He wished he'd thought to claim Seeker heritage annums ago. Then he wouldn't need the clingy, somewhat headstrong, not altogether skilled woman. But she'd provide a great back-up plan if the Dargasi didn't believe his claim.
"A Seeker? Ha!" The border guard laughed in his face, then spat near Derfek's horse's feet. "You have less of the look of that people than my horse does. But this woman. . . "
The guard rode closer, staring at Lorrine. "Woman. Who were your parents?"
"My mother's name was Malina," she said, and that was as far as she got.
The guard rocked back on the horse's back, eyes wide. "Malina. . . She survived, then. And you are of the right age. . . Malina's Shame, you are no half-blood. Your blood is as pure as it comes."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Royalty begs of no one." He twisted around, waved urgently at one of the other riders. When the man came forward, the guard sent him to fetch. . . someone important, Derfek couldn't quite catch the name.
"Well?" Derfek said, impatient. "Are you going to let us pass?"
"Settle, puppy." The hawklike nose most Dargasi sported served to make the man look extra fierce. He glared at Derfek. "That is not my decision to make."
"Whose, then?"
"No one's, if you do not settle and be silent." He upped the ferocity in his glare and Derfek subsided. But he couldn't sit still. He fidgeted, fiddling with his amulet, picking at the horse's mane. The border guard shifted his gaze to Lorrine, who looked back at him, passive and puzzled.
"What did you mean when you said I'm no half-blood?"
"Your questions will be answered shortly," the man responded. "I will not confuse you further, as I do not know the entire story, knowing instead only rumor and myth."
So they sat and waited, in a thoroughly uncomfortable situation, while the mid-morning sun started ramping up for the day's intense heat and horse tails swished at insects.
Then hoofbeats broke the intense silence, and a new man rode up, on a blazing red-chestnut horse. His desert robes billowed in the wind of the horse's speed, making him look just like a hero out of a painting. The only thing lacking to complete the effect, his sword, hung quiescent in its sheath. A good thing, of course, given the circumstances, but it would have made the image perfect if he'd held the curved blade raised overhead.
The newcomer eased his horse to a snorting halt in front of Lorrine, staring at her with piercing black eyes. He gave Derfek a single glance, then dismissed him utterly.
"Leave us," he said, and the other Dargasi dispersed instantly. Lorrine looked at him, then at Derfek. Derfek edged his horse in a touch closer. I'm not going anywhere, the motion said.
"So. Your name, woman?"
"My name is Lorrine. Who are you? What is going on here?"
"Peace, Lorrine. Share with me the name of your mother."
"Malina. What's it matter? Please, won't you tell me what all this strangeness is?"
The Dargasi and his horse moved closer, closer, until Lorrine's horse snorted and shook its head with a jangle of metal bits on the bridle.
"Lorrine, daughter of Malina, I have a tale to tell you. But it is no tale for outside ears. Send this man away."
Lorrine shot a desperate look at Derfek, who shook his head.
"No way, desert man. I stay with my woman."
"What right have you to hear the business of the Dargasi?" His black eyes held a world of disdain. "You are kopeshk, outsider. You have no business here."
"That is where you're wrong, my friend. I am no outsider. I am a Seeker."
"Ha!" The Dargasi let out a derisive laugh. "Seeker, in very deed. So tell me, Seeker, what is the color of my underwear? For all know Seekers have the Sight."
"Purple. Now will you share your news? I grow weary of your games."
The Dargasi blinked, taken aback. "Well. Perhaps there is something to your claim, after all. Fine. You may stay, if my niece allows it."
"Niece?" Lorrine startled, causing her horse to dance sideways. She controlled it awkwardly. "Of course Derfek can stay. What do you mean, calling me niece?"
"I thought the man's name was Ralla?" The Dargasi glared indiscriminately. "You gave your name as Ralla, and occupation of trader, yet you carry no goods for trade."
"Of course not," Derfek said brusquely. "The girl knew not my Seeker name, only the one I use in the outside world. As for goods, why should we have any, when we ride to purchase trade goods from the Dargasi? We carry gold, not products."
"I smell a rat about you, kopeshk. I have changed my mind. I will not speak to you. Go, and leave me to speak to the woman in peace."
Derfek started to protest, but the man put his hand near his dagger.
"Fine. Lorrine, I expect you to negotiate safe passage for both of us. Now get busy."
Lorrine watched as her lover rode away, tugging furiously at his amulet. Then she turned her eyes towards the Dargasi man, enveloped in his desert robes so only his face and hands were visible. The sun pounded on her now, making her wonder if all that fabric truly kept one comfortable in the desert heat. Even out here, on the border between thornscrub and true desert, the heat threatened to knock her clean off her horse. She could scarcely imagine the conditions in the deep desert. Maybe it did help. After all, the veil Derfek insisted she wear here in the borderlands kept the sun from pounding on her head quite as fiercely as it did on her exposed arms. Maybe she should put the thing back on.
"Ride with me," the Dargasi said, and his horse started jogging slowly away.
Lorrine followed, feeling her head seem to unmuddle a bit. Maybe the motion helped counteract the broiling of the sun. "A moment ago, you called me niece, and yet I don't even know your name. Who are you? And more to the point, who am I?"
"With the kopeshk gone, I will tell you. My name is Ranam, son of Hadar, son of Arentin, he who is now Keeper of the Stone. I am brother to Alimansk, who is destined to be Keeper some day, and to Malina. And I am—was—brother to. . . "
Ranam fell silent, unconsciously moving forward so his horse picked up speed. Lorrine urged hers to keep up, although the poor beast didn't want to move faster at all. The heat was as hard on the scruffy mutt horse as on any outsider. Kopeshk.
"Forgive me. This is more difficult than it should be, for you do indeed have the right to know who you are. My oldest brother Mintarre is dead now. He ran mad several annums ago, and died in a crazed attempt to take the life of Arentin. He is now accountable to the gods for his actions, may they damn him thoroughly."
Lorrine waited, while Ranam slowed his horse to a walk. They'd moved well beyond the border now, and she wondered why the lands felt ominous, like the desert watched her and didn't entirely like her.
"Please, do go on," she said eventually.
"Apologies, niece. This is, as I mentioned, a difficult tale, for I have never spoken of it aloud before. What did your mother tell you of your birth?"
Lorrine shrugged. "Nothing, really. She told me I was born in the springtime, and under a waxing moon. That is all. She never even specifically stated that my father actually sired me, but what else was I to think? My father was my father. But that other man back there, the border guard, he seems to think I'm pure Dargasi, not half."
"He has a big mouth," Ranam grumbled. "He thinks this thing because it is true. You were born twenty-four annums ago, correct?"
Startled, Lorrine nodded. "How did you know?"
"Because that is the proper time. Twenty-four annums and some months ago, my sister Malina rode into exile, pregnant and shamed beyond bearing. Our mad brother Mintarre was the man who got his own sister pregnant."
The words didn't make sense to Lorrine at first, they were that outlandish and unexpected. "Wait a moment. Did you just say my mother's brother—your brother—got her pregnant? That's—that's—"
"Unholy. Unclean. Disgusting. The list of descriptive words for the act is long and unpleasant. But whatever you call it, the fact remains the same. My sister Malina was rendered wit
h child by our brother Mintarre. You are that child, Lorrine."
"Holy goddess on the moon. What happened?"
"I am not sure," Ranam said, looking away. "We all suspected something had gone wrong in Mintarre's head by then, but we did not know yet how bent he truly was. Did your mother tell you anything of our culture?"
"Nothing. She would say nothing of the Dargasi at all. I never knew she had family, let alone was related to the ruler of the Dargasi lands."
"That's not exactly. . . never mind. Perhaps you will learn about your heritage, and our culture, if you stay amongst us. But for now, I will tell you that in the evenings, after the day's work is done and the heat has left us until the morning, there is much music and dancing. There are many kinds of dances, but one of the most popular is the Dance of Enticement. Maidens who are of an age to marry perform this dance to show off their lovely young bodies to potential husbands. The men's version of this is more aggressive, filled with leaping and acrobatics, intended to inflame the hearts of young women. But when your mother Malina became eligible to join in the Dance of Enticement, all present made note of the unhealthy light of lust in Mintarre's eyes when he looked upon his sister. Again and again, he watched her dance, and then Malina changed. She became distant, withdrawn. She would no longer dance. She cried out in pain if touched. But no one suspected the truth until her body began to swell with pregnancy. You must understand, Lorrine, in Dargasi culture it is unheard of for a woman to conceive out of wedlock. It just does not happen. Our women are chaste, and faithful. So when the people saw my unwed sister growing thick about the middle, scandal rocked Karr'at."
"Malina's Shame, that guard called me."
"Indeed. People saw the pregnancy as shameful, something she'd brought on herself. I, however, I was there the day my sister faced Arentin in the Chamber of the Stone and denounced our brother Mintarre as an incestuous rapist. I watched as the old man, not so old back then, listened to my sister tell a tale of horror such as we'd never heard spoken aloud, then summoned Mintarre to the Chamber. When our brother arrived, I have never seen such a look of fear and loathing as Malina directed upon him, but he only smiled at her and caressed her hair. Even now the memory turns my stomach. Then Arentin confronted him with Malina's accusation and he smiled. Yes, he said, this is true. Is it not a wonderful thing that he would have a son of the purest royal lineage?"
Ranam paused again, this time struggling to contain old emotions. Lorrine's stomach writhed and twisted. She felt dirty, unclean inside and out, hearing the true tale of her own parentage. She'd really like to deny everything and run right back to Derfek, but how could she? Anyone with eyes could see quite easily that Ranam resembled her very closely, hawknose and all.
"I will not repeat all of the troubles that followed. I will tell you, however, that Arentin made a judgment based on his need to keep the succession intact. He declared your mother exile, and struck her name from the family rolls, and commanded Mintarre to never speak of her or the unborn child again. Malina rode off within the hour, cursing and weeping, saying until the very end that Mintarre should be the one punished.
"And so he was, eventually. As the annums wore on, people forgot Malina's Shame, but they were reminded daily of the madness of Mintarre. Until, of course, the day when the mad, bent fool attacked the Keeper himself, and died."
"Well." Lorrine shuddered. "That's. . . Well, it's an all-around horrible story. I wish I'd never heard it. I wish I'd never learned the truth of my birth, and gone on thinking myself a half-blood. Although now I know why mother would whack me every time I asked about the Dargasi, and why she always seemed a touch not right in the head."
"That is. . . an unfortunate thing to hear. The experience changed Malina beyond recognition. What has become of her now?"
"I don't know," Lorrine confessed. "I. . . I had some differences of opinion with my mother, and I left her behind annums ago. The last I saw, she was still with my father, and they had settled in the Lake District of Ashland. They had a cottage on the shore of one of the lakes and no intention of ever leaving. My guess is that they are still there."
"What a strange location for a desert born woman to choose as her home. I am glad she was well when you last saw her, although I am saddened to know my lovely little sister never recovered her sunny charms. Now. We have gotten through the difficult history, and now you know that you are descended of Dargasi royalty. You are currently farther within our lands than any kopeshk has ever penetrated, yet you are no kopeshk, regardless of how you were raised. But now, we must speak of this man you ride with, for I do not trust him. We have established your right to be here, to meet your blood kin, but what argument do you have for keeping that shifting-eyed kopeshk here with you? Keep in mind, if you stay with us, we will ride directly to the heart of our lands, to Karr'at itself. No kopeshk has walked the halls of Karr'at since the construction of the palace itself. That, you may or may not know, happened at the end of the Great War."
"That was a long time ago," Lorrine said vaguely, wondering when in hells the Great War ended. She didn't know much history at all. She knew needlework, bold and dramatic, a pleasing contrast to Kama's elegant delicacy. She smothered the inappropriate memory of Kama's soft skin.
"Yes, it was. So. Present your arguments now, and do it well, for I am inclined to send that fellow on his way. You deserve a chance, for you are family. But he relies purely on your good will."
"Um. . . well." Lorrine blinked. "Somehow I was not expecting that. Surely he has some redeeming features in your eyes."
"Not a single one," Ranam said coldly. "Dargasi do not allow kopeshk into their lands, ever. Seekers are allowed passage, because of a blood treaty predating Karr'at, but that fool claiming Seeker blood is pale. He may have the Sight, but the Sight is not any Seeker-specific talent. It has been known to appear in people of all nationalities."
"Today was honestly the first I've heard him claim any such thing," Lorrine admitted. But then she smiled. "He's not so bad, though. He's a lot of fun to be around. He isn't perfect, I'll admit that readily, but he's not too bad. He is filled with excitement and ambition, and he thinks to find treasure here in this mysterious, closed-off land."
"Treasure?"
The sharpness in his voice would have served as a warning to anyone else. But Lorrine hadn't been feeling well lately, at least not when she was on her own. When Derfek was with her, everything felt wonderful.
"Yes, he showed me a map he'd gotten from somewhere. He used it to convince people we were on an expedition, so they would give us money, the money I guess he wants to use to buy trade goods from you."
"I am interested to see this map."
"He has it," Lorrine shrugged. "I'm sure he'll show it if you ask. I've seen it, but I never really learned to read a map, so I can't tell you much about it."
"Has he mentioned anything about the treasure he seeks?"
"Not a word. He uses magic, though, so perhaps he wants to find some kind of magical artifact."
"Magic? That settles it, then. No user of magic will ever enter Dargasi lands, not for any reason."
"But whyever not? That makes no sense, a complete ban on people for an ability."
"Were you raised here, as you should have been, you would know the answer to that question. So whether or not you learn the reason will be determined by the Keeper of the Stone."
"Derfek said he'd teach me magic some day," Lorrine said, rather wistfully, for her efforts to hold Derfek to that promise had so far come to naught.
"He hasn't yet?"
This time, Lorrine caught the sharp tone even through the fog in her head. "No, he hasn't. Why? Is it important?"
Ranam relaxed minutely. "Yes, niece, it is important. No user of magic is allowed on Dargasi lands, not even a Dargasi exile returned. Although, you're not truly an exile. I'm not entirely certain of your status with us. By birth, you are a Princess, of sorts. Our royal rankings are somewhat different from those of the outside world. But you kn
ow nothing of our culture, and less than nothing of the why behind our culture. I will let the Keeper make his determination as to what to do with you."
"That's all well and good, but what about Derfek?"
"I thought I'd made myself clear. That man will never set foot upon Dargasi lands, not for any reason."
"Oh. My apologies, I seem to have problems remembering things these days, or indeed even having clear thought." Lorrine rubbed her head, wondering why it felt like she was making some kind of horrible mistake.
"That man," Ranam said, a bit too casually. "He is your lover, is he not?"
Lorrine nodded.
"And has he ever done anything to harm you?"
"Of course not!"
"And would you know if he'd, say, used a spell on you?"
"He would never!" Lorrine protested, utterly shocked.
"I know you believe yourself safe with this man, but I suspect there is something not entirely honorable in his intentions towards you. As your uncle, even though we just met, I feel I must request you carefully examine your relationship with this fellow and consider moving on through your life without him."
Lorrine laughed, although she felt more than a bit uneasy to find a small piece of herself in full agreement with this man, this uncle she'd never known of. "I think not! Derfek is a wonderful man, and I will ride with him as long as he will have me."
"And when he tires of you? What then?"
"He'll not tire of me," she said with confidence enough to mask the lie. "He loves me. We will always be together."
"Forgive me, niece, but I do not see the truth in that statement. But enough of that. Our destination lies ahead."
Lorrine looked ahead, where Ranam pointed, and saw a solid shape through the shimmering waves of desert heat.
"Where is this place that you are taking me?"
"There lies Karr'at. Our desert is a small one, less than a day's ride in any direction. We will reach the palace shortly after sunset."
"And what of Derfek?"
"What of him?" Ranam shrugged. "He will find shelter, or he will not. My men will know to keep him out until I tell them otherwise."
Lesbian: A Lesbian Life Worth Repairing Page 5
