Gail Z. Martin - COTN 03 - Dark Haven (V1.0)(lit)

by Gail Z. Martin

  When Carina and Jonmarc entered the court­yard, there was a large group lined up outside the manor. "What's going on?" Jonmarc asked a stable hand.

  "Beggin' your pardon, m'lord, but it's the line to see Lady Carina. Word's gotten out to the village that there's a healer here—and a fine one, too. They've started lining up since this morning."

  "She's only just arrived," Jonmarc protested, but Carina touched his hand.

  "It's all right. If they're willing to come out in this weather, they must need a healer pretty badly. I'll get my things. Is there somewhere— maybe in the granary—where I can treat them? Somewhere we can get them out of the wind?"

  Jonmarc leaned down to kiss her. "I'll have the kitchen send down your lunch. I've got some work to do before this evening myself.

  Only finish up by sixth bells—you're the guest of honor tonight, and the Blood Council is coming."

  By the time the tower tolled fifth bells, Cari­na had seen dozens of villagers with complaints from ague to badly-healed bones, and the usual bouts of flux and worms. Carina did not doubt that the vyrkin would come soon. She climbed the stairs, to her new rooms wearily, dusting off her hands on her robe. Carina was surprised, and pleased to find Lisette waiting for her, with a hot kettle o'f tea and a small plate of cakes.

  "I think I'm frozen through completely." Carina moved near the fire. Lisette took Cari­na's cloak and returned with a warm wrap.

  Lisette's smile was genuine. "I hope m'lady finds Dark Haven to be her home for a very long time. We'd heard so much about you as we readied your room, I feel as if you and I had already met."

  "Really?"

  Lisette nodded. Her red hair was wrapped around her head in a long braid, and she was dressed to accompany Carina to the party in a slim-fitting dress of dark blue. "Lord Gabriel's told us quite a bit about your healing skills, and if I'm not overstepping my place to say so, Lord Jonmarc certainly looked happier the nearer the day came for him to go to Margolan to get you."

  Carina lifted the hot cup of tea and cradled it in her hands. "Lady bless! I never expected there to be so many people who needed a heal­er on my first day." She sipped her tea. "I think I understand what Jonmarc was trying to tell me about the Flow. As soon as I started to heal, it felt like there was something draining my energy. Everything took twice as much effort as it should have—like walking against the wind."

  "They're lucky to have you," Lisette said, fluffing out the skirt to Carina's party dress.

  "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 linge
red 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 spent 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 a
ll. 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."