A wide-eyed Sark stood frozen. Poag turned from the window with an expression as stunned as Sark’s.
“Stay well, Sark, Poag. I hope we meet again someday.” Not wanting to hear their responses, Jame turned and strode out of the room.
THE FREEDOM WAS like nothing Tigh had ever felt before. More invigorating and satisfying than rushing into battle. Horse and rider were of one mind as Gessen galloped across the desert scrub in joyous abandonment.
Tigh steered Gessen along the upper cut of the deepening canyon formed by the Rih River as it flowed nearer to the sea. Except for the occasional farm, the land was untouched by the cultivating hand of humans. Tigh wondered why she had never noticed the majestic and stark beauty of the land, with its subtle colors and striking formations caused by erosion, during her field training when she had been a Guard.
Jame would be able to find the words to describe the way the canyon walls rose up from the rapid river. Tigh smiled at the idea and glanced up at the cloudless sky, noting the position of the sun. Jame would be expecting her for the midday meal.
JAME LEANED AGAINST the wall on the opposite side of the gate from the sentry hut. She watched Tigh ride Gessen across the desert toward her.
She pushed off the wall as a concerned-looking Tigh stopped in front of her. “Sark and Poag are back.” She was surprised at how despondent her voice sounded.
Tigh scooted back on the light saddle and held a hand out to Jame.
She grabbed the hand and was lifted onto Gessen. An amazing relief shuddered through her as she leaned back against Tigh’s solid body. Tigh snaked a strong, yet gentle arm around her waist. All her unsettled thoughts from just moments before vanished with the warmth and security she felt in Tigh’s arms.
Tigh guided Gessen away from the wall until they sauntered along the meandering Rih.
Jame allowed the landscape to take over her senses and watched with fascination as the river dropped further and further into a widening crevice until they overlooked a calm blue inlet of the sea.
The soft lap of the water against the narrow rocky beaches and the plaintive calls of the gulls spread a soothing balm over her. The alien mix of salt and fish floating on the breeze hit her senses, causing her to wrinkle her nose.
“I never realized there were so many ships docked down here.” Jame watched a good size ship creep into the busy harbor bordered by large rambling adobe warehouses.
“It’s the best way to get supplies to Ynit,” Tigh said. “We used this harbor to move troops during the Wars.”
“That doesn’t look like a cargo ship.” Jame squinted at a smaller white vessel.
“That’s one of the ferries,” Tigh said. “They go to Artocia and Ingor.”
“Ingor,” Jame said. “They denied my petition. They won’t even allow you to visit Emoria. Gindor has convinced my aunt you’re a threat. They came to a compromise though. If we’re still together after a year, they’ll reconsider the petition.”
“Then there’s hope,” Tigh said.
“There’s more to it than that,” Jame said. “I’ve a choice of meekly giving in to their terms or to show them I’m capable of taking care of myself and making the right decisions for my life.”
“You didn’t accept their terms,” Tigh said.
“Remember how your parents thought you wouldn’t jeopardize your inheritance?” Jame asked. “That’s what everyone in Emoria thinks about me. They can’t fathom me doing something that would jeopardize my title and my destiny.” She twisted around and captured Tigh’s bewildered eyes with a gaze filled with earnest resolve. “The decision is now up to them because there isn’t any way I’ll give up having you in my life.”
Tigh tightened her arm around Jame. “I should be arguing for you not to turn away from your country and your people. But I don’t want to give up the chance to spend my life with you.”
Jame brushed tears of relief from her cheeks. She gazed at the white ship. “How often does the ferry run?”
“Every three days,” Tigh said. “Are you thinking of taking a trip?”
“I hear Ingor is beautiful in autumn.” Jame caught the soft amusement sparkling in Tigh’s eyes.
“It is,” Tigh said. “Especially in Miterie Park on the highest hill in the city. There’s a temple to Bal that overlooks the Sea that’s very popular for joining ceremonies.”
“Really?” Jame grinned. “What does one have to do to have a joining ceremony there?”
Tigh bent close to Jame’s ear. “Accept the proposal of a poor lovesick Ingoran whose life won’t be complete until she’s joined forever with the woman she loves.”
Jame twisted around so fast that she caught Tigh off guard and they tumbled off of a disinterested Gessen. Tigh’s reflexes pulled her around so she landed on Tigh instead of the soft drift of sand.
“That particular response is not covered in the Ingoran joining manual,” Tigh said as Jame recovered from her sudden change in location.
“We’ll have to suggest an amendment.” Jame lowered her head and gave Tigh a more appropriate response.
“You’ll have to put up with my family,” Tigh said when Jame relaxed against her.
Jame grinned. “They can’t be any worse than a country full of Emorans.”
“Someday, we’ll get the chance to compare,” Tigh said.
Jame nodded against Tigh’s shoulder. “Someday.”
SARK STARED IN disbelief at the note in her hand. “Jyac’s going to kill us.”
“Now what?” Poag looked up from her perusal of a scroll on Ynitian culture and customs.
“Jame’s going to Ingor. To be joined,” Sark said. “We have to stop her. Give us a chance to get word back to the queen.”
“I’ll prepare the message and get it to the courier before she leaves this morning.” Poag stood up. “You go talk some sense into our princess.”
Sark grimaced. How could she possibly talk sense to the person who had successfully defended Tigh the Terrible? “I’ll do my best.”
Poag looked up. “You have to do better than your best. Jame mustn’t be allowed to enter into a foreign joining before Jyac has the opportunity to make a response.”
“I’ll think of something.” Sark opened the door. “As you said, I have to stop her.”
The early morning coolness was tolerable enough. But Sark couldn’t understand how the inhabitants of Ynit could stand the afternoon pounding of sun. The heat didn’t improve her disposition and she reached the warren of crooked lanes Jame currently called home, more agitated than reasonable. She was more than a little angry at Jyac and Gindor for thinking Jame would realize how foolishly she was acting and quietly come home. Jame was not a child who had lost her way. She was a young woman who knew how she wanted to live her life.
Sark rounded the last corner into the quirky snippet of a lane where Jame lived and slowed her step at the sight of a large horse grazing in the yard. A saddle and several saddlebags were lined up nearby.
She paused outside the open door and listened to the voices inside—discussing what needed to be packed and what to add to the list of things for friends to keep an eye on while they were gone. She also heard words of endearment and joy at this first step in their journey together.
Sark forgot she was listening to her princess. All she heard was a young woman filled with the joy of love. Talk sense into her? Jame wasn’t the one who needed to listen to sense. She resolved it was better to endure the wrath of her queen than to prolong this attempt to ruin Jame’s life. She’d rather have Jame return to Emoria as a strong and independent woman than one who had given in to the arbitrary demands of Queen and Council. Jame had shown her true Emoran heritage in not giving in to a compromise. A shiver of pride scuttled down her spine.
She turned to walk away when Jame, carrying a pack, hurried through the door.
“Sark,” Jame said. “Did you come to see us off?”
Sark was caught off guard by the joy that almost caused the air around Jam
e to sparkle. “Yes, my princess. I wish you happiness.”
Jame put down the pack and laid a comforting hand on Sark’s arm. “You can tell Jyac you tried to talk me out of this. She’ll be angry enough with me. You don’t need to let that anger spill over to you.”
Sark straightened at Jame’s insight and thoughtfulness. “No, my princess. I’ll tell her the truth. We’ll never be able to resolve this mess if we further the delusion.”
Jame held Sark’s determined eyes for several heartbeats and then nodded. “You tell my aunt the trust the people have in a queen begins the moment a queen is born. I want to prove to my people they can trust my judgment and what better example to use than my trust of a woman the rest of the world sees as a monster.”
A riveted Sark stared at Jame and felt a tiny thrill at the idea that this young woman was going to be a formidable ruler of Emoria. “I’ll tell her.”
“Thank you.” Jame relaxed and pulled Sark into a heartfelt hug.
“Stay well, my princess,” Sark said with unconcealed respect.
“Stay well, Sark.” Jame smiled as Sark stepped away. “Give my regards to my aunt.”
“I will.” Sark turned and quickly strode away. She had to stop Poag from posting the message. They would take word back themselves. Their mission to Ynit was finished.
JAME HADN’T BEEN quite sure how she’d react to being on a ship when she first stepped foot on the vessel. But once she got used to the rhythmic movement and the wonderful sense of freedom as they scuttled around the southwestern coast of the continent, she loved everything about being on the water.
Tigh, on the other hand, maintained a queasy stomach throughout the whole two-day trip.
“How are your parents going to react to us just showing up like this?” Jame asked as they sat on a small bench near the prow of the ship and watched the elegant cascading architecture of Ingor drift closer and closer. The dramatic rise of the hills up from the small harbor was a stunning sight as the city glistened in the afternoon sun.
Tigh took a swallow from a small skin filled with a special herb mixture she always kept with her while on the water. “My father will have convinced my mother our joining is a good idea.”
Jame cocked her head at Tigh. “You’re more like your father than your mother.”
Tigh nodded. “Much to my mother’s continual disappointment. Fortunately, my sisters take after her.”
“So you’ve always gotten along with your father better than your mother?” Jame watched a pair of gulls dart around each other.
“He may not have always understood me, but he’s always supported me,” Tigh said.
“One of the hardest things I had to get used to when I left Emoria was being around males,” Jame said. “Most Emorans may see only a handful of males in their entire lifetimes.”
Tigh shifted and looked a bit uncomfortable. “Uh, what about, uh . . . ?”
Jame frowned at her for a heartbeat before realizing what she was trying to ask. “Laur gives us the gift of children. When a couple decides to have children, they go to Laur’s Temple and ask for the gift. They spend the night in a special chamber in the Temple where they participate in a ceremony during which Laur presents them with the seed for a girl child.”
“So you had two mothers,” Tigh said.
“My birth mother was Jyac’s sister and her mate was a scout.” Jame stared at the myriad of boats floating in the harbor. “They were both killed barely a moon after I was born. They were in a hunting party gathering supplies before winter set in. They got caught in an avalanche on the slopes of Jacalore Mountain. Jyac and Ronalyn took me in and raised me as if I was their own child.”
“Do you, uh . . .” Tigh took a deep breath. “Do you have to be an Emoran to take part in this ceremony?”
Jame turned and stared at Tigh. “You want to have children?”
Tigh looked down at her hands. “I don’t want to jeopardize your chance of producing an heir.”
Jame took Tigh’s hand and pulled it to her heart. “All that is needed for Laur’s gift is the complete love and devotion the parents have to each other. But it doesn’t matter because when I’m ready to give my people an heir, you’ll be a citizen of Emoria. I have faith that Jyac and the Council will eventually accept you. They’re narrow in their thinking because their world is narrow. But having me in Ynit has expanded their world a bit. They just need a little time to adjust.”
Tigh lifted Jame’s hand to her lips. “It would be an honor sharing a child with you.”
ACTIVITY FROM THE deck hands diverted Tigh’s attention from Jame. A long wide pier reached out to greet them. They stood and slung their packs onto their backs and joined the other passengers in a long open cabin as the ship lurched next to the pier.
Shouts from the deck hands were followed by ropes thrown to uniformed men and woman waiting on the pier. Before the plank was dropped for the exiting passengers, a woman in bright Ingoran colors strode up the pier and took her place by the ship.
Tigh nudged Jame. “Have your papers ready?”
“Right here.” Jame pulled her new arbiter document and her well worn Emoran papers from her pouch.
Most of the passengers were Ingoran merchants and they moved down the plank and flashed their papers at the pier master. A foreigner spent a longer time as the pier master made a show of inspecting the man’s papers. Tigh kept from rolling her eyes at the woman’s expression when she saw Jame coming down the plank.
Jame’s plain but well cut brown leathers, the travel bag adorned with Emoran braid, and the light blond hair all but shouted foreigner to the pier master and she put on her best superior expression as she held out her hand for Jame’s papers.
Tigh tried hard to keep from smirking at the woman’s reaction. A peace arbiter and an Emoran princess never walked off a ship in Ingor before.
“Let’s see your arbiter’s medallion,” the pier master said.
Jame pulled the medallion from beneath her tunic and held it so the pier master could read the name inscribed on it. “Do you want to see my Emoran braid?”
“Is there anyone who can verify these papers?” The pier master ignored the question.
“I can.” Tigh stepped next to Jame and handed her papers over.
The pier master looked up at Tigh and then at her papers. “You’re a peace warrior and a member of the House of Tigis?”
“That’s right.” Tigh raised an eyebrow. “Since when did Ingor question arbiters-at-large?”
“We’ve been careful with all foreigners since the end of the Wars,” the pier master said. “If you were truly Ingoran you would know that.”
“This is the first time I’ve been here since I was recruited to serve in the Wars seven years ago.” Tigh pulled her discharge papers from her pouch.
The woman read through the papers. She looked up at Tigh and her expression lost much of its arrogance. She handed the papers back to both of them. “You may pass.”
When they were halfway down the pier, Jame vented her anger. “How dare she even question an arbiter’s papers.”
“It looks as if the Wars have changed Ingor.” Tigh steered Jame to where several young girls and boys held the horses that had been liberated from the ship’s hold.
Gessen stamped an impatient greeting as Tigh murmured an apology and a promise of some nice big apples.
“I’m not used to being treated with suspicion,” Jame said as Tigh led the way off the pier and up a jagged street.
“The Wars have made people more suspicious, less open than they were before,” Tigh said. “Perhaps that will fade with time.”
“It’s the Emoran papers,” Jame said. “Will our joining make me an Ingoran citizen?”
Tigh stopped walking and turned to Jame. “Yes.”
“Good,” Jame said. “It’s only fair, after all. When we’re joined in Emoria, you’ll become an Emoran citizen.”
“It’ll be good for Ingor to have to call an Emoran a citizen,” Tig
h said.
Jame grinned and grabbed Tigh’s arm and they continued their journey through the crooked streets of Ingor.
Chapter 20
Tigh didn’t want to leave Gessen in the lower stables her family maintained so she led the way past neat small residences splashed with whites and yellows. The wide road switched back up the hill until only a few residences lined each segment of the road.
“The main business establishments for the most successful merchants are down there.” She pointed to a flat area with wide boulevards and sprawling buildings. “They’re easily accessible from the harbor and the overland roads.”
Jame nodded. “The success of a merchant has a lot to do with where their business is.”
Tigh grinned. “But they first have to be successful to build a business there. The residences for all those merchants are at the tops of these hills. At the bottom of the hills the houses are quite small and they get larger as they go up, depending on the success of the merchants who own them.”
Jame, used to the climbing the Phytian Mountains, thought nothing of rambling up the hill. She gawked at the high stone walls broken by an occasional iron fence, allowing a glimpse of homes that looked as if they cascaded down the steep incline of the hill.
“What’s that?” She frowned as they passed a gully lined with precisely placed stones. Long thick ropes ran down the middle of the trench like a waterfall of hemp.
“That’s the lane for the pulley trolley,” Tigh said.
“Pulley trolley?” Jame looked up and down the stone bed, noting that the ropes were wrapped around a series of wheels at the top of the hill. The bottom of the gully was too far away for her to get more than a glimpse of what appeared to be a blue painted wooden box.
Tigh shrugged. “That’s how the residents go up and down the hills.”
Jame looked around them in puzzlement. “This is a perfectly good road.”
“Ingorans aren’t raised to engage in strenuous physical activity,” Tigh said.
Future Dreams Page 21
