‘I am in mourning,’ Lae said at last, ‘and am required not to speak for forty days. I obey by my presence, My Lady, but would appreciate brevity on your part.’
The words were like a slap. A velvet-gloved slap, but a slap all the same. ‘Very well,’ Khatrene said stiffly and gestured towards the couch. Lae limped to it and sat, uncaring that in her present condition she might ruin the delicate fabric.
Had she been caught in a storm while performing a final ceremony in the great hall? If her current behaviour was anything to go by, she’d probably ignored the tempest and continued the ritual while rain from the opened ceiling drenched her. At least those attending would have been impressed by her courage. She was the youngest ever to take on the mantle of The Dark, and the first woman in ten generations. It would be like Lae to feel she had something to prove, but Khatrene doubted this new formality was related to her office. From what Pagan had said, Lae’s shutdown was all about Lenid.
Khatrene wanted to ask her why she hadn’t let Pagan heal her foot, but the girl’s icy manner was formidable, so she simply sat and said, ‘I want to speak to you about my daughter.’
‘My most abject sympathy for your loss,’ Lae said, her gazed fixed on a spot just to the right of Khatrene’s face, no trace of warmth in either her voice or her expression.
Khatrene hadn’t known what to expect, but this level of callousness from a woman who had just lost her own son wasn’t it. And worse, ‘That sounded like something your father would have said.’ The comparison was chilling, accentuated by the swirling tattoo that covered Lae’s right cheek and forehead. The same tattoo Djahr had worn, the symbol of The Dark. ‘What’s happened to you?’
Lae’s expression might have been cast in stone. ‘What does The Light require of me?’
If they’d had watches on Ennae, Khatrene was sure Lae would have looked at hers. And the girl could well limp out on her, duty or not, so Khatrene set her disquiet aside to concentrate on the issue at hand. ‘I believe my daughter is alive,’ she said. ‘Perhaps still on Ennae.’
‘If she is at Be’uccdha I will inform you immediately,’ Lae said and made to rise.
‘That’s not all.’ Khatrene raised a hand and Lae lowered herself back onto the couch, her gaze fixed over Khatrene’s shoulder again.
‘My Lady,’ she said obediently.
‘I wanted to tell you how sorry I was to hear about Lenid … about his death.’
Lae’s jaw tightened but apart from that she made no response.
‘I know you must have loved him very much.’
‘If that is all?’ Lae asked.
It was, but Khatrene wanted to keep Lae there, to crack through the wall she’d built around herself. Pagan was frantic with worry for her and now Khatrene could see why. ‘I want to speak to you about your duties as The Dark,’ she said, not sure where she was leading.
This caught Lae’s attention. ‘I am able to fulfil my office from Be’uccdha,’ she replied, meeting Khatrene’s eyes. ‘With The Catalyst dead, my services are more necessary than —’
‘For a start, my daughter is not dead,’ Khatrene said, letting anger slide in. ‘And secondly, what can you do to stop the Maelstrom destroying the Four Worlds?’
‘The role of The Dark has always been crucial to our survival,’ Lae pointed out, her own voice taking on a sharper edge. ‘The darkness that comes to cover the land has been held back by the pious —’
‘That’s crap,’ Khatrene cut over her. ‘The darkness is nothing more than an eclipse that —’
‘I have heard your story of moons before the sun,’ Lae replied, ‘yet why is it that we have seen no darkness since Glimmer’s birth?’
That stopped Khatrene in her self-righteous tracks. She’d been on the Airworld of Atheyre and had simply assumed that … ‘No eclipses since then?’
‘Not one,’ Lae said, and her sharp tone reminded Khatrene of the bitchiness Lae had once been renowned for. ‘The illusions of Magoria are not universal,’ Lae said. ‘And my powers will serve Ennae.’
‘In what capacity?’
‘Comfort the people before they die.’
‘There’s a defeatist attitude if ever I heard one. Don’t you have anything new to offer? Any hope?’
Lae’s eyes narrowed. ‘Perhaps you should ask your royal brother,’ she snapped. ‘He appears to have oracles speaking to him.’
Khatrene felt the breath slide out of her lungs and her anger shrivelled into apprehension. This ‘oracle’ must be the voice she suspected Mihale heard in his mind, the same voice Khatrene had heard when she’d first come to Ennae. It wasn’t possession of the body, but Lae might not care to make that differentiation. And denouncement as one possessed was a death sentence. ‘What oracles are you talking about?’ she asked carefully.
‘Your brother knew that his son was born with a halo of blood,’ Lae said. ‘Kert Sh’hale and the midwife who birthed Lenid were the only ones, apart from myself, who knew of that portent, and they carried the knowledge to their graves.’
It must have been the voice. ‘A portent?’ Khatrene said, wondering if she could distract Lae. ‘What did the halo of blood mean?’
‘That the child would not live to rule.’
‘So you knew he would die young?’ Khatrene asked, and immediately the words were out of her mouth she willed them back. It was tantamount to suggesting Lae shouldn’t be sad when clearly she had every right to be, portent or no. But Pagan was right. Grief was turning into obsession and if she wasn’t stopped soon she might not find her way back.
A glistening sheen covered Lae’s eyes, then she blinked and her chin rose. ‘I go now to Be’uccdha,’ she said, ‘where I will do my duty as The Dark. Please give the King my most obedient farewell and thank him for not inflicting a husband upon me at such a … busy time.’
‘Yet Pagan will accompany you, as Champion to The Dark,’ Khatrene said, hoping Lae hadn’t found a way to thwart that command.
‘And the dead Plainsman will be dutifully returned to his people. I obey my king,’ she said tonelessly.
Khatrene nodded, thankful that Lae was unaware of how he’d died. If she knew her king had murdered him, she might put her own grief aside to investigate his ‘oracular’ abilities more closely. Khatrene had been stunned herself when Mihale had mentioned it in casual conversation. Admittedly he’d grown up thinking of the Plainsmen as enemies of the throne, and had never met or befriended any, as Khatrene had, but to kill one in cold blood? And an old one at that.
Yet before she could fathom what possible motive he might have had, he’d retired with a migraine and been unavailable ever since. Guilt? She hoped so, but ordering Breehan’s body returned to his tribe didn’t sound like an act of contrition. Quite the opposite. It was more likely to stir up their old hatreds. Better to let them believe Breehan had died of old age. Still, at least Mihale hadn’t ordered Pagan to kill the rest of the Plainsmen. From what they’d viewed in the seeing-storm there were precious few left.
Talis might be able to help her make sense of it but she hadn’t seen him since the previous afternoon — busy with matters of defence, Mihale had said, which made her uneasy. Not only that, it was out of character for Talis to stay away from her, but Mihale had been oddly watchful when he’d told her, as though he’d deliberately kept Talis busy to see how she would react. So either there was something wrong with her brother beyond having been revived from the dead, or Talis’s paranoia about their love being ‘unfitting’ was rubbing off on her.
‘If you are finished with me I shall take my leave,’ Lae said and stood, her chin up, the power of her position obvious now in her stance and in her gaze.
No arguing this time. Khatrene rose also, checking the sudden impulse to hug Lae. It would only embarrass them both. Their friendship was clearly over. ‘I wish you happiness, Lae,’ she said sincerely. ‘And I hope you find a love, as I have with Talis, that can overcome pain and bring peace to your soul.’
Lae stared at
her, and for the briefest moment Khatrene thought she saw her facade of control falter. ‘Each of us finds but one great love,’ she said. ‘And now my son is dead.’
Khatrene closed her eyes, unable to stop the tears that brimmed her lashes. So much pain. They had all suffered so badly, lost so much. She opened her eyes and the room swam in front of her, but she found the composure to nod at Lae, who turned her stony gaze away and limped out awkwardly, her shoulders stiff.
Khatrene sat back down on the couch and cried then, for Lae who had lost her beloved son, and for Pagan whose heart she was breaking. Was this why Khatrene wouldn’t believe that Glimmer was dead? Because she couldn’t bear to go through what Lae was? If Talis was here he would remind her of what she still had: her brother returned from death, the hope that her daughter still lived, his undying love. It didn’t matter that the Maelstrom was coming. They were safe inside the Volcastle while the sky-mirror anchored it.
There was nothing to do but wait. If Glimmer was alive, Khatrene was sure that her daughter would come to her.
Faith. When all else failed …
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Glimmer woke, not contentedly as was her recent habit. This time she snapped awake, and with awareness came a revisiting of the reason she had forced sleep upon herself. Kert was making love to another woman and it was all her fault.
Instantly a sick swirling filled her stomach as she remembered her illogical reaction to the intruding Domedweller. One look at Kert with his hands on the woman and Glimmer had lost what little control she had managed to retain. When she had stormed into the bathing cave, she had raged against herself for what seemed like hours, for her stupidity, her childish petulance.
Then, to have facilitated the infidelity herself! She should have suffocated the woman silently while she lay under Kert’s hand — let him think he had throttled her accidentally. But no, in her jealous fury she had not only displayed her powers to Kert, she had given him the perfect tool to punish her for lying about them. What had she been thinking, arraying the woman in such a seductive tableau? That Kert would reject her and pull Glimmer into his arms?
If she had only once stopped to analyse the situation, she could have saved it from total ruin. But even after the confrontation she had been unable to think clearly, to formulate a plan to turn Kert’s affection back towards herself. Instead she had raged and cried and eventually forced herself to sleep, to shut down the overloaded responses her mind was unused to coping with. Jealousy, like acid, scoured her chest and dripped sick torment into her swirling stomach. The longer she had emotions, the less able she was to control them and the more they splintered her thoughts and obscured the future.
Even the son of the Fire God, still trapped in his egg but stirring deep in the planet’s core, could not waken her to sense. She should be on Ennae, preparing for the joining of the Four Worlds, but instead she remained on Haddash, prisoner to a cycle of desire and frustration that was sending her mad. In an effort to make Kert love her she had focused her total attention on him, patiently, day after day. And now, in the space of one argument, she had thrown all that away.
If only she could let him go and return to the much less exhausting task of controlling the Maelstrom, which, without her involvement, was thankfully progressing as it should. The threads of the future, clouded though they were, still lay in her grasp, and this knowledge allowed her to continue her quest for Kert’s love with a clearer conscience.
Or as clear as it could be knowing that as linear time progressed, the likelihood that she would be able to join the Four Worlds herself was fading. Still, an unlikely saviour had begun to appear in some of the futures. Unfortunately, his arrival on Ennae would hurry the time when she must be separated from Kert and that terrified her. Emotions had insinuated themselves into every part of her thinking and after her last debacle she doubted she would ever be able to control them.
But she must try, and that task would begin with returning to the outer chamber and confronting the consequences of her actions. Much time had passed. She checked the map within her mind. Ten hours. She had to find out what had occurred while she’d slept.
Her eyelids parted and a dark shape beside her moved. Kert. Glimmer flinched, so great was her surprise.
‘I will not harm you,’ he said softly and she reacted instinctively to the tone, her shoulders relaxing back onto the … mattress. In her turmoil of the previous evening she had constructed the bed of her childhood and now lay upon it. Another reminder to Kert of her powers. But he was not looking on her with anger. His gaze was more of concern. ‘I came only to reassure myself of your health,’ he said. ‘The arrival of the intruder seemed to trigger a return of your powers, yet … you reacted …’
‘Inappropriately,’ she agreed, wishing she had thought of this lie herself, but happy to use it now. ‘The shock of the returning strength in my body unbalanced my mind.’
He nodded. ‘For some time I have sensed … unbalance within you, yet did not wish to speak of it.’ His gaze was so intimate, so concerned, Glimmer wanted to swoon into his arms, yet she had wit enough to realise this was the perfect opportunity to sweep away the mistakes of the past.
‘In all my life I have not been without my powers until I came here with you,’ she said, matching his earnest tone. ‘I was vulnerable without them.’
‘You were frightened.’
She nodded and Kert smiled, his hand reaching forward to sweep the sleep-mussed hair from her face, his fingers brushing her cheek. Glimmer could only stare. He had touched her of his own volition, and not in anger.
‘I will protect you for as long as you require me to,’ he said. ‘As you protected me from the Volcastle flames.’
Glimmer nodded. Was this a dream? She longed to enter his mind and wallow in the affection she could hear in his voice, yet she dared not. The madness that had gripped her the last evening must not be repeated. Kert’s emotions would only unbalance her again. He imagined her restored to sanity now and she must do everything possible to convince him that he was correct. ‘I will practise my newly restored powers today,’ she said, ‘and let you know as soon as I am capable of returning you to your king.’
‘When you are ready,’ he said, his gaze dropping for a moment to her lips. ‘We are comfortable here, and quite safe.’
How like a caress his voice had become. Glimmer’s heartbeats quickened and her lips parted as though to speak, but it was several more heartbeats before words emerged. ‘Time passes more slowly on Ennae,’ she said. ‘The hundred days we have spent here have been only four days for Mihale.’
Kert was silent for a moment, yet his gentle expression did not change. At last he said, ‘Then there is no urgency. Come, meet our guest.’ He stood and held out a hand which Glimmer gladly took, letting him pull her from the bed. How strong his fingers felt, yet how gently they clasped her own. And once she was risen he did not release her immediately, but held her hand a moment longer and gazed into her eyes with such openness, such … passion Glimmer wanted to think, but that was not true. His gaze was innocent of that, and she struggled to keep her own desires from surfacing.
‘Her name is Darten,’ Kert said, finally releasing Glimmer’s hand and gesturing towards the cave where the two of them had spent the night.
Jealousy began to rise in Glimmer but she clawed it back down. She was no longer unbalanced in Kert’s eyes. She must act with civility and prove that her previous conduct had been an aberration. Yet even as they stepped through the entry, Glimmer transformed the woman’s clothing back into her original costume, bodice intact, and returned her hair to its former short strands, this time without the firespark show of her powers.
When Kert saw what she had done he made no comment. ‘Glimmer, may I introduce Darten 5.’
The woman looked up from her clothes and scrambled to her feet, cushions falling to the floor around her.
‘Darten,’ Kert went on, ‘this is The Catalyst of whom I spoke,’ as though it was
their first meeting.
The woman nodded, her lips pressed tightly together.
‘I am pleased to meet you, Darten,’ Glimmer said graciously, and looked to Kert who gave her an approving smile. Glimmer smiled back, lost for a moment in his eyes.
‘Darten did not mean to intrude on our privacy,’ he said and Glimmer’s heart quickened. The way he had said privacy, as though it had a secret meaning only they would know.
‘Pleased … meet,’ the woman stammered.
Glimmer favoured her with a glance and realised, now that her jealousy had eased, that there was in fact nothing to be jealous about. Darten was older and more solidly built. Admittedly her breasts were larger, but even as Glimmer gazed at them they reduced in size.
Darten would have felt nothing and would not notice that her form had changed until she moved. Even then it would take time to discern the difference in her physiology. Would she mention it to Kert? Perhaps Darten should also lose her powers of speech.
‘How will you practise your powers?’ Kert asked, and Glimmer frowned.
Darten, who was the object of her scrutiny, cringed in anticipation.
‘I will return our guest to her home.’
‘But her home is destroyed,’ Kert said, and Darten nodded, her eyes wide.
‘Then I shall rebuild it,’ Glimmer replied, turning to Kert. Anything to have the woman gone.
He smiled. ‘Kind as well as beautiful.’
Glimmer’s heart stuttered to a standstill then began to throb a deep tattoo. Kert was gazing at her in her worn jeans and T-shirt, her hair mussed from sleep, and he thought her beautiful?
‘But first some new clothes?’ she asked, and waited until he nodded before transforming their attire. This time she let the glittering sparkles announce her work, and when they dissipated Kert was outfitted in the finest Sh’hale cloth, a simple design of black breeches and a flowing white shirt, while she wore an equally unadorned gown in royal gold that hugged her small breasts and flowed down the length of her body in artful drapes.
Glimmer in the Maelstrom: Shadow Through Time 3 Page 15