Starstone

by Denise M. Main

  “Yes, the best in the world. He's made me laugh, cry, love and hate, just by playing a simple tune. There are times when I wonder who's in charge of my court, him or me,” Morgan agreed. “But tell me more about the seers; are they all capable of such devastating feats?”

  “As far as we can tell. Really, it's a good job there are so few of them. During the course of their training and education, there are certain tests carried out to try to assess the extent of the individual's power. At that time, the magi work very closely with them, then, if anything gets out of hand, they can negate it. But, as no-one can predict any of the seers’ possible futures, we can't tell what is likely to happen as they mature. All we can do in that respect is give a stable and loving foundation to their lives and hope for the best.”

  “Liath can see the futures of all of them,” Morgan murmured.

  “Yes, I know, I think that's because of her Akashii blood. It's not easy for her to live with at times. Which leads me to another point,” he sighed. “Damn it, Morgan! She can't leave the Temple; it's just too much of a risk.”

  “Tell me about the Akashii,” the young Lord urged, ignoring the short outburst. “You must know more about them than anyone, but you never talk about them.”

  For a long while, Druin stared blankly into space, then, without looking at Morgan, he began talking quietly.

  “There were many rumors and mysteries surrounding them and the island; talk of dark arts, leaders being influenced by things other than their own thoughts, of dense mists which cloaked the attackers. Battles and towns razed by evil... I don't know...no-one's ever been able to make much sense of it since the Akashii all went there ages ago. Things have changed there quite a bit since I lived on the island; the centre of it, where the capital used to be, is the antithesis of what it was. Around the coast, that’s different; there are small groups – villages – where life is still good, peaceful and tranquil. Where scholars, dreamers, poets, bards, magi and aesthetes visit and live: not all Akashii, either. But for how much longer, I have no idea. It’s as if there is a cancer on the island and it’s very slowly spreading... and you know the general feeling people have about Akashiians, even now.” He paused and glanced at the country-side around them. “Liath's mother was possibly one of the last few of her line remaining in this world,” he said, words weighed with infinite sadness. “She was the most beautiful woman – the most beautiful of anything in creation – even Liath would seem plain by comparison. And she was so strong. Her mind was incredible. She let me into it, shared her thoughts with me, her past life. A few members of her family had managed to exist quite well on the island. But most were dead or gone by then. And she showed me there could be no future for her either. We had two years together, just the two of us, on a tiny island just off the coast of Akashii. I was never as happy; never can be again. She was everything to me – life itself.

  “Then we came to Thesa and Alaneah died shortly after giving birth to Liath. None of my skills as a healer could save her, and I gave serious consideration to renouncing my vocation. But her soul touched mine before it left; I think a tiny part stayed with me. Even so, my grief and desolation were so great I could hardly breathe from one moment to the next, nor wanted to. If it hadn't been for Liath, I would have killed myself and had done with it. As things were, all at the Temple suffered in one way or another. Plants and grass died in the gardens, slabs of marble cracked and split apart, one statue of the Goddess shattered completely, water in the wells turned black and foul...”

  “You did that?” Morgan asked, surprised by both the admission and the weight of grief that Druin had carried for 20 years.

  The healer sighed and nodded. “However, my daughter could probably raze the Temple to the ground with less provocation: Alaneah could have destroyed Thesa.”

  For a time they rode on in silence; even the warriors behind were quiet.

  “I'm sorry,” Morgan said eventually. “It must have been incredibly painful. I've been trying to imagine what it must have felt like – but I can't.”

  “You never will. Unless you find an Akashii lady, fall in love with her, then lose her, as I did. But I wouldn't advise it,” the healer replied.

  Almost an hour passed before another word was spoken between the two men. Druin was deep in his own thoughts, reliving the happiness he had found all too briefly with Alaneah; while Morgan's mind drifted back and forth between the Temple and Delgannan.

  “Druin, do you know why Annushi didn't find much in my futures? Or at least very little she was willing to tell me about,” he added, breaking into the other's thoughts. “Even Liath refused to look for me.”

  “Mmmmm? Oh, yes, that. Well, apparently it's always been difficult reading for a High Lord: a High Priestess, too. Or anyone in contact with the amount of people you are – too many outside influences. She would only be able to pick out the longer lasting effects...”

  “But that's the whole point!” Morgan interrupted. “I would have thought a wife would be a 'longer lasting effect'. Annushi gave me a few hazy predictions which could come about in the next couple of months, then all she told me about were this week and next. When I asked her about it – she told me exactly what you have just done. Am I going to die soon?” he asked softly.

  Druin looked at him in surprise. “Goodness, no! It probably means that Liath is going to visit after all. She leaves 'shadows' or blank spots in the lives of those she is physically close to. The seers can't see through them, just as they can't see their own futures. Liath, of course,” he said dryly, “can. And these blank spots do wear off after a while, so don't worry about it, Morgan,” the healer smiled. “It's nothing serious.”

  “But why didn't Annushi just tell me Lee was causing that? Or ask her to foretell?”

  “I don't know; doubtless she had her reasons.”

  “In that case, why was Liath present?”

  “Morgan,” Druin sighed. “Who am I to know the workings of a woman's mind – especially a seer?”

  The young lord, still not pleased with the reasons he'd been given by various people to the same questions, dropped back to chat with the warriors.

  That night he was woken from a restless sleep by the sound of his name. He lay, staring up into the darkness, wondering why he'd heard Liath calling to him.

  Chapter 12 – One Arrival, Two Departures

  ‘Where is Liath?’ was a question asked many times by many people during the days that succeeded the departure of her father and the High Lord.

  The most popular theory was that she had gone with, or followed, them. After all, her closest friends and associates all noticed how much she and the young lord enjoyed each other’s company, a fact that had not escaped the attention of either Annushi or Demora. Another line of thought was that she had gone to the tiny island just off the coast of Thesa, to visit her mother's grave. A good idea, since she'd done that twice before without telling anyone. But she wasn't there this time.

  When Liath couldn't be found by physical means, the next obvious way was to search the futures. Even though the seers were unable to see one of their number in that respect, they were able to use Liath's peculiarity of casting shadows over other lives to try locating her.

  As Annushi had already encountered a disturbing amount of shadow in Morgan's life, and Druin had always been hard to read, she concentrated on a tavern-owner, whose establishment lay on the main route between Thesa and Delgannan. Despite this man coming into contact with many people during his work, meeting the High Lord would leave a lasting impression on him. And having met the man a few times herself, Annushi was able to hold an image of his face in her mind to focus on. It wasn't easy, but she found the High Lord's party stopping overnight in the tavern in the majority of his futures. But as there were no shadows, apart from Druin and Morgan, Liath was not thought to be with them at that point.

  So, on the advice of the High Priestess, who at the moment was more annoyed than worried by her niece's disappearance, the search was
held in abeyance. The reason being no one was going to force a seer, especially not an Akashii, into doing something they didn't want to.

  Demora was more concerned with the safety of whoever Liath came into contact with, than the girl herself. Requesting all the orders to keep an eye out for any disturbances that might be caused by a seer, Demora decided to leave things as they were for a while. After all, the girl's father had made a lifetime's habit of disappearing without apparent reason, then safely returning. Liath might have taken it into her head to start doing the same. And then there were the recurring dreams to puzzle about. Ones she, Tia'mar, Annushi, Casel and a few others were still experiencing; vague, intangible impressions, which even under enthrallment became no clearer. The details of these disturbing dreams must be buried somewhere deep in the minds of the dreamers, Demora reasoned, but not even the most experienced of the magi mesmerists could reach and draw them out. She wondered briefly if her brother was subject to the same dark nocturnal fantasies.

  ***

  The ten day journey from Thesa to Delgannan was all but over and the High Lord's party was riding through farmland that flanked the town on its southern side. Morgan considered it time well spent, having visited friends and allies on the way back, smoothing doubts and spreading oil on any troubled waters; reaffirming allegiances, celebrating various events, mixing business with pleasure, rather than travelling a quicker way back. Nonetheless he was pleased when Druin said, nodding ahead, “Well, Morgan, there she is.”

  The young lord, despite the odd mood that had been growing in him for the last few days, smiled fondly at his home. And the sudden surge of love that flowed through him was almost like that of a man for his wife.

  This is where I belong, he thought, and sighed with deep contentment.

  The Great Hall, just visible, crowned a rise in the land, roughly a mile away from the sea. From it, the large town of Delgannan grew along both banks of the wide river Delgan, stretching from the hall down to the harbor and along the coastline. Forming a majestic backdrop to it all towered the Delga Mountains that gave the river and town their names, the highest peaks snow topped even in the temperate climate.

  Farm-workers, spying the small party, and recognizing Morgan and the healer, strode over to the fences separating the main highway from the arable land spreading out from the houses buffering farmland and road. They called out greetings and welcomes, adding bits of gossip that the Lord had missed during the last month.

  Despite his reputation, Morgan had the ability to make people from all walks of life, and both sexes, feel at ease with him, and always took care not to offend any approach or friendship by his subjects. Anraun was a beautiful land, the envy of many both within and out –he could not afford to lose his popularity to some would-be rival. So Morgan had to endeavor, like those before him, to be everything to everyone. Not surprisingly, it was an impossible task. But he tried.

  As they drew even nearer to the town, their little party began to grow. The first to join them was a tall, blue-eyed blond. Tanned and handsome, his arrogance was natural, his charm considerable, and his morals dubious. He was Kyle bron Sultain, Morgan's adopted brother. His life had begun in the northlands of Anraun, a part of the country usually at odds with the High Lord's rule and periodically visited by Delgannan's warriors. It had been on one of these reprisal visits that a six-year old boy had been orphaned, brought back by a warrior and put on the slave market. Ulric had found him there, still proud and defiant, hiding his grief and worry behind a cold blue stare. The lord bought him as companion for his son. The two formed a deep bond as they grew up, and close, to each other. In the boy's tenth year, Ulric formally adopted him, although would never name him heir.

  Morgan urged his horse into a canter, riding to meet the tall blond. The affection they greeted each other with was rare and genuine, leaning out of their saddles to hug and slap shoulders, to grin like young boys reunited after too long apart.

  “Good trip?” Ky asked, settling back in the saddle and waving to Druin, who was approaching at a more leisurely pace. “And how’s young Raithe getting along, it seems like ages since I last saw him?”

  “Growing up,” Morgan sighed, then smiled. “As for the trip – yes, and no.”

  “Sounds interesting,” the blond commented, as they set their horses trotting towards Delgannan, watching a rider leave the group of welcomers coming from town.

  “It was. Very.”

  “Pretty?” Ky asked, knowing Morgan.

  “Pretty isn't the word.”

  “You must tell me more, in private,” the tall blond stated, then dropped back to greet Druin as the High Lord's harper joined them.

  Although Balin was only in his mid thirties, his hair was pure silver, like Annushi's, his eyes were as black as a seer's robes, his face lean like a hawk's. He cared little for Temple life and strictures, though they were few – his only concession to his order was the terracotta moon on his cheekbone and a pair of boots the same bardish color. His pants were green, tunic dark blue, and harp of ebony and silver, held on his shoulder by a purple leather strap. There were fine intricate tattoos in black and dark blue on his shoulders and across his chest, telling a story for those he cared to enlighten. The High Lord's court suited him well.

  “You look smug and satisfied,” Balin smiled, gripping Morgan's wrist in an old warrior's greeting. “Did my mother give you a good forecast?”

  “She gave me a couple of pointers. I thought you might have stayed there yourself until we arrived and travelled back with us,” Morgan said.

  “I came the civilized way, by boat. Besides, I needed the restful passage and invigorating sea air after taking part in the spring rites. We probably passed each other somewhere around Cavorin.”

  “Ah, so that was your singing I heard on the wind – I thought it was a dying whale.” The young lord ducked as Balin took a swipe at his head.

  “You wait, bron Sultain, the next satire I compose will have your name all through it,” the silver-haired bard warned. “Did you hear Raithe play? And the songs he’s composed – he’ll make an excellent bard, Morgan. Although his music is more like that from the otherworld Rowan Fidhala visits a lot. Maybe he, or you, could take Raithe for a visit before he comes of age and can walk between the worlds himself – once he hears the music there, he may never come back,” the harper grinned.

  “Perhaps. He’d be…safer with me than Rowan, I think.” Morgan observed, pleased he wasn’t the only one who thought the youngest of the family could sing and play; it was high praise from a master like Balin.

  “Good to have you back, anyway,” Balin grinned. “And if your lordship will excuse his humble servant, I'll say hello to Druin. And here comes trouble,” he added as another rider approached.

  “Hey...! Conna!” Morgan stood up in the stirrups and waved at his young brother.

  Conna hurtled along the road, riding bareback on a black stallion, and brought the snorting horse to a rearing halt in front of Morgan. While the dark haired man frowned, at his side, the tall harper hid a grin.

  “Conna...” the High Lord growled, then laughed and nudged his horse alongside the wild haired, green-eyed youth. They leaned out and embraced each other.

  “Good to see you, Morgan,” Conna grinned, flicking his long dark chestnut hair back over his shoulders. “How did it go? How’s Raithe? When he’s coming home again?”

  “Raithe’s good – I'll tell you later. But I did meet this incredible seer...”

  “A seer!” the 17 year old heir laughed. “Is she pretty?”

  “Is that all you lot think about?” Morgan sighed, as they rode between lines of people, waving and shouting hello to their lord. He smiled and waved back.

  “What else is there?” Ky smiled, having left Druin and caught their last few words.

  The young lord opened his mouth to reply, but at the moment could think of nothing suitable to offer.

  The blond laughed. “I almost forgot, Rainard's been seen sai
ling down the coast. We got a message from him this morning – he'd like to stop over in Delgannan for a while on his way down to the Temple. And bring his family – including his daughter.”

  “I wondered how long it would take him to get round to that. Well, he's making a wasted journey,” Morgan stated.

  “Annushi named a wife?” Conna asked, reining his stallion to one side as it tried to bite Morgan's.

  “No. She did mention Rainard, though.”

  “In that case,” Ky replied. “Maybe you ought to consider his daughter. Reports say she's an attractive girl.”

  Morgan shook his head. Nothing seemed to have changed in his absence. He glanced behind him at riders and people on foot. Already some were returning to their homes and work, content to have caught a glimpse of the High Lord and to know he was back.

  The Great Hall, Morgan's home, was the largest single structure in the city, with the hall itself at the centre. Its high ceiling was a story above, hung with banners along the thick oak rafters. A wide staircase halfway down the hall led up to a long gallery that ran along three sides of the hall. Tapestries, shields and rich hangings covered most of the balcony rails, and more hung on the wall at the other side. Corridors opened off the gallery at intervals. Three were wide, leading to the east, north and west wings. Morgan's rooms were in the west along the widest corridor, as were those of Conna, Ky, Druin and Balin. High ranking guests stayed in the east wing, and for less important ones, there was a smaller hall on the right hand side of the courtyard. The north wing housed the remainder of Morgan's large household.

  On the ground floor of the east wing, with their own private entrance, were the healer's work and treatment rooms, and the bedrooms of his three apprentices. It was there Druin went as soon as he arrived, leaving his horse and baggage to be taken care of by servants. But not long after, he sought out Morgan again.

  “This was waiting for me,” he said, holding out a long, narrow strip of paper. “It arrived yesterday; apparently Liath has decided to take you up on your offer. I hope. Since the alternatives are even less appealing.”