by Cindy Dees
“Surely you do not have the authority to induct me into a special Heart order,” she protested.
“I do not. But I happen to know the High Matriarch of Dupree well. She will put you directly into the White Heart if I ask her to, particularly given your extraordinary talents.”
Desperation choked Raina. There had to be some other way … she couldn’t give away her life like this!
Leland handed the tabard to her. “Put it on and you shall be safe.”
She looked up at him, stricken. “But at what price, my lord?”
“Only you can answer that.”
“If you had a daughter my age, would you ask this of her? That she sacrifice the rest of her life to this cause?”
He sat down heavily in his chair as if she’d struck him a grievous blow. “Ahh, child. You know not what you ask of me.”
She gazed at him in anguish. He gazed back at her, his wise eyes sad unto the very depths of his spirit.
She managed barely a broken whisper. “But I’m only sixteen.”
CHAPTER
14
After that one stunning conversation with Talissar, Gabrielle did not see the kindari consort again for some time. It was almost as if he avoided her. But she supposed that made sense. He did say that he and his co-conspirators moved slowly so as not to get caught.
But all of that changed when, yet again, she found herself drawn toward the wild garden. There was something about it that called to her. A compulsion to lose herself in its dark, mysterious shadows and thickets.
“Lady Gabrielle,” Talissar’s deep voice intoned from behind her one afternoon, late. “I feared I might find thee here.”
She waved her guard off a little ways and turned to the kindari elf, curious as to why he chose to show himself here and now.
His voice low, charged, Talissar asked, “Hast thee ever been alone with Lord Tyviden Starfire?”
The question was a startling non sequitur. Rumors hinted that Starfire had been banished from court many years ago. “I beg your pardon?”
“I do not accuse thee of any impropriety,” Talissar hastened to add. “It is just that this was a favorite rendezvous point of Starfire’s.”
Thunderstruck, Gabrielle glanced fearfully around the total isolation of this wild corner of the Garden of Nations. Talissar had alluded to something similar the last time they met here, about a High Lord compelling women to come out here to meet him. The dancing. Her irresistible impulse to come out here alone and begin taking off her clothes—
“I see worry in thine eyes, Your Highness. Hast been alone with him, then?”
“Surely, if he influenced my mind, the effects would have worn off long before now.”
The elf shrugged. “Kothites are timeless beings. Why would their powers not be the same?”
She admitted reluctantly, “I encountered him a long time ago. And we were not entirely alone. But he did … seem rather fascinating to me one night—”
“Of course,” Talissar breathed in sudden comprehension. “I have long wondered what provoked thy knight to strike a Kothite noble. He saw Starfire attempting to influence thy mind.”
Gabrielle’s eyes widened in distress. “Are you saying that I come to this place because Starfire wished it so?” And had Starfire also enjoined her to remove her clothes and dance naked in the forest? Did he laugh into his cups over a queen humiliating herself thus, even now? And then the rest of his words registered. What knight?
Talissar replied slowly, “I cannot be sure he is responsible. But take this.” He removed an ancient-looking and exquisitely decorated gold amulet from around his neck and held it out to her. The medallion was embossed with eight sharp points, four large and four small, arranged in a compass rose. In the center, a large, green gem was mounted. She passed the pad of her thumb across it and a faint warmth emanated from the smooth stone.
“This is an Octavium Pendant. Symbol of the Eight,” Talissar explained quietly. “Seek this symbol if thee ever hast need of me … or,” he added significantly, “… of a friend.”
She looked up at him sharply. He spoke of his conspirators, then. She nodded her understanding.
“Wear it awhile,” Talissar suggested. “Its magic protects the mind from intrusions. See if thy compulsion to come to this place remains. If it does, then thee willst know it to be of only thine own desire.”
“And if not?”
“Then thee hast just cause to worry that Starfire hast somehow influenced thy mind.”
The pendant dangled, heavy, around her neck. She could swear faint warmth from it penetrated her clothing. Starfire. Without warning, the name rolled across her mind along with a flood of memories. A night at court long ago … a fist thrown … Darius.
She reeled so violently that Talissar caught her arm in alarm to steady her.
“Is aught amiss, Your Highness?”
She reached into the bottom of her silk purse and rummaged until she came up with the strange ring she had carried around all these years, a bent and broken signet bearing the heraldry of Haraland upon it. Regalo hadn’t recognized the ring, either. She had only known for all these years that it held a strange attraction for her. She could never bring herself to cast off the odd bauble.
The signet ring was his. Darius’s ring. Given by him to me the night he was banished from court.
“How could I not remember?” she whispered, shaken to the core of her being.
“The Empire takes away memories. Takes history. Takes identities. It is how they steal hope from their subjects.”
They stole my faithful knight, too, for the sole crime of loyally protecting me.
Something of her thought must have crossed her face, for Talissar smiled sadly in sympathy. Then he changed subjects abruptly, asking, “Perchance, rumors are true that inquisitors hast been seen in Haraland with psionic hounds?”
The magical beasts, bred to sniff out people with psionic abilities, had indeed passed through Haraland with their handlers. “Aye. Half a moon cycle past,” she answered. “They stayed with us only a few days. They rested and resupplied, and then went on their way to the east.”
“It is well that thy husband’s thoughts and those of his subjects draw little interest from such guests.”
“Indeed,” she murmured. Talissar’s meaning was clear. Regalo’s mind must remain uncluttered with certain pieces of information so that inquisitors and mind sweeps by the Emperor yielded nothing to raise suspicion.
The elf spoke quietly and quickly. “Hast thee knowledge of a young woman, raised to noble rank, a female falcon avarian by the name of Syreena Wingblade?”
“I have heard of her,” Gabrielle murmured. The avarians were a race of bird changelings not much in favor with the Empire. “Did she not start life as a common indentured servant and rise through the society rather spectacularly to attain a title or something like that?”
“Exactly. She is held up by the Emperor as a shining example of how a peasant can become an important and titled personage.”
Now that he mentioned it, she did remember Maximillian lauding the avarian to the court some months back and calling for minstrels to write songs about her to be sung in pubs and palaces across the land.
“She must needs go to Dupree,” Talissar announced.
“For what purpose?” Gabrielle asked curiously. “Is there trouble in the colonies?”
“I do not know,” Talissar answered. “Sometimes, it is best not to ask. Better that most of us know only one small piece of the larger puzzle.”
Ahh. This was the work of the Eight, then. She asked cautiously, “Is a posting coming available to the colonies, then?”
“Again, Your Highness, I do not know. That would be a question for thy husband, I imagine.”
She nodded her understanding. She was to influence Regalo to argue in the Council of Kings in favor of posting the young avarian noble to Dupree. It sounded harmless enough. Certainly not the sort of thing that anyone could label treasonou
s. And it would not raise any suspicions, not even from her husband. “I will ask him,” she answered simply.
Talissar gave her a short, formal bow and said loudly enough for her guard to hear, “It was a most pleasant surprise to encounter thee, Your Highness. Please give my warmest regards to thy lord husband.”
“Of course. And please send Haraland’s regards to Queen Lyssandra in Quantaine.”
They traded formal bows and passed on their separate ways, him quickly and she more slowly and thoughtfully. So. It had begun. She knew not what “it” might be, but the Eight were active, and that meant some plot was afoot. In the colonies no less. Interesting. Very interesting indeed.
* * *
Raina stared miserably at the White Heart tabard as Leland said persuasively. “Keep it. You don’t have to put it on now. Think about it for a while. It is a big decision and one not to be made rashly or in haste.”
Reluctantly, she held the cloth in her lap. But she was bloody well not putting the thing on! “You cannot know the Heart would even have me as a member, let alone a White Heart member. I thought members of the Royal Order of the Sun and the White Heart had to serve in the regular Heart first and earn their way into the other orders.”
Leland grinned at her. “You’re an arch-mage. Do you have any idea how rare those are?”
Apparently not, for they were commonplace in her family. Yes, she was considered to be particularly talented among her kin, but not so much more so than the others that she was “rare.”
Leland went on, “I guarantee the High Matriarch will grasp instantly how extraordinary you are and why you need the extra protection. Besides. She owes me a favor or two.”
Raina frowned. What sorts of favors? She sensed hints of political forces at work that he was not admitting to. She could understand his wish for her not to fall into the hands of brigands or slavers. But why not the Mage’s Guild or even the governor himself? Surely Leland would garner great favor in the eyes of the governor if he delivered a mage of her talent into Anton’s hands.
Only one logical conclusion followed from the fact that he had not handed her over to Anton. Leland was no great fan of the governor and did not wish for the man to have her power at his disposal.
What was this? A hint of rebellion? Was Leland maneuvering her into a position to help with his own political agenda? If so, why then was he shoving her into the White Heart? Was the Heart itself preparing to oppose the Emperor in some way? The thought was staggering. Was the Eternal Empire showing signs of weakness from within?
“You’re thinking so hard I can all but hear it, child. What goes on in that pretty little head of yours?”
She glanced up at Leland, startled, then pointedly across the room at his guard. “Nothing that bears repeating aloud, I assure you.”
Leland looked first alarmed and then thunderstruck. “Who are you?” he half-whispered.
She was tempted to leave him hanging, but she sensed he truly did have her best interests at heart. “I am your friend, Sir Leland. You need have no fear of me.”
He let out a snort of rueful laughter. “I think if I knew what was good for me I would be terrified of you.”
Of her? Why? Because she saw too much? She said quietly, “I am my mother’s daughter.”
He nodded slowly. “Aye, you are at that. And yet you would forge your own path, free of her influence.” He recited under his breath quietly enough that she didn’t think he meant for her to hear it, “The son shall accept the father’s fate, but the daughter shall refuse the mother’s fate.”
What did he mean by that? She frowned, but then he continued in a normal voice, “Allow me to tell you a little more of the White Heart.”
“Are you so set on forcing that life upon me, then?”
He shrugged. “I merely offer you food for thought.”
She made a silent gesture for him to continue.
“Members of the White Heart sometimes find themselves in a unique position to act as mediators between opposing parties.”
Expecting another lecture, she was startled when he said no more. But then, her own analytical mind took over. Of course. They would be trusted by both sides in disputes because the White Heart would try to preserve the lives of everyone, no matter who the aggrieved parties were. The White Heart’s goal in any dispute would be a peaceful resolution. To achieve that, they would have to push for a fair settlement for both sides.
Leland commented, “Mind you, only a few within the White Heart have the subtlety to take on this additional role. But you, my dear girl, were born to it.”
It was her turn to snort. He had no idea how true that was. She leaned forward, pitching her voice low for his ears alone. “Tell me this, then. Does the White Heart dare to stand between the Empire and its foes?”
He jerked and went rigid in his seat, then relaxed only by slow and forced degrees. He sounded genuinely horrified when he finally choked out, “The Voice himself would not presume to openly defy the Emperor.”
Openly? Did that mean the Heart would do so covertly, however? Aloud, she echoed, “The Voice?” The title sounded familiar, but she could not place it. Her studies had not focused overly much on the current Empire.
Regaining his breath a bit, Leland answered, “The Voice is leader of the entire Heart. The Light is the title of he who leads the Royal Order of the Sun, and The Pure leads your order.”
“It is not my order, sir!”
“Not yet,” Leland replied lightly.
A servant interrupted just then to remind the landsgrave of his upcoming council meeting. Leland nodded impatiently and turned back to her. “I dare not leave you alone, even in my own home.”
“Surely I am not in that much danger,” she blurted.
He grinned briefly. “Not at all. I simply consider you that big a flight risk.”
Chagrin flooded her. She had indeed been planning to bolt at the first opportunity. Although, she had to admit, Leland’s line of reasoning had her intrigued. Where was he going with all this hyperbole?
She reasoned aloud, “The Heart at large does not openly defy the Emperor. But the White Heart … it holds the deep affection of all the common people in every land, does it not? Out of gratitude for its long and peaceful service to them, it is in a unique position to draw together many traditional enemies to a single cause, is it not?”
Leland sucked his breath in sharply between his teeth. “Enough, girl. Say no more. Do not even think it. The Emperor’s hounds are everywhere.”
So. He begged for her silence not because he disagreed with her, but because he feared the Empire would catch wind of her ideas. She was on the right track to sniff rebellion in the offing. Leaning forward, she studied him intently. “This is the real reason you would force me into this tabard, is it not?”
His answer was hoarse. Heartfelt. “For love of the Lady, do not make me answer that, child.”
* * *
Will was not reassured when Captain Krugar dragged him and Rosana to a sprawling, ornate pile of stone that looked exactly as he imagined the Emperor’s palace to be. Krugar strode under the giant raised portcullis, and Will glanced up at its huge iron-clad teeth in dismay. It looked as if they walked into the jaws of a mighty beast. Mayhap that was not so far from the truth.
Krugar did not stop, nor turn either of them loose, even when a few troopers saluted him here and there. He strode into the great stone edifice situated in the middle of the broad bailey, through a shockingly extravagent anteroom of some kind, and into a huge hall.
“Sit. Stay.” Krugar shoved the two of them down onto a bench along one of the walls. He flagged down a soldier and ordered tersely, “Watch those two. Do not let them go anywhere.”
Rosana threw Will a chagrined look sidelong. She’d been thinking about making a break for it, too, had she? Smart girl.
She leaned close and whispered, “Say nothing. We both fall under the Kaer’s protection. The governor would not dare do anything to us without perm
ission from the High Matriarch.”
“Why would she protect us?”
“I am Heart, of course. And you guard me.”
She might be safe, but he was not the least bit confident that some stranger would gainsay the governor for him. His apprehension climbed as important-looking personages began filing to the hall and taking seats at an enormous table in the middle of the room.
He recognized various guild colors, and based upon the gray hair and aged visages of the men and women at the table, he surmised he was looking at the masters and mistresses of the Imperial guilds for the colonies.
People in other colors arrived, too. Rosana murmured identifications of a few of them—the Landsgrave of Delphi, Landsgrave Hyland. Landsgrave Talyn, a nulvari, dark elf. His holding, Talyn, was named after him as he was its first and only holder. His race’s life spans were such that Talyn could expect to rule his holding for centuries to come.
A fourth man outfitted as a landsgrave sat down at the table. “Who is that?” Will whispered to Rosana.
“Gregor Beltane,” she replied promptly. “Landsgrave of Lochnar.” A gypsy landsgrave? Will had heard that a few gypsies remained loyal to the Empire, but he’d never seen one in person.
Over the next few minutes, Rosana identified a Heart adept who temporarily ran the Dupree Heart, adding a murmured comment about the Dupree Patriarch dying recently under unexplained circumstances. Apparently, the Heart had its suspicions as to who was behind it given how she threw a dirty look at the governor’s empty seat, which was more throne than chair.
Alarmed, Will pondered the ugly ramifications of the governor assassinating a high-ranking Heart member until she pointed out a handsome solinari just coming in. The shining golden skin of the sun elf was hard to miss.
“The yellow elf with pointy ears is the Mage’s Guildmaster Aurelius,” she murmured.
Will caught his breath sharply at that. Aurelius was the guildmaster? Will’s father had sent him to speak to the highest-ranking Mage’s Guild member in all of Dupree? He studied the elf closely and was stunned to realize that nearly all the blazons on the guildmaster’s chest were identical to the ones he’d seen on his father’s chest on that fateful night in Hickory Hollow.
