VirtualWarrior

by Ann Lawrence

  Lien heard a drum begin to pound in a low, steady beat. A murmur rose from the crowd around Tol’s tent. Lien knew that Ardra’s lifemate was dead.

  Chapter Seven

  Tol lay covered by a rich cloth decorated with turquoise and gold knotwork embroidery. Some of the symbols were those of the Shield found on Lien’s arm.

  Inside, Ardra felt empty. Tol’s wisdom and patience were irreplaceable. How empty and afraid she felt without the shelter of his power. She was also angry. Tol had taken all of Nilrem’s potion and left her without his support. Nay, left their son without his support. Why had he not seen to the fortress’s rule before ending his life?

  “Tol will be sorely missed,” Samoht said.

  Ardra suspected that Samoht cared less for the passing of an ancient warrior than for the opportunity to lay his hand on her.

  “You will join me in my quarters,” Samoht said. “We need to speak of your keeping now that Tol is dead.”

  “I do not need a keeper,” she said, but to his back, for he had walked away. She closed her eyes and touched her breast, then opened them and touched Tol on the forehead. “I wish you peace,” she said.

  Reluctantly she followed Samoht. As they passed through the camp, she felt someone watching her. It was a strange sensation, almost a touch on her skin, as if she had walked into the gossamer strands of a web and it trailed behind her as she moved.

  She glanced around and saw Lien.

  The black cloak made him almost invisible in the darkness, but it was as if something connected her to him. Why had she ordered Ollach to give Lien the rich garment? What had happened to her fear of the pilgrim?

  Without seeing it happen, she knew he followed. She clasped her hands together within the confines of her cloak. “Samoht, I wish some witnesses to our conversation.”

  Samoht whipped around. “You question my integrity, mistress?” For a moment, his handsome features looked as hard as stone.

  “I question everything.”

  “Whom do you wish? Ralen?”

  “Aye, and Lien.”

  “Leen? Who is he?”

  “Leee-en is how he pronounces his name. He is a pilgrim who saved my life and also served as Listener to Tol’s last words.”

  Samoht glared at her, and she feared he would refuse her. “Summon them.”

  “I’m here,” Lien said, not ten steps behind her.

  Ardra exhaled with relief, not aware she had been holding her breath. “Thank you. Could you fetch Ralen?”

  “Sure. I’ll find him.”

  Ardra watched Lien hurry away. He held a tall walking staff in his hand. What need had he of such a thing? Had he been injured anew? Nay, he moved with the grace of a dark cat. She thought of the Gulap who roamed Nilrem’s mountain. Huge black cats they were, uncanny beasts, wild and untamed. They took the white hart with one blow of a huge paw, tore out its heart with their long fangs. Heat pulsed in her middle.

  Samoht interrupted her thoughts. “The pilgrim’s speech is beyond strange,” he said. “Whence comes he?”

  “He is from beyond the ice fields.” She watched Samoht’s eyes widen, then narrow.

  “You said he saved your life?” His attention shifted from her face to Lien.

  “Aye. I sought Nilrem that he might concoct something to ease Tol’s pain. I was set upon by outcasts. Lien rescued me.”

  “How many of your men did you lose?”

  “None. I was alone.”

  Lien and Ralen approached, and they all followed Samoht to his tent. It was easy to pick it out from the rest; it flew a most distinctive banner—a red rose on a field of black. His personal guard, black-garbed men, each had a rose stitched over his breast.

  There was nothing in the men’s greetings to indicate that Samoht knew Lien. Still, Lien’s roses might still mean he was Samoht’s man—but one too unimportant for him to know personally.

  Samoht held the tent flap open for Ardra and followed her in.

  Inside the tent, a long table was filled with rolls of documents and a map lay stretched out, anchored by Samoht’s seals of office.

  Reclining on his bed couch was Einalem, Samoht’s sister. She had hair so blonde it would appear white in moonlight. Like her brother, she was comely. Even her gown, a silver material that gave a faint hiss as she rose, was a mirror image of Samoht’s, trimmed in the sacred color of turquoise, the embroidery thick at the hem and sleeves. Clasped around her waist was a chain of silver links studded with turquoise. Bartered, it would feed many Selaw families.

  Ardra dropped into a curtsey to Samoht’s sister. Einalem kissed each of Ardra’s cheeks. “I am sorely grieved I could not ease Tol’s suffering.”

  “You are known as the best healer in Tolemac. If you could not save him, then ‘twas his time to go.”

  “Aye. He had reached a great age.”

  Samoht nodded. “He was a fine councilor, and his advice will be sorely missed.”

  Ardra knew that Samoht had rarely taken Tol’s advice, but she nodded assent.

  The tent flap was lifted by one of Samoht’s guards. Ralen and Lien entered.

  Einalem paused in her graceful turn and stared.

  Samoht followed her gaze and frowned.

  Ardra put out a hand to Lien, and after a moment’s hesitation, he took it. She drew him forward. “This is Lien, the pilgrim who saved my life on Nilrem’s mountain. He then saved my life in the Tangled Wood—”

  Einalem interrupted her. “You ventured into the wood? Were you not afraid?”

  “I was well guarded,” Ardra said.

  “You were attacked,” Ralen said. “You had not one archer with you.”

  “Folly,” Samoht said.

  Ardra wished to kick Ralen in the leg. How dare he imply she was not capable offending for herself? “I requested archers, Samoht, as you will recall. You deemed it unnecessary.”

  “I did not think you would be in a cursed place,” Samoht said. “Now let us all be seated and discuss Ardra’s keeping.”

  The more he said it, the more it would be believed that she needed a keeper. “I will sit, but I will not need a keeper.”

  Samoht waved her words aside with a long, elegant hand. “Sit. Sit. Einalem, send for meat and wine.”

  As Einalem moved past the men, she paused a bare moment near Lien, and Ardra watched the woman slide her glance up and down him. Anger flared through Ardra. Nay, not anger—’twas jealousy. Jealousy? It could not be. Jealousy was a shameful emotion.

  They took seats on low benches, Lien beside her and Ralen alone. Samoht took the only chair, an ornately carved thing which she knew served as a symbol of his authority when the council gathered in remote locations.

  Einalem returned with several servants bearing covered trays. The cold had tightened her nipples, and it did not escape Ardra that both Ralen and Lien looked at her breasts. Were men all alike no matter whence they came? Was it naught but a pretty face and large breasts that drew them?

  Einalem draped herself on Samoht’s bed couch. Ralen and she chatted a moment while the servant set up a jointed table in the center of their small group. How dare Ralen smile and whisper with Samoht’s sister?

  Anger, hot and raw, filled Ardra. Then she reminded herself of one of Tol’s many lessons. Never let an opponent see you angry. She wiped her face clear of emotion. She accepted neither food nor drink. Her hands might shake and betray her emotions.

  “Now,” Samoht said once the servants were gone. “Tol summoned the high eight here to the Selaw border while I await my child’s birth. I fear the journey shortened Tol’s life, however. I imagine he wished to ask the council that you,” he indicated Ralen with the point of a small dagger he was using to pare an apple, “take his seat until a more permanent representative could be found.”

  Ralen accepted a goblet of wine poured by Einalem. “I have no wish to sit on the council, although I am honored to take my brother’s place in the short term.”

  So, Ralen had given a bit, Ardra
thought.

  “Agreed. I shall put it forward on the morrow after we have honored Tol.” They sat in silence, eating their apples and cheese, slicing meat and drinking wine as if her life and that of her people did not hang in the balance.

  “Now, as to the fortress, Ardra.” Samoht leaned forward and patted her knee. “You need not be concerned about its care. I will send my men to see to it.”

  “I ask that you do not. I have ample men of my own.”

  Everyone stared at her. Lien drank from his cup, unmoved by her incredible statement.

  “You know that cannot be. Your men will not heed you.”

  “My men will not wish to heed a Tolemac warrior.”

  “I will send my personal guard, then. They represent me, not Tolemac as such.” Samoht smiled. No warmth was evident in his cold eyes.

  “I thank you, but still I must refuse the offer. I ask only that Tol’s guard escort me home. I will release them to you at that time.”

  Einalem laughed. It was a musical sound. “Oh, Ardra, you are mad.”

  “Hush,” Samoht said. He leaned forward to Ardra again. “Do I understand you correctly? You wish no army, no warriors, to help you hold the fortress?”

  “You understand.”

  “What do you think? Is she mad?” Samoht appealed to Ralen.

  “Tol wished Ardra to rule the fortress,” Ralen said. Ardra silently blessed him that he had not belittled Tol’s last request.

  “What?” Samoht stood up. He fisted his hands on his hips.

  Anger whipped visibly through his body, and Ardra knew why Tol had counseled her not to let her anger show. She now knew the extent of Samoht’s desire for the fortress.

  “What sickness possessed Tol’s mind that he would wish such a thing? He was not of sound mind. Support me in this, Einalem.”

  Lien forestalled Einalem. “I witnessed Tol’s final words. He stated that Ardra should rule. He might have been weak, but he was clear and decisive. I can quote him if you like.” To Ardra’s delight, he did not await permission. “Tol said, and I quote, ‘It is my wish that Ardra take control of the fortress. It is my wish that she, and she alone, rule it for our son until he is of age.’”

  Einalem stared at Lien. “You are bold,” she said.

  Lien shrugged. “I assume my purpose is to be a witness to Tol’s last words. He said Ardra should rule.”

  Ralen cleared his throat. “It is as the pilgrim says, Samoht. Tol was not in any state of madness, and I will not allow you to besmirch his memory with such an idea.”

  “Einalem?” Samoht threw himself back into his chair.

  “What, Brother? I was occupied in my tent, treating a cook’s burn. I did not attend Tol’s final moments. Since I was not there, I cannot speak to his final state of mind.”

  Ardra said to Samoht, “Did you not bring each councilor to Tol’s side as he arrived so that he might make the customary greeting? ‘Tis tradition that you do so, is it not?”

  “Aye.” Samoht’s frown deepened. He knew what she implied by her words. Each time a councilor greeted another of higher station, ancient words were spoken. It was a long and tedious set of speeches when one man was near death. If Tol was capable of remembering his part and greeting each man without prompting from either Deleh or the high councilor, Samoht could not charge that Tol was not of sound mind. That was the purpose of the greeting.

  “Let me understand,” Ralen said. “We have here a vacant council seat. Someone must wish to sit in it, and that person must be deemed worthy. I certainly have no wish to serve, but will sit in the seat as Tol’s brother until another is chosen. Second,” he nodded at Ardra, “we have the issue of the Fortress of Ravens and who will see to its care and that of Tol’s son.”

  “Aye, this would not be an issue if your father had not been treacherous,” Samoht said. He stabbed his finger in Ardra’s direction. “Your father should have been brought here and punished for his crimes.”

  “My father banished himself on the ice. He is dead.”

  “He almost destroyed the treaty between our people. I should have sent an army then and taken control of the ice mines once and for all. Instead, Tol pitied you and took you as his mate.”

  “Tol served the Selaw well,” Ardra said.

  “No one questions that, but it is imperative that a proper authority take Tol’s place. Your father escaped onto the ice, something you allowed and did nothing to stop. For all we know, your father could be mounting an offensive to take back the fortress now that Tol is dead.”

  “No one survives the ice,” Ralen said.

  “No one?” Samoht said. “Lien. Are you not from beyond the ice fields? Tell us. If no one survives the ice, how did you come to be here?”

  Lien tried to keep his tone mild and unassuming. “Actually, I have no idea. I do not remember much of the journey once I reached the ice. I had a raging fever—caught a chill, I guess. In fact, when I found myself on Nilrem’s mountain, I thought I was dead. Of course,” he looked at Ardra, “the minute I saw the men attacking Ardra, I knew I was alive.”

  “He cannot remember.” Samoht threw up his hands. “We should put him to the question.”

  “Nay.” Ardra shot to her feet. “I will not tolerate the torture of a pilgrim. Ralen, surely you will not countenance such a thing.”

  Torture?

  Ralen opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Einalem did. “Ardra, take your seat. Brother, we have no need to examine this man. He has naught to do with our business. Now, Ardra, you say Tol wished you to rule in his place?”

  Lien saw a hard glance exchanged between Einalem and Samoht, but didn’t know enough about them and Tolemac politics to interpret the look.

  Ardra remained standing. “Tol made his wishes clear. He said he wished me to hold the fortress. Ralen and Lien have confirmed it.”

  “Never. I will not allow it,” Samoht said. “You have shown no ability to handle authority. You went into the Tangled Wood without archers, and let us not forget the circumstances that necessitated this pilgrim saving your life.”

  “I requested archers and was denied,” Ardra said calmly.

  Samoht smiled. “And what woman of sense goes onto Nilrem’s mountain alone? I assume you were alone, as you lost no warriors when you were attacked.”

  Lien watched Ardra. She licked her lips and finally spoke. “I considered it a pilgrimage of sorts. One cannot approach the wiseman with a troop of men. It takes from the sacred—”

  “You are making excuses for foolishness. A foolish woman may not rule,” Samoht said.

  Einalem smiled. “Please, Samoht, Ardra, stop this. You will only anger each other and nothing will be accomplished. Might I suggest a compromise?”

  She patted Samoht’s knee as the councilor had done to Ardra. Lien figured the patronizing gesture pleased him no more than it had Ardra.

  “What compromise could possibly—” Samoht began.

  “Please you, Brother?” Einalem laughed. Her full breasts quivered against her silky gown.

  “I too suspect that little will please you, Samoht,” Ralen said. “Ardra is right. Tol’s wishes were clear, but I cannot agree with them. It is foolish to allow a woman too much—”

  “Whoa,” Lien said. “Let’s just hear the compromise.”

  “Thank you, pilgrim,” Einalem said. She leaned forward so that more of her cleavage became visible, and took a drink from her silver goblet. Her eyes locked on his over the rim. The goblet was so encrusted with turquoise, he wondered how she could lift it. When she set it down, she licked her moist, full lips.

  “What I propose is simple,” Einalem said, rising. “Ardra must prove herself before witnesses.”

  “Prove myself?” Ardra sat down with a thump next to Lien on the bench. He stifled an impulse to wrap a comforting arm around her.

  “How?” Ralen and Samoht asked at the same time.

  Einalem stretched, and Lien thought of a cat well satisfied with herself. “Set Ardra a task
to perform. If she succeeds, she will have her way—control of the fortress. If not, she will kneel before you, Samoht, and all the council. She will accept whomever you designate as the protector of the Fortress of Ravens. In fact,” she smiled, “she will mate again where you bid. Now, I have much to do. If you will excuse me?”

  “Of course.” Samoht rose and bowed to Einalem, who swept from the tent. “My sister’s plan is magnificent,” he said when she was gone. “What say you, Ardra?”

  Samoht had agreed too fast. Lien knew that some form of this agreement had been hashed out between brother and sister even before Tol’s death.

  “What can I say—”

  “Wait, Ardra,” Lien interrupted. “Don’t agree until you hear what the task is.”

  She took a deep breath and nodded her thanks to him. “Aye. First I must know how you wish me to prove myself.”

  Samoht linked his fingers together. He watched Ardra from beneath his straight brows. “You may have heard we had a theft from the vaults beneath Tolemac?”

  Ardra nodded. “The Vial of Seduction.”

  “In the wrong hands,” Samoht continued, “this potion could be ill used. An unscrupulous woman might use it against a man of worth, a councilor even. It is said the Goddess of Darkness has the vial. Find it. Return it to me.”

  “An unscrupulous person cannot use the potion,” Ardra said.

  Lien perked up. This was news.

  “However,” Samoht said. “If the goddess finds an honorable person capable of administering the potion, it may bode ill for us all. Will you seek the Vial of Seduction or not?”

  Ralen held up his hand. “Wait, we have been over this before, Samoht, and you have my report. I have already met with the goddess. She made no attempt to block my search of her fortress. The tales of her are greatly exaggerated. There are no serpents guarding the place. She made no attempts to bewitch me. In fact, the woman could not have been more cordial.”

  “She is evil,” Ardra said.

  Lien touched her arm. She quivered with some emotion held in check with great effort.

  Samoht dismissed her words with a quick flick of his hand. “We know ‘tis said she is responsible for your mother’s death, Ardra, but nothing was ever proved.”