. "Why shouldn't he be challenged? You have a tradesman's love of efficiency," he said derisively. "Isn't it more efficient for one of "us to rule Dark Haven? How long will Vahanian live—assuming he doesn't meet an unfortunate accident? Most mortals are dead before they've lived fifty years. A strong man, a lucky man, might see seventy. What's that to us? Barely a day. Then everything declines while a new lord is chosen. We convince ourselves that it's the Lady who chooses, but how do we know? I believe it's luck, all of it. Nothing but luck."

  "If it's efficiency you love, then where were you all those years that Dark Haven sat empty?" Rafe's voice had a hard edge to it. "What did you do for the holdings? You were content to let the vineyards waste away. We all were. We cared nothing about whether the villagers made a living, so long as they didn't come after us. Yes, Vahanian has accomplished so much so quickly because of Gabriel's backing. But now that I've seen what they've done, I'm ashamed that we let the holdings deteriorate. We wouldn't have done that for our own lands. I'm intrigued to
see what this lord makes of the title. You should love that, Uri. A wild card."

  "What do we care what happens to the vineyards?"

  Astasia had strategically positioned herself between Rafe and Cailan, and she was enjoying the tension that produced. Malesh suppressed a smile. Astasia considered herself too good for him. Malesh would surprise her. Once his plan worked, Astasia's finely honed sense for opportunity would bring her to him, and to his bed.

  "How do we prosper if the villagers grow fat?" Astasia challenged. "Will it fatten the goats they offer us, or the criminals they stake out for us to kill? Perhaps if they're wealthy there will be more cutpurses, and more for us to eat. Who among us needs the gold the traders bring? Outlanders bring their fear of our kind. They judge our mortal relationships, as if it's perversion for us to dwell among the living and take our lovers where we choose. When the last lord died, Dark Haven turned in on itself, and the outlanders stopped coming. No one to burn us, no one to spread lies about us to the mortals. We've been safe. Change can only bring grief."

  "The fact remains that the Lady Herself chose Jonmarc Vahanian as the new Lord of Dark Haven, and we are oath-bound to the Lady." Gabriel's irritation was clear in his voice.

  "Did she?" Uri asked, staring at the ceiling. "You were the one who claimed to. have the dream that foretold a new lord's coming. You're the one who said the Lady sent you to find Jonmarc Vahanian. And you're the one who claimed the Lady made you Martris Drayke's protector, even though it broke your vow to honor the truce. What do we have except your word that any of that's true?"

  "How can you doubt the will of the Lady?" Yestin stepped forward. "Martris Drayke won back the throne of Margolan, against the Obsidian King as well as Foor Arontala. Jonmarc Vahanian has survived against all odds. Surely the hand of the Lady is clear!"

  "I find that the will of the Lady is always clearest to those who wanted to go in that direction anyhow," Uri replied with ennui. "So perhaps it's the will of the Lady that the truce is broken. I understand that many vayash moru in Margolan have volunteered for the Margolan army, to hunt down Jared's loyalists. And Vahanian trains with Laisren to fight vayash moru. Is that, also, the will of the Lady?"