“Then it’s . . .” The breath caught in her throat. She backed away, seeming smaller. “It’s not true, but why—”
“Why—what, my dear?” Ellirt moved closer.
“Why do I remember him cold and dead at my feet?”
He heard tears in her voice and laid a hand on her arm. Her skin felt icy through the sheer material. “Perhaps it was only a bad dream.”
“Was it a dream, then, that I attacked him?” Her tone was bitter.
“There was an attack, but he recovered.”
She radiated desolate lostness. Ellirt wished he did have that cloak so he could fold the child into it. “Come inside, just for a little while until you warm up. Perhaps I can help you sort this all out.”
She stared at his hand. “I’m to be Tested and Named tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“But I can’t stay.” Her voice was only a strained whisper. “They may try again, you know, any time. I have to be ready.”
Ellirt put an arm around her shoulder, pulling her toward the gate, sensing the weary Kevisson following behind on leaden feet.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” she asked as they walked.
“Remember you?” Ellirt shook his head. “I’m sure we have never met, although I have known your father over the years.”
“I don’t know why I asked. I knew it was true.” She sighed and reached for the latch on the gate. “The minute I entered your past, it shifted into an Otherwhen. There isn’t anywhere to go . . . no place I can hide.”
What a strange child, Ellirt thought behind his shields as their feet crunched along the gravel path back to the main building. What in the name of the Light had been going on up there at Tal’ayn all these years?
ALYSSA gazed up at the golden crescent of Lyrdriat, suspended over the bridged towers of Tal’ayn, and shivered. She had only brought a light shawl and the late spring Highlands wind cut through her like a knife. What was Jarid thinking, to call her outside like some chierra servant girl?
Her cheeks heated as she thought of his imperious summons this afternoon, as well as the other slights and brush-offs he’d heaped upon her since his return from the Lowlands. She would suspect he’d found someone else if she hadn’t been certain he’d never find another Kashi bride combining her bloodlines, beauty, and Talent.
Yellow lights still shone in the windows of the kitchen down on the ground level as the final preparations for tomorrow’s ceremonies continued. She thought of the waste of food and decorations prepared for the Naming of a ghost and jerked her shawl closer around her shoulders. Lord of Light! Was she doomed now to spend the years tied to a madman?
Something reached up behind her and tapped her shoulder. She whirled around and a hand clamped roughly over her mouth.
Don’t bother screaming. It’s only me. Jarid’s pale eyes glittered down at her in the moonlight.
She shoved his hand away. “How did you do that?” she whispered fiercely. “I didn’t even feel your mind.”
“Oh, I have a few tricks left to show you yet.” He laced his fingers through hers and drew her through the waist-high Old apple seedlings. “We need to go farther, though. I don’t want to be in Uncle’s range.”
She stumbled after him in her light slippers. The thought of Dervlin catching them together was enough to choke back the rest of her complaints. They passed the far edge of the orchard and began to climb through the surrounding jagged gray rocks. “I’m not dressed for this.” Alyssa felt she was panting like a field hand. “Why didn’t you warn me to wear something suitable?”
Jarid looked down at her. “Because someone might have seen you dressed that way and told Uncle.” He turned back to the rocks and continued working his way upwards. “Besides, we’re almost there.”
Watching his tall, lean body disappear over the stone ledge, her eyes narrowed. How dare he expect her to scramble about in the dirt and rocks like some Houseless urchin!
Jarid’s head, black against the indigo night sky, reappeared above the rocks. “Hurry up!” He held up a bottle. “I brought wine, as well as food and—” He paused. “—a silsha-fur throw.”
Alyssa glanced down at her precisely shaped nails, gleaming faintly in the moonlight, and sighed. Well, perhaps she could wear gloves at tomorrow’s ceremonies. Then she shook her head. There weren’t going to be any ceremonies anyway. The brat was dead.
“Alyssa!” The cork popped.
“All right!” she hissed, hitching her long skirts up with one hand. “I’m coming.”
Ten minutes later, scratched and dirty, she pulled herself up to the last boulder and looked over. Jarid lounged back on one elbow on a blanket spread in a small hollow, holding a glass of wine in one hand.
“You seem to be out of shape, Aunt.” He eyed her over the top of the goblet.
Alyssa collapsed on the boulder, rubbing her scratched and bruised palms together. “I’m not some chierra wench you can just order around, Jarid Tal Ketral. I am a well brought-up Lady.”
“Indeed you are.” He handed her the goblet and poured another for himself. “And you never let me forget it.”
She sniffed the wine before taking a sip: sweet amber callyt from several years ago, a tolerable vintage. She took a small sip and let it burn a fiery trail down her throat.
Jarid laughed. “I know I’m being a terrible tease, but I just couldn’t resist.” He patted the blanket beside his long legs. “Say you’ll forgive me.”
His bright-gold hair shone in the moonlight, one lock dangling in his eyes in the most boyish way. “You’ve been very cruel.” She combed her fingers through his thick hair, and tilted her head back for another warming sip of the amber wine.
His arm reached up and enfolded her waist. She bent her knees and settled on the blanket beside him, enjoying his warmth against the briskness of the spring night.
“I have to be. Otherwise Uncle Dervlin would suspect us and everything would be ruined.” He traced the line of her jaw with his forefinger all the way down to the pulse point in her throat. “You’re good at shielding, but not that good.”
She jerked away from his touch. “Then when are you going to get rid of the bloody old fool? I don’t know how much more of this I can stand!”
“Tomorrow, as a matter of fact.” He drained the glass and reached for the wine bottle. “Drink up.”
She tipped her own goblet and savored the wine’s bite on her tongue. The twisted knot of anger and frustration in her stomach eased. The wine was a more unusual vintage than she had first thought, unexpectedly potent. Above her, the frosty stars wheeled as though a giant’s carriage was rolling across the heavens. “How—are you going to d—do it?” Her lips had grown numb.
He laughed and pulled the glass from her stiffening fingers, then smoothed a wisp of hair back over her right ear. “Me, Aunt?” He smiled, his strong white teeth glinting through the dimness. “No, it’s you, Birtal Senn’s granddaughter, who will send Dervlin Tal down into Darkness. And what a scandal that will be. I can hardly wait to watch the Houses scramble to take advantage of your little, shall we say, indiscretion.”
* * *
Waiting in Master Ellirt’s rooms, Haemas drew the scratchy wool of the borrowed cloak more closely around her shoulders. The small study off the bedchamber was sparely furnished, but comfortable with shuttered windows and a blazing fire in the hearth. Still, she felt nervous and edgy with Kashi minds murmuring all around her. She’d never been this close to so many of her own kind before. If they were aware that she was here, if they had any idea what she had done—
Her hands clenched. She couldn’t think about that, or she would lose the control for which she had fought so hard and the flames would come back. She tucked her feet up in the overstuffed chair, rubbing the aching muscles in her neck. Down in the garden, she had let herself be lulled for a moment by Master Ellirt’s
assurances, but it was just a ruse. Her father was dead by her own hand and she was in danger as long as she stayed in the Highlands. As soon as she knew Kevisson was all right, she would go back to the ilseri.
A light rap sounded, then Master Ellirt opened the door. His craggy, weather-seamed face was creased with worry. She rose. “Kevisson?”
“He’s sleeping now. I had one of our healers attend him, but it seems there’s really nothing much wrong except malnutrition and exhaustion.”
“I’m glad.” She sank back down on the wing-backed chair and turned her eyes again to the flickering yellow flames. “In spite of what I’ve done, he tried to help me.”
“Kevisson understands better than most what it is to be friendless.” Ellirt pulled up another chair and eased his bulk into it. “You’ve had a very rough time, haven’t you?”
She listened to the crackling fire for a moment, feeling waves of weariness sweep over her. How long had it been since she’d slept? She rested her head against the padded back of the chair. “You want to know what I did to my father.”
His face was grave as he folded his hands across his well-worn leather belt. “Actually, I think it’s more important for you to find out what happened.”
Her fingers tightened on the chair’s arms. “I already know.” The wrenching memory swept back over her again, the pallid hand brushing the toe of her boot, Jarid’s laughter.
Ellirt shook his white-haired head. “You only know what you think happened.”
“You’re trying to trick me!” A knot of shame and guilt closed her throat. “He’s not holding a Naming tomorrow because I killed him!”
“He isn’t dead.” Ellirt leaned forward in his chair, projecting calm concern. “Come look in my mind and see for yourself if I’m lying.”
She felt the old man’s shields dissolve before her and stared at him with disbelieving eyes.
“Are you afraid to find out?” he asked gently.
She stood hesitantly, letting the cloak slip off her shoulders to the floor. “I’m—not very good at this.”
Come and see, little one. I have nothing to hide.
Haemas stretched a trembling hand toward the wrinkled head, closing her eyes as her fingers brushed his warm temple. The brightness of his mind lay before her . . . a great golden House with many rooms . . . all the doors standing wide open.
Suddenly Lord Senn’s gravelly voice froze her heart. “Send me a Searcher, you old rock barret, the best you’ve got.”
“Is someone lost?” Master Ellirt’s voice inquired.
“It’s the Tal brat. She’s half-killed her father and run off to the Light-knows-where.”
“Very sad,” Ellirt said quietly. “Of course Shael’donn will be glad to help.”
The conversation faded, then she caught Alyssa’s familiar floral scent.
“Master Ellirt!” Alyssa’s voice was light and airy. “You should have told us you were coming.”
“I’ve come to see your Lord husband, my dear. Perhaps there’s something Shael’donn could do for him yet.”
“Oh, he’s much too weak for visitors, Master Ellirt.” Haemas felt Alyssa’s hand under his elbow. “But it was kind of you to come all this way.”
Even as Alyssa’s voice faded away, Haemas heard her father’s angry voice.
“Damnation, Kniel, I want her brought back!” Dervlin Tal coughed and moved restlessly under the covers.
“We’re doing our best, Dervlin. You know that,” Ellirt replied.
“Well, your best isn’t good enough then!” She sensed how her father attempted to rise, then fell back against the pillows. “Put a real man on the case,” his hoarse voice rasped. “The little skivit has to be brought back by her Naming Day or—”
Haemas snatched her hand away as though she had grasped a burning brand. She heard a great roaring in her ears. “He was dead,” she said as her heart thundered against her ribs. “I saw him. He was!”
Ellirt stood and felt her icy fingers and face. “I’m an old fool,” he murmured, turning away from her and rummaging through his shelves. A moment later, he pressed a small glass into her freezing hands. “Sit by the fire and drink this.” He eased her into the high-backed chair, then wrapped the cloak around her shoulders once more.
The room seemed dim, his words distant and unreal. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think. Ellirt pushed the glass to her lips. She took a sip, then choked as the bitter liquid burned down her throat.
Ellirt patted her on the back encouragingly and nodded. “That’s better. I should have foreseen what a shock that would be.”
“He’s not dead.” She stared numbly at her shaking hands. The ghostly flames of her fear and guilt laughed in the back of her mind. She shivered.
“No.”
Every corner of her mind felt frozen. “How can that be?”
“Drink another sip of that brandy.” He guided the tumbler back to her lips.
She swallowed, struggling not to cough as it brought tears to her eyes.
He settled across from her, the firelight casting shifting shadows over his concerned features. “Now, then,” he said. “What we must do next is find out what really happened that night. Do you have the courage to go that far?”
“I only know what I remember,” she said slowly. The brandy was melting the cold knot of ice in her middle, creating instead a creeping warmth in her fingers and toes. “If that’s not what happened, I have to know!”
“I can help you look within and find the truth.” He made a triangle of his thumbs and forefingers. “If you are willing.”
“But the ilseri.” Suddenly she blinked and looked at the door. “I have to go back.”
“We’ll talk about that later.” He reached out and trapped her hand between his two gnarled ones. “Think, little one. Maybe you are responsible for what happened, but my instincts say not, and, if you didn’t strike down your father, someone else did. The High Houses are always at each other’s throats. He could still be in great danger.”
“But I’ve relived that night a thousand times since—” She bit her lip, trying to shut away the chilling vividness of the dead body sprawled at her feet. The flames crept smoldering through her mind. She drew a long shuddering breath.
Master Ellirt’s tiny golden eyes, almost hidden in the folds of his face, reflected the firelight, seeming to look straight at her, although she knew he could not.
“It will take a skilled and clever Talent to find the truth of this puzzle.” He lifted a white eyebrow. “Fortunately for you, my dear, that is exactly what I am.”
She knotted her fingers together to keep them from trembling. Guilt and shame yammered at her—if she let him into her mind, he would see what she had done for dark, unspeakable reasons she couldn’t even remember. Deep inside, in spite of everything, she still knew she had killed him.
“We might as well begin.” Blunt fingertips brushed her forehead. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
As her eyes fluttered, Summerstone’s voice came back to her . . . Fear is but a sister whispering in your ear.
Yes, Haemas thought, but this time her fear was whispering that something horrible lay buried deep beneath the flames’ smoldering anger.
Center down.
She felt Ellirt’s no-nonsense presence hovering near. One by one, she blocked her other senses, seeking that quiet place in her mind where nothing of the outside could intrude. Gradually her tight muscles relaxed, the sounds of the fire, her own breathing, her heartbeat faded.
Now let me find the way, he told her. Go deeper, until you can see that night. Don’t be afraid. Whatever happens, I’ll be with you.
She felt her thoughts blurring, drifting . . .
* * *
Family dinner . . . she stood at the dining room door, her palm pressed to the satiny wood.
Elli
rt watched Haemas clasp cold, white fingers together as the old chierra seneschal, Pascar, opened the massive door. Jarid turned his light eyes to her, eyes so much like, yet totally unlike her own. “Come in, Cousin.”
She glanced at the long table. “Where’s Father?” Only Alyssa, her stepmother, and Jarid, the orphaned son of her father’s sister, were waiting to eat.
Something was wrong. Pascar moved quietly around the huge table, lighting the tall twisted candles for the evening meal. Jarid’s eyes followed him impatiently. “Out!” he demanded as the last flame took hold. Pascar dropped his brown chierra eyes and bowed, then closed the door behind him.
Haemas slid into her accustomed place. Jarid lounged back against the intricately carved wood of his chair and stretched his arms over his head like a carnivore limbering for the hunt. “You want to know where your father is, skivit?” He winked. “Why should you care? He’s never had any use for you.”
Alyssa’s amused eyes gleamed over the hand she used to mask her smile.
Haemas realized her own hands were clenched around the table’s edge. With an effort, she dropped them. “I don’t believe I’m hungry,” she said faintly, holding her shields very tight so no sense of her unease would escape. “Please excuse me.” Nodding to her stepmother, she began to rise.
“Not so fast, Cousin.” Steel rang in Jarid’s arrogant voice.
Without meaning to, Haemas found she had dropped back into her seat.
“I have a little something for you.” His sense of interest in her became stronger, sharpening into something closer to . . . ownership. “Something which I trust you will not find unappealing.”
Haemas tore her gaze away from Jarid’s compelling ice-pale eyes. “I want to go.”
“Very well, then, skivit, by all means, go.” His tone mocked her. “But first, you must drink a toast with us.”
Frozen, she watched as his steady hand poured dark-red tchallit wine into the green crystal goblets set before each place. His sense of triumph was so strong, she knew he was not even bothering to shield. He handed one goblet to Alyssa, the next to Haemas, reserving the last for himself.
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