Prophecy

by Sharon Green

  “That woman made a point of mentioning how clumsy and awkward I was just so that no one would notice her own shortcomings,” Rion said aloud, finally seeing that part of it more clearly. “No wonder she took me almost everywhere she went. People were so busy resenting my intrusion, they hadn’t the time to see how badly she did.”

  “People like that aren’t really as confident as they pretend to be, my love,” Naran answered as her hand tightened around his. “On the inside they’reoften afraid they aren’t as good as they’resupposed to be, so they belittle others to disguise their own lacks—usually mostly from themselves. Don’t let the thought of her disturb you.”

  Considering the situation, Rion decided to take that very sound advice. So he put all thought of that woman aside for later contemplation, and gave his full attention to the areas where they walked. The wing was large and much of it was hidden behind closed doors, but eventually they approached one closed door which made Naran slow and stop.

  “I believe that that’s the place, my love,” she said, staring at the closed door. “Can you detect anything yourself?”

  “There are three displacements of air inside the room which ought to represent three human beings,” Rion replied as he looked around. “You seem to have been correct about that, but I haven’t been able to find any other indication of human presence in quite some distance. That makes me curious to learn what sort of trap this might be.”

  And with that Rion moved ahead alone, telling Naran without words that she was to enter, if at all, only behind him. The sweet girl compromised to that extent, at least, and followed him without protest. What a marvelous thing it was, to have a woman who truly was one with you…

  Opening the door revealed a large, well appointed sitting room, and all three of the people within it came to their feet at his appearance. Rion recognized the two older people as Tamrissa’s parents, but it was the one he didn’t really know who spoke.

  “What in blazes are you doing here, Mardimil?” the man demanded, his angry annoyance obvious. “I’ve been waiting for someone else entirely!”

  “Then that must mean you’retheir Fire magic user,” Rion said with sudden insight, now understanding why Tamrissa’s parents were present. “Were you foolish enough to believe that they would give you some sort of hold over Tamrissa? Don’t you have any idea of how she feels about those two pieces of offal?”

  “One of them is less than that,” Naran put in suddenly while the Fire magic user—a Lord Bron something, Rion finally recalled—scowled and the two others began to sputter indignantly. “That man is the one I told you about, the wealthy man who decided he wanted me for his use alone. I have no idea how much gold he spent sending men to chase after me, but happily every copper of it was wasted.”

  “He did what?” the woman demanded, turning to look at her husband with the deadliest daggers Rion had ever seen. “He spent my gold on what?”

  “Nonsense, my dear, the trollop is lying,” the man replied, charm and ease fairly oozing out of him. “They’resimply trying to make trouble between us, which will certainly be to their benefit.”

  “Why would we care about making trouble for you people?” Naran countered with a sound of ridicule, more confident and self assured than Rion had ever seen her. “You don’t count for anything at all in this, not as unimportant as you are. And you needn’t take my word for what I’ve said. I’m not the first or only girl he’s gone after, so you can ask any of the others.”

  “The others,” the woman growled, not having moved her glare even a single inch from her husband. “And you needn’t bother wasting all that charm on me, Storn Torgar. The more you use it the more you’relying, and if I don’t know that, no one in this world does.”

  “No, no, my dear, you’requite mistaken,” Torgar tried, his smile having turned sickly. “There’s not an ounce of truth to what the woman says, so you must continue to put your trust in me. I am, after all, your husband, so—”

  “You’remy husband now,” the woman interrupted in frosty tones, clearly not swayed in the least. “If we manage to survive this horrible mess, we’ll soon see how quickly that can be changed and I can be gone. And we’ll also see how much I can take with me of that fortune you’reso proud of.”

  For Torgar, the true horror obviously lay in what his wife had said. He stared at her with eyes wide and mouth feebly trying to protest, and the man Bron Something made a sound of scornful impatience.

  “Now that the truly weighty matters have been settled, let’s get back to the negligible reason we’rehere in the first place,” he said to Rion. “You and your friends got our note, I trust?”

  “If you’reabout to break the news about the poisoned paper, you’rea bit late,” Rion responded with a faint smile, wondering how anyone called noble could ever have impressed him as superior. “Our Earth magic user has already done it for you, happily before any of us touched it. I’m not surprised that your own Earth magic user didn’t warn you that that might happen. We’ve been told that he also failed to keep the rest of you from being poisoned yourselves, and he may not even have let you know how little time you actually have left.”

  “What do you mean, how little time we have left?” the man demanded, his frown tinged faintly with fear. “We’reperfectly all right—with the help of our Earth magic user—and we’regoing to stay that way.”

  “Not with the counteragent rather than the antidote you aren’t,” Rion disagreed with a headshake. “The counteragent works only for a little while, and then you need the antidote or you die. It occurs to me that we might help you get that antidote—if you decide to be intelligent about this confrontation thing. If you refuse, I’ll have no choice but to do my best to destroy you.”

  “You, destroy me?” the man said with a snort of ridicule, immediately stiffening at the prior suggestion. “I’ve been given the very pleasant task of killing whomever walked in here, and that’s exactly what I mean to do. You’ll die like the peasant you’ve become, Mardimil, and once it’s done I’ll laugh long and well.”

  And with that a heavy curtain of fire flared, one which was meant to incinerate both Rion and Naran. Naran gasped and flinched a bit, but when neither heat nor flame was able to touch them, she understood that Rion remained completely in control. He glanced at her with a smile of reassurance, and then returned his attention to the “noble.”

  “I haven’t ‘become’ a peasant, you fool, I was born one,” he said to the man, pride widening his smile into a grin. “Since you can’t possibly understand how marvelous that fact is, allow me to show you.”

  As it was now Rion’s turn to exercise a talent openly, he added to what he’d already done. The wall of hardened air which protected them was more in the way of a sphere, and now Rion reached through that sphere to touch the so-called lord. The instant the man’s air was cut off he began to choke, and the flames ravening toward them suddenly disappeared.

  “Most nobles are much too good to do more than one thing at a time,” Rion said, watching the husky man sink slowly to his knees. “Since I’ve discovered myself to be a peasant, however, it’s no longer shameful for me to practice both defense and attack. What a pity you refused my earlier offer, as now I’m afraid it’s been withdrawn.”

  Rion had added that last because the man seemed to be begging for his life without words, and to grant him the boon now would be pure foolishness. A “noble” will promise anything to save himself, he knew, and once that end was accomplished the promise would be promptly forgotten. No, better to let matters continue on to a proper finish, making certain that the Fire magic user never became a problem again.

  “I think we can leave now,” Naran murmured after another pair of moments, staring at the body of the man who now lay stretched out on the expensive carpeting. “The line of his life comes to a very abrupt end in just a few minutes, so you needn’t worry about having to face him again in the future. He no longer has a future.”

  “Very well,” Rion a
greed with a nod as he released his hold, trusting Naran’s advice implicitly, and then he turned to the two people who had cringed back when the confrontation first began. “You two are free to leave now, but allow me to offer a bit of advice. Don’t ever let Tamrissa hear from or see you again, or I’ll personally find you wherever you may be hiding and I’ll do to you what I did to that one. Assuming, of course, that my Blending brothers don’t make the same effort before me…”

  Rion showed the nastiest smile he was capable of as he let his words trail off, and the two paled and jumped a bit. Then the woman glared at her husband and sailed off toward the door, clearly intending to do as she’d promised. Obvious panic sent the man scuttling after her, his words a begging and mewling as they faded into the distance.

  “You have my very great thanks for not having killed him, love,” Naran said with a chuckle as she took Rion’s arm. “Now he’ll live to suffer in the same way he’s made so many others do, and there’s only the smallest, slightest chance that he’ll recover from what his wife puts him through. Financially speaking, of course.”

  “Of course,” Rion agreed, putting his hand over hers where it lay on his arm. “Being destitute will do that man no end of bad, and seeing it will do his former victims no end of good. Now let’s go and see what bad and good has befallen our Blendingmates.”

  Naran smiled and nodded, so they headed for the door. Rion would have worried a good deal more if Naran had been upset, but since she wasn’t he would do his best to emulate her. But he really did need to know…

  * * *

  Bron Kallan regained consciousness slowly, his heart pounding with fear and the efforts of his lungs to resupply him with air. It was something of a shock to realize that he still lived, and the confusion in his mind added to the shock. It was as though something had broken and come loose in there, leaving his mind disoriented and floundering around. And his memories…

  “Yes, dear, of course you can do as you please,” his mother had always told him lovingly, his father nodding his agreement. “You are our son, after all, so no one has the right to deny you. And of course it will always be that way, so you just ignore anyone trying to tell you differently.”

  Maybe they hadn’t quite used those exact words, but Bron had known that that was what they’d meant. If his parents denied him nothing, who else would be able to? The point had seemed extremely clear to the child he’d been, but the adult he became hadn’t found it to be entirely true. His parents continued to deny him nothing—for the most part—but others didn’t behave the same, nor did they change their stance once Bron explained matters. More often those people laughed, and some pointed out that they were raised to expect the very same. How, then, could Bron never be denied if they were to be treated like that?

  And those who laughed were either more powerful politically or their parents were, so there was nothing Bron could do to change matters. The excellent governmental position he’d taken for granted that he’d be given never came to be, and that had added to Bron’s bitterness and resentment—and confusion. He had no idea why his parents had lied to him, but it was beyond argument that they had.

  Just as Delin—and Kambil before him—had lied. They’d assured Bron that he would have no trouble besting a silly woman, and not a single word about the possibility that it would be a man he would have to face instead. A man who had had no trouble fending off his fires, a man who wasn’t in the least troubled by being called a peasant. Somehow Mardimil had learned the truth about himself, and rather than being devastated he was delighted. The man must be mad…

  Bron made the effort to get to his feet, but his first movement resulted in sudden agony in his middle. His first thought, that he’d hurt himself falling, was quickly dismissed, as he’d only fallen from the height of his knees. No, the pain he felt was more reminiscent of what he’d felt before Delin had given him the counteragent, but it couldn’t be the poison troubling him again. He’d had his dose right on time that very morning, and shouldn’t need another until—

  That was when Bron remembered what Mardimil had said to him, about Delin having failed to tell him the truth. The poison and the counteragent… Now the poison was winning again, and it would take the antidote to save his life. He had to get up and find Delin, who had probably been hiding the antidote to use as another lever against them—

  Screaming agony ended Bron’s second attempt to rise almost before it began, tearing him apart and forcing him into a curling on the floor. The pain was worse now, he was certain it was, but that couldn’t be allowed to stop him. In a moment he had to get up and go looking for Delin, otherwise he might—might—

  “Mother, help me!” Bron tried to scream out, but the pain had grown again. The words turned into a choked whisper, his air was taken again without Mardimil even being there, and then—

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  I hurried into my own corridor as fast as Lorand went into his, fully determined to get all this confrontation business over and done with. Lorand had seemed a bit more edgy than I felt, which was somewhat unusual. During the times of the tests, I’d always been just as jumpy and disturbed as he’d been…

  But things did change, I realized as I walked along, at least for me. I’d grown strong enough on the inside to be only a little worried about the rest of my strengths, just worried enough to keep me from arrogance. I’d been on the verge of arrogance when I’d gone out in Widdertown to face those five Fire talents alone, but I’d been saved by nearly getting myself roasted. That sort of thing makes you think once no one else is around—and once you stop not caring whether or not you’rekilled. I still hadn’t quite gotten over not caring, and might not for some time to come…

  I sighed as I walked through corridors lined with beauty and wealth, paying less attention to the decorations than to my thoughts. Oh, I did make sure to check each room as I approached it to see if there was body heat to show occupancy, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t also fret about what would happen if we all won over the usurpers. Vallant had tempted me into kissing him again, but did that kiss mean anything? The incredible attraction I felt for him would never change, but what about our relationship? Would there ever really be such an animal, or would we spend the rest of our lives—however long they were—debating proper actions and feelings?

  Knowing that things rarely happened just because you wanted them to, I walked along brooding about just how much effort had to be put into a relationship before it worked out. Along with that question came the one asking if I were capable of putting out that much effort, and the answer was that I didn’t know. I could well decide to try, but would trying count if I failed? What if Vallant tried and failed? How much credit would I give him for making the effort? More than he gave me, or less?

  It took only a few minutes of that to decide that this wasn’t the time to be driving myself crazy with unanswerable questions. It would be humiliating to run smack into the enemy while muttering under my breath about having to find a daisy. The he-loves-me—he-loves-me-not game would do at least as well as I’d done with answering my questions, and right now that seemed the best—and only—way to settle the matter. Pushing it all aside for the moment and thinking about getting attacked was a positive relief, which should give a fairly accurate idea of my state of mind.

  Not long after making that very wise decision, I detected two sources of heat in a room just ahead of me. I paused after making the discovery, wondering if two people meant some kind of trap, then shrugged over the matter and started to walk again. Although I hadn’t been able to fight back, I’d been able to hold my own against a tandem force of five Highs in Fire magic in Widdertown. Even if there were two waiting for me here, it shouldn’t be more than slightly difficult to defeat them.

  The door to the room holding the two people was closed, so I opened it and walked in. I really have no idea whom I expected to see, but finding Lorand’s former friend Hat as one of them certainly wasn’t part of it.

  “I t
hink you’ve made a mistake, young lady,” the other man said as soon as he saw me, both men having come to their feet at my appearance. “One of your colleagues was meant to meet us here, so if you’ll just run along and find him and then send him in your place…”

  “Making someone feel unwelcome doesn’t necessarily also make them feel inferior,” I commented as I walked farther into the room. “Sometimes—like now—it makes the person wonder why you’reso afraid of them that you’redesperate to be rid of them. Do you really think you’ll do that much better against Lorand because you have that spoiled little brat to hide behind?”

  “He can hide behind me all he likes!” Hat snarled, glaring at me as though I were personally responsible for all his ills. He’d also interrupted the other man, but obviously wasn’t aware of it. “I have a score to settle with that so-called friend of mine, and I’m going to—”

  “You’ll do nothing!” I snapped, sick to death of the little boy’s tantrums. “You’ll do nothing because that’s all you’ve ever done, that and blame other people for your failures. You can’t be a High talent just because you want to be, even though you would have deserved it. It would be perfect justice if you got what so many others have.”

  “What are you talking about?” he demanded, but with less force and more disturbance than he’d shown a moment ago. “Being a High talent is the best thing possible—and I am one—so don’t try feeding me any bull. They cheated me of my place and gave it to Lorand instead, and he just let them get away with it. That means I owe him plenty, and it’s time to pay up!”