Starstone

by Denise M. Main

  He felt someone come up behind him and turned. Smiling at Emmer, his daughter, he held a hand out to her and together, they stood at the rail.

  “You will be careful in your dealings with Morgan, won't you?” he asked after a while, “He is a womanizer.”

  “And I am the Lord of Yrloch's daughter,” she said confidently. “Not some flighty court woman who seeks prestige through his bed!”

  At dawn, Rainard's ship, the Silver Fox, weighed anchor and set sail for Delgannan's harbor. Its sister, the Lady Esther, hoisted her red and white sails, caught the stiff morning breeze and followed in the flagship’s spreading wake.

  Just under two hours later, both ships were safely docked and awaiting the High Lord. A small line of horsemen made their way down to the harbor; at their head, a purple-cloaked man on a chestnut stallion. His dark shoulder length hair was held back with a narrow gold circlet; there was more gold at his throat, wrists and on the hilt of his fine sword. At either side, and a little behind him, rode two more tall men, one with thick blond hair who looked less than enthusiastic at being awake this time of the morning, and a younger whose long chestnut colored hair rippled down his cloaked back with every step his black horse pranced, and who yawned and shivered in the sharp air. Behind them rode an older man, with silver strands in his short brown hair and in the beard on his dour face. The only cheerful person in the little group was the silver haired harper, who sat relaxed on his horse next to Avane's, and plucked out a lively sea shanty on his black and silver harp. In a double line behind them rode Garrant, Morgan's captain of the guards, and 11 of his men, their horses snorting plumes of white breath into the chill air where the sun hadn't yet reached between the shops and houses.

  “What the hell did they have to come this early for?” Ky grumbled. It was the fourth or fifth time he'd asked the question, re-phrasing it each time.

  “They rise early on Yrloch,” Avane replied somberly. “The sun comes up sooner there than it does here.”

  Ky frowned at him. Ulric's old steward had been up before all of them, riding down to the docks with horses for Rainard's party, talking with the harbor master, making sure there were berths for the two ships, and that the fishermen and women wouldn't be sorting out their early morning catches too close by.

  ***

  “Morgan obviously doesn't see us as any threat,” Laelan muttered to his father, as the High Lord's party rode onto the docks. “There are no foot guards with them, just the 12 on horseback. Why can't we take them now?”

  Rainard looked at his eldest son with mild disgust. “Do you honestly think he's so trusting? There'll be warriors around watching us, have no fear of that!”

  “Shall we go, Father?” Emmer asked, adjusting the folds of her dark blue dress and matching cloak. The rising sun caught white-gold strands in her braided and coiled hair, glinting as she moved her head.

  “Aye,” Rainard smiled, taking her arm and starting down the gangplank. Laelan and Seric fell into step behind them, followed by Emmer's maid and the men's two body-servants. After them came ten lightly armed warriors. The rest would stay on board, or close to the ships, until needed.

  ***

  “A fine morning, my girl,” Balin greeted, joining Liath as she stood by one of the thick carved oak pillars that supported the Great Hall's roof. She smiled and nodded absently, watching servants hover around the High Lord and his visitors. Balin frowned and took two fruit cups from a passing servant, handing the priestess one. In general, people took a little more notice of him than Liath was doing.

  “Thanks,” she murmured.

  “It seems strange to see you without young Conna,” he stated. “Although I have noticed he keeps looking over at you. However, you are certainly worth looking at.”

  “What?”

  The silver haired bard laughed, and raised his cup in a salute to her.

  “Shouldn't you be with them, singing the praises of Lord Rainard?” she asked, finally giving him her full attention.

  “Probably. But I prefer being with you, not that I've had much chance with Conn monopolizing you. I received a letter from Annushi yesterday,” he said, taking her elbow and guiding her to a quiet corner of the hall.

  “Oh?” Liath replied, glancing at Balin, wondering if Annushi's letter to her son concerned herself more than him.

  “She wanted to know how you were settling in,” the harper smiled, pulling out a stool for the girl, then sitting opposite her at the small table.

  “Tell her not to worry, I'm behaving myself. Although it's not easy.”

  “She knows that,” Balin answered, sliding the harp off his shoulder and settling it on his lap. “Liath, about Conna...”

  “Yes?” she prompted when Balin fell silent.

  “You know you can't get involved with him – nor Morgan?”

  She stared at him, puzzled, “Can you re-phrase that so I have at least a clue about what you're saying, Bal?”

  The harper sighed, not liking to be the one to tell her this. “You're half Akashii, the people would never accept you as even a prospective Lady of Anraun...” his voice trailed off and he looked into her eyes for any form of comprehension whatsoever. It was like looking at a blank wall.

  “What the hell're you talking about? I don't intend to marry either Conna or Morgan, if that's what you mean.”

  “As a seer and an Akashii, that's fine; as a lover of either the High Lord or his heir, it's not. Old prejudices die hard, my love. In Thesa all races, all worlders, are accepted, even yours, now that there's hardly any of your mother's people left. But although Delgannan's the capital city, they still hold onto old hates. One High Lord took an Akashiian lady as his lover; shortly after, her raped and mutilated body was found on the Great Hall steps. She could have killed all her attackers with a thought, but being a pacifist, she died instead.”

  “That wouldn't happen these days, surely,” Liath said, her face a little paler than normal. “Would it?”

  “It's doubtful such extreme actions would be taken, but the people still wouldn't like an Akashiian, even Druin's daughter, to become romantically involved with their lord or heir. So, please, Lee, try not to cause trouble. Or at least be very, very discrete.”

  “Do Morgan and Conn realize this?” she asked, curbing her mixed emotions at Balin's warning.

  “Conna doesn't. Morgan should, but I doubt he's thought that clearly about it. He's getting a little jealous of Conn spending so much time with you. But for catching up on his duties here and Rainard's visit, he'd have been the one to show you his town and the heart of his realm – and maybe what the inside of his sheets look like,” he paused, remembering a question in Annushi's letter, asked it suddenly. “What are your dreams of, Liath?”

  The young seer's gaze, which had been drifting away from him, tiring of the half-lecture, snapped back.

  “My dreams?” she repeated, almost in a whisper, and Balin shivered lightly in the icy breeze that touched him. He nodded; realized, too, that Liath was no pacifist. Should she be threatened, she’d try reason. If that failed, she’d fight.

  “There's a...a...darkness on the edge of them. In my 'seeing, too,” she stopped and chewed her lower lip.

  “Is that why you've refused all foretelling?”

  “Yes. Has Annushi been having dark dreams – that was her question, wasn't it?”

  “Her question,” Balin inclined his head, “but she didn't give an explanation why I had to ask it. Is this darkness in all the futures you see?”

  She nodded, eyes clouded and worried. “It's there. Just..waiting. I saw something like it years ago–I told you, remember?”

  Balin nodded. There had been a night when he'd woken beside Liath to find her in the grip of a nightmare. When he'd brought her out of it and calmed her, she'd described it to him. They’d spent the rest of the night making love, trying to get her to forget.

  “There seemed to be a sort of wraith world within it, but nothing was clear, just shadows in shadows.” S
he heaved a deep sigh. “I wish Father were here. Why did he take off when he knew I was coming, Bal?”

  “You may as well ask why the sun rises in the east – it's just something which happens.”

  Liath sipped her fruit cup and chose not to comment further.

  “Look,” he said, “I know I shouldn't do this, but if you and Conna want to...”

  “Get involved?” she smiled.

  “Get involved... I'll do what I can to cover for you.”

  “Thank you, Balin. I love Conn and he's beautiful. We get on so well together, but not like you think. There are only two men in the High Lord's hall who attract me in that way, and you've just warned me about one of them.”

  “And the other?” Balin asked in innocence.

  “Is a man I fell in love with when I was about ten years old, and worshiped from afar. Until the first time I took full part in the rites, and got the chance to worship him a bit closer. Well, a hell of a lot closer.”

  “In that case, my lady, whenever you wish for a little mutual worship, you know where my rooms are.”

  “Yes. I do...I'm so glad you live here, Balin. I know how self-confident I seem at times – but that's in Thesa where all...most of my friends are – and this is Delgannan. The Seers Tower is so far away. Yet with you here, so like Annushi, so...you're like having my own little bit of Thesa. Sounds stupid, doesn't it?”

  “No, not really, I do know what you mean – I stop you from being homesick.”

  “It's more than that. I love you – me and most of the other ladies here.”

  The harper smiled, and touched his strings, creating a complex and eerily beautiful tune. Across the room, Conna's head jerked up, as Balin's music evoked a mental picture of Liath. Attracted by the sudden movement, a red-haired man beside him stared in the same direction, then turned round to his father, whispering something in Rainard's ear.

  A few minutes later the island lord gestured to the far corner of the room, to the black robed girl with a mass of wavy red-chestnut hair spread out over her shoulders and back.

  “I didn't know you had a seer at your court, Lord Morgan.”

  As if she had heard, Liath half turned her head and stared through a gap in the shifting groups of people at him.

  “The priestess is not here in her official capacity. Liath is my guest. Besides, she’s a healer, too,” Morgan stated flatly, before turning back to the island lord’s daughter.

  “I shall look forward to meeting her,” Rainard murmured, eyes cold as a winter's day. If the seer chose to look into the future, she would likely see Delgannan with a different lord. Some way would have to be found to prevent that from happening.

  Conna glanced at Morgan, now deep in conversation with Emmer, then left the group. As he approached the quiet corner, Balin brushed his fingertips over the harp-strings again, summoning the whirlwind tune he had given the youth years ago. Stilling the strings, Balin smiled at the young lord, and stood up, offering Conna his seat.

  “Thanks, Bal,” he smiled.

  The harper nodded, then bowed slightly to Liath. “I'll talk with you later,” he said, then strolled away to the livelier part of the hall, idly picking out a different melody on his harp.

  “You look beautiful, Lee.”

  “You look serious, Conna,” she replied.

  “I am.”

  She smiled at him, then glanced over towards the other end of the hall, her smile fading as she saw Laelan watching her. Conna followed her gaze.

  “They've just discovered Morgan has a seer visiting,” he said.

  “I hope he made it clear I'm not 'seeing?” she asked, looking back at Conna.

  “Yes, but Rainard would still like to meet you.”

  “Well I have no wish to meet him, or any of his family.”

  “Is that why you weren't at breakfast when we arrived back?”

  She nodded.

  “Come on, let's go up to my rooms,” Conna grinned. “You can help me plan my coming of age celebrations.”

  “Isn't Morgan or Avane supposed to do that?” she asked warily. Whatever the young lord had in mind for his eighteenth birthday, his brother was bound not to like it.

  “That's exactly why I want to make my own.”

  “I was afraid of that,” Liath murmured, then grinned back at Conna and stood up. “I have a few suggestions from when it was my friend Ianna's coming of age two years ago, and the last birthday she celebrated. We got into a hell of lot of trouble after it; Demora was furious, and bits of the temple haven't been the same since, but it was the best party I've ever been to.”

  “In that case,” the young lord said, standing up, “what're we waiting for?”

  Late that evening, after Morgan had called Conna over to carry out his duties as the land's heir and talk to the visiting lord's family, Liath went outside to the semi-formal gardens. Lamps had been lit in the broad courtyard and at set intervals along the garden walks. She had just settled herself on a narrow wooden bench at the end of a short walk, enjoying the cool and peace, when a tall red-haired young man appeared at the end of the path.

  “May I join you, lady?” he asked, his accent that of Yrloch.

  “If you wish,” she replied, watching him stride up. The man would look more at home on a wind-blown hill side surrounded by sheep, she thought ungraciously.

  Laelan sat down at her side, and looked up through the branches that spread above their heads. “A beautiful evening,” he sighed, “and so warm. We just left winter behind in Yrloch, and the winters are long up there.” He turned to Liath, “Have you ever been up to the islands, priestess?”

  “No, never.”

  “Aye, I thought not. We don't get many temple folk there – and a lass like yourself would not go unnoticed. A pity, though.”

  She smiled thinly, and looked away.

  “Do you travel much?” he asked a few moments later.

  “No.”

  “Strange, I thought there would be a great demand for your talents, lady,” the young Yrloch observed.

  “There is,” she replied, wishing he would go away and leave her alone. Laelan was not a man she would put her trust in. His eyes were cold and grey and he had an odd way of looking at her, like a fox sizing up a chicken.

  “Lord Morgan said you were just visiting Delgannan. Do you plan on returning to the Temple soon?”

  “I don't know.”

  “You don't talk much, do you? My sister prattles on all the time. It's a relief to sit with a female who knows the value of silence.”

  Liath made a mental note to use Laelan's observation the next time any of her tutors told her to study, not talk, although she didn't exactly appreciate the way he'd phrased it. For a few moments she and Rainard's eldest son sat without speaking: Laelan apparently quite at ease and content to gaze at the sky. The young seer passed the silent minutes thinking about Conna – and the plans they had for his coming of age day in three weeks time. There had been a slightly disapproving look on Morgan's face when he had seen Conna and herself come down from the rooms above, and she had a good idea what the High Lord thought they'd been spending their time doing. Even though Conna was a couple of years younger than Liath, he was tall and certainly well...

  “Do you see yourself ever coming to Yrloch?” Laelan asked suddenly.

  Liath abruptly broke off her daydream about Conna and his physique, and glanced at the red-head. “Seers cannot see themselves in the futures,” she replied.

  “So you never know what's going to happen to you?”

  Thinking it best to agree with him, she replied that she did not.

  “Have you foretold Morgan's future?”

  “No. I am here as a guest, nothing more.”

  “Perhaps you could show me round Delgannan. Tomorrow, maybe,” he suggested.

  “I know very little of the city, Lord Laelan.”

  “In that case, we can explore it together, priestess,” he smiled, standing up. “I'll see you in the hall at breakfast.�
��

  Before Liath could protest, he was away down the path. She muttered a quiet curse and a moment later began retracing her steps back towards the hall.

  “Well, priestess,” a deep soft voice said from the shadows of a tree. “Been entertaining one of Morgan's guests?”

  “No.”

  The tall blond man stepped out of the shadow and stood looking down at her, one eyebrow raised. “What on earth prompted Morgan to invite you to Delgannan?” he mused.

  “Possibly so an ill-mannered lout he knows could attempt to insult me whenever our paths have the misfortune to cross.”

  Ky chuckled softly. “Why don't you go back to wherever you belong, girl?” he advised. “There is nothing for you here.”

  She glared at him and stepped past, hearing his soft laughter follow her down the path.

  Chapter 15 – False Friendship

  Laelan watched the seer walk along the balcony and down the wide staircase into the hall. Opposite him at the long breakfast table, Conna watched the redhead with a frown.

  “Excuse me, Lord Morgan, the priestess has offered to show me around your marvelous city,” Laelan said, standing up and making a vague gesture towards Liath.

  Morgan's eyes flickered briefly to Liath halfway down the stairs, then back to Laelan. “Of course,” he smiled, wondering what had prompted her to do an uncharacteristic thing like that, and indeed, if she had volunteered in the first place. “There are a few small areas which are not as safe as others – perhaps Conna should go with you.”