by Anne Bishop
Yarek looked at the sparse garden and sighed. “War’s what happened, Jared. War between the tribes.”
“But we’ve been united since the time of Shal.”
“If everyone had remembered Shal’s warnings about the long-lived races, we might have stayed united and strong. But that slut who controls Hayll has a way about her. It’s like finding a weed in the garden. You know it doesn’t belong there, but it looks small and pretty so you let it stay, not realizing that, although it looks small and pretty above the ground, underneath it’s sinking a tap root so deep you can never cut out all of it, and it sends out all these other runners that choke out everything but other weeds.
“That’s what happened to Shalador. One by one, place by place, we lost our strong Queens, our good Queens. Some to age. Some to ‘accidents.’ One by one, until all that was left were the weeds.”
Jared rubbed his forehead. “And even a good man will eventually yield to a bad Queen if the hunger for the bond gnaws at him long enough and hard enough.”
Yarek nodded. “A strong love bond eases that hunger, too. A Blood male needs one or the other. I guess that’s why the warriors who came to demand we yield to the new Queen did what they did.”
Unable to look at Yarek, Jared focused on the cracked, barren ground in front of him. “Did what?”
Yarek shuddered. “They slaughtered the witches. They butchered our hearts. They didn’t give a call to battle and wait for the ones who chose to fight to come to the killing field. When every family in Wolf’s Creek refused to yield and every male told them what they could do with their damned Rings of Obedience, the delegation left. Thirteen men. That’s all we saw until the next day when hundreds of them surrounded the village and attacked. They weren’t after the men. Our wounds and deaths happened because we were in the way. It was the witches those bastards wanted. Little girls, old women, Ladies in their prime, the darker-Jeweled girls on the verge of womanhood . . .
“They raped some of them, just like they raped the land. Left some alive, broken and mutilated. Some of the lighter-Jeweled young witches were captured and taken away. A few—very few—escaped the breaking and slaughtering, but they weren’t old enough or strong enough for the males to bond to comfortably.”
“Is there anyone left at Wolf’s Creek?” Jared asked, carefully circling around the questions that needed to be asked.
Yarek shook his head. “Only a couple of houses were left standing by the time it was done. They took most of the livestock, and we knew the land couldn’t yield enough for us to eat even if we were able to tend it and could find a Queen to heal it—and there was nothing to get us through from a new planting to the harvest.
“Belarr arrived that evening with forty men . . . and Reyna. She did what she could to keep us alive. Then Belarr and the other men brought us to Ranon’s Wood. There’s always been strong family ties between Wolf’s Creek and Ranon’s Wood, so Reyna didn’t have to look far to find hands to help her.” Yarek cleared his throat. “I told her to take the arm. It wasn’t hanging on by much anyway, and I’d managed to stop the bleeding before they arrived. I told her to put her strength into the young ones. She cried but, may the Darkness embrace a true daughter, she did what I asked.
“A week later, the bastards came to Ranon’s Wood. Belarr had set up a watch, so they didn’t come in without warning, but they came, and it was Wolf’s Creek all over again—except they didn’t even give Belarr or anyone else a chance to refuse to yield.
“He fought. Mother Night, how he fought! But . . .”
“He wasn’t trained as a guard,” Jared said quietly. “He wasn’t trained as a warrior.”
“No. He was a strong man and a fine administrator and he’d served his Queen and Ranon’s Wood well, but he wasn’t a trained warrior.”
Belarr had had the strength of the Red, but hadn’t had someone like Randolf to show him how to use that strength to kill, hadn’t had a Warlord Prince like Blaed with him who would surrender to instinct and find the killing field within himself.
“They had to kill him, you see,” Yarek continued in a low voice. “They had to. They couldn’t let a Red-Jeweled Warlord live after they’d torn his wife’s body apart enough to make her scream but not enough to let her die quickly.”
Jared made a choking sound.
Yarek didn’t notice. “They paid dearly, Jared. The bastards paid for Reyna with their own blood. And they didn’t really win in the end.
“She was in the village when the attack started. Janos died trying to reach her. And she went down fighting to protect a young girl.
“I don’t know how Belarr reached her or where he found the strength to get her away from them. They were both dying by the time he got her home, and she . . . she kept trying to heal him. He asked me to leave them be, to look for Janos when the fighting was over. Then he carried her up to their room and lay down with her on the bed. Wasn’t my place to be there, so I closed the door.”
Yarek pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his nose. “I left the house and hid in the woods. Sounds cowardly . . .”
Jared shook his head. “You’d already fought one battle. You weren’t strong enough to fight another.”
“I did have another reason,” Yarek said slowly, tucking the handkerchief into his pocket. “On and off all through the winter, Reyna kept saying you were coming home this autumn. I didn’t have much hope for Janos. I figured someone from the family should be here to meet you, and I was the only one left.”
“The only one?” Jared whispered. “Those bastards killed all of them? All the aunts and uncles? All the cousins?” He put his head between his knees and tried to breathe. “Aunt Janine?”
Yarek rubbed Jared’s back. “My Lady died at Wolf’s Creek.”
Jared squeezed his eyes shut. “Shira and Mariel? Mother Night, they didn’t take Shira and Mariel, did they?” He sat up too fast.
Yarek pushed Jared’s head back down. “No, they didn’t get Shira and Mariel. My girls crossed the Tamanara Mountains last autumn, with Davin as their escort.”
“Davin?” Jared braced his hands on his knees and pushed himself upright. “Davin as escort? But he’s—”
“Old enough,” Yarek said firmly. He rubbed his chin. “Reyna was fretful last autumn. One day she showed up and talked to Janine. The next thing I knew, the girls were sent off with Davin and some travelers who were resting up in Ranon’s Wood before heading west, hoping to serve that Queen on the other side of the mountains.”
“They went to Dena Nehele.” Jared sighed. “Thank the Darkness.”
“You know something about the Gray Lady?” Yarek asked sharply.
“She’s a Queen worthy of the best a man can give. If she took Davin into her court, he’ll do well.”
“Then she may be the only Queen left who is worthy of it.”
“No,” Jared said softly, “there’s one other.”
Yarek gave his nephew a considering look. “You rode in alone. What happened to the witchling?”
Jared blinked. “The witchling?”
“The one bitten by the viper rats. The one the little Black Widow’s been fretting about so much.”
Jared blinked again. “Little Black Widow?” He rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth. “What did she say about Lia?”
“Ambush. Viper rats. You taking off with the witchling to find help. The rest of them hightailing it here.” Yarek shook his head and huffed. “Poor thing was making herself sick with all the fretting, and that young Warlord Prince knew about as much as an ant can piss about soothing a witch who’s got herself fretted. Now, me”—he waved his hand—“I know something about soothing a fretting witch. Janine wasn’t much of a fretter. All I had to do for her was keep some cheap clay pottery around that she could smash whenever she got really annoyed. That and a long, hot ride between the sheets usually eased her mood.”
“What?” Jared said weakly.
“Can’t settle things the same way with a daughter—�
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Jared choked.
“—so I had to learn other ways of soothing, didn’t I? Wasn’t Janine who got Shira to stop fretting when Tavi performed the Fire Dance and then turned down her invitation to be her lover, was it?”
“What?”
“ ‘Sweetheart,’ I said, ‘a young Warlord’s got a right to choose his lover same as a young witch.’ ”
“What in the name of Hell was she doing inviting anyone to her bed?” Jared shouted.
“She’d had her Virgin Night. She was free to try out a man if it pleased her.”
“Shira’s not old enough—”
“She’s twenty-five now,” Yarek said, looking fierce.
“Then why didn’t her lover escort her over the mountains?”
“She didn’t find one she wanted to keep. Damn shame, but there it is. I wanted Mariel to have her Virgin Night before she left—have a Shalador male take care of it so I’d know it was done right—but there was too much upset at the time, and it would have been too risky with her emotions all stirred up like that.”
Jared braced his head in his hands and moaned. He’d been able to picture Janos and Davin grown—up to a point—but Shira and Mariel? Shira, with lovers. Mariel, ready for her Virgin Night and probably spending her evenings dreamily thinking about which consort she’d like to request for that night.
Lia, who wasn’t thinking about any of it.
He moaned again.
Yarek narrowed his eyes. “You acting so prudish about Shira and Mariel for a reason, or are you just trying to dodge my question about the witchling?”
“The witchling.” Jared rammed his fingers through his hair. What would Lia say about being called a witchling? What would Thera say about being called the little Black Widow? “She’s—”
They both tensed when they heard a horse approaching at an easy pace, but they couldn’t see the road from that part of the garden.
The roan mare whickered a greeting. Minutes later, Lia and Blaed came around the side of the house.
Jared ground his teeth. “She’s supposed to be resting.”
“That’s the witchling?” Yarek asked, jumping to his feet. He whistled silently. “Even dressed like that, she’s a lovely woman.”
Pleased to feel his blood simmering and more than willing to let grief find its release through anger, Jared stood up more slowly. “She’s also the Gray Lady’s granddaughter.”
Yarek gurgled a bit, but didn’t have time to say anything before Lia and Blaed reached them.
“Warlord,” Lia said politely, smiling at Yarek. “Jared,” she added cautiously.
Yarek bowed low, then grinned. “Lady. I hope my nephew’s remembered his manners while he’s been serving you.”
“Did he have any?” Lia murmured, a hint of mischief in her eyes.
“Why don’t you just keep pushing yourself until you collapse?” Jared shouted at her. “Watching you crawl in the dirt will certainly make us all feel better.”
Lia paled.
“JARED!” Yarek clouted Jared’s shoulder. “You shame your mother to say such a thing!”
Jared closed his eyes and hunched his shoulders. He stood there, trembling, saying nothing.
“If you’ll excuse me, Warlord,” Lia whispered.
As soon as she was out of earshot, Blaed turned on Jared. “Damn it, Jared. What’s wrong with you?”
Jared glared at Blaed. “What’s wrong with me! What’s wrong with you, bringing her out here?”
“I didn’t bring her anywhere. I managed to climb up behind her before she went looking for you.”
Jared’s hands curled into fists.
Blaed took a wider stance and braced his feet.
“Youngsters,” Yarek said firmly. “Enough blood’s been spilled on this land.”
Jared swayed. He resisted Yarek’s embrace for a moment before giving in and clinging. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I’ve been sitting here, becoming incensed because the cousin I still remember as a girl is old enough to have lovers. I lash out at you. I lash out at Lia. Mother Night, will I ever stop lashing out at people who don’t deserve it?”
“It’s the grieving pain, Jared,” Yarek said softly. “It’s something too big to give in to all at once. I know, boy. I know.”
Jared stepped back. Took a deep breath. “Blaed—”
Blaed shook his head. “I understand.” He looked at the garden. “I shouldn’t have let you come without some warning, but I didn’t know how to tell you about this. Any of this.”
The three men turned and watched Lia enter the greenhouse.
“I don’t want to leave Thera alone too long,” Blaed said. “She’s still too edgy.” He looked at Yarek. “I could give you a ride back to the village. Jared and Lia can ride double on the gelding.”
“You can take the gelding,” Jared said.
“Not if Lia’s staying I can’t,” Blaed replied sourly. “Damn horse caught a whiff of her and has been acting like a stallion who’s caught the scent of the only mare in season.”
“I appreciate the offer, young Prince.” Yarek squeezed Jared’s shoulder. “Don’t stay too long. The bastards shouldn’t come back, but it would be too easy to get cut off out here.”
“One thing,” Jared said, drawing Yarek a few feet away. “What . . . What happened to the bodies?”
Yarek rubbed his chin. “That’s why I said the bastards didn’t win in the end. They hadn’t been interested in the bodies at Wolf’s Creek. Just left them there. But they took the time to look for Belarr. I guess they wanted to make sure he was dead. It was after sunset before they came here. I could hear them smashing things while they searched. They came out again, cursing for all they were worth, shouting at each other that they’d find him, and the Healer, too.
“I waited a while before going inside.
“Belarr and Reyna were gone, Jared. Just gone. There was that quilt soaked with their blood, but that was all.”
Jared watched the clouds move slowly across an autumn-blue sky. “Do you believe in the Dark Realm, Uncle Yarek?”
“The place where the Blood’s dead go before their power fades enough for them to return to the Darkness? Myself, I always thought stories about the demon-dead were just that—stories. Now I’m not so sure. Belarr would have done anything to stop them from taking her. If going to such a place would have given him a little more time with her, he would have found a way.” Yarek paused. “I never found Janos, either.”
“I hope it does exist,” Jared said quietly. “I hope they found the way to get there, and they’re still together.”
“Me too, Jared. Me too. Now make your peace with the witchling and try not to fret her.”
“Another male flaw,” Jared grumbled. “I fuss. I pester. Now I’ll be accused of fretting her.”
Yarek gave Jared a long look before patting his shoulder. “They all say that. And they all get used to it. Eventually.”
Jared waited until he heard the mare’s hoofbeats before he approached Reyna’s greenhouse.
She’d found a bucket of water and the specially shaped dipper Reyna had used to water the seedlings.
“Lia.” Jared waited for her to acknowledge his presence.
She didn’t.
Feeling awkward, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he watched her move from pot to pot, speaking so softly he couldn’t make out the words that weren’t meant for him anyway.
She held the dipper in her left hand. Two fingers of her right hand rested just above the soil in the pot. She poured the water over her fingers and murmured a phrase. The same movements, the same words, over and over.
It wasn’t until he really looked at the seedlings in the first pots and saw how much stronger and greener they looked than the rest of the plants that he realized what she was doing.
Queen’s magic.
According to their oldest legends, the Blood had been created to be the caretakers of the Realm, to use the awesome power
they’d been given to maintain the balance between the land and all its creatures. As the caretakers, they became the rulers of everything that walked upon Terreille or flew above it or swam in its waters.
The price of power was service. Or so the legends said.
The Blood had a deep respect for the land. Many had a special gift for nurturing it.
But only a Queen could heal it once it had been wounded. Only a Queen’s blood and a Queen’s strength could turn barren ground back into fertile soil.
They were, after all, the land’s heart.
Coming up behind her, Jared lifted her right hand and poured water from the dipper over it to clean the cuts she’d made on her fingertips.
“No, Lia,” he said gently, turning her around.
She stared at his chest. “Let me do this. I need to do this.”
Jared shook his head. “There’s nowhere to plant them. There’s nowhere for them to go.” Was that true for the Shalador people as well? he wondered. Would they, too, wither and die?
Since she didn’t pull away from him, he slipped his arms around her and nudged her closer. He sighed when her hands touched his waist.
“I used to help her in here,” Jared said in a hushed voice. “She always said I had to make myself useful if I was going to—”
“Going to what?” Lia asked when he didn’t continue.
Jared grimaced. “If I was going to pester her.”
Lia chuckled. “No wonder you’re so good at it. You’ve been in training your whole life.”
Jared made a rumbling sound, which amused her even more.
Drawing her closer, he rested his cheek on the top of her head. “I saw her once, a few months after I was Ringed. During the training time. I don’t know if she was in that particular Territory for another reason and just happened to be walking in that plaza that day or if she’d somehow found out where I was and had come to see me.
“I saw her. It would have been hard to miss a golden-skinned woman with shining black hair that flowed to her waist and those rare green eyes.” He paused. “I have her eyes.”
Lia stroked his back.
“The witches in charge of the training saw her, too. They didn’t know, or care, who she was, only that her presence there was important to me. One of them walked over to me and fondled me through my clothes. And there was nothing I could do about it. There was nothing they’d done to me up to that point that had humiliated me quite that much. In a way, it’s ironic that I felt so much shame because Shalador boys look forward to the day when we’re old enough for the Fire Dance, for the time when we’ll step into the dance circle and display ourselves to every woman in the village. I wouldn’t have been dancing for my mother, but I would have danced in front of her and never given it a thought.”
