“No, no need for that, I'm sure the lady is aware of these places and will stay clear. Besides, who would harass a priestess?” Laelan hastily assured him.
“As you wish,” Morgan replied, raising his cup of peppermint tea. He had plenty of other things to think about besides Liath and Laelan – the real reasons behind Rainard's visit, for instance, and the man's pretty, scheming daughter; and a meeting to arrange with an old friend.
The redhead nodded to his father and left, striding to intercept Liath as she approached the long table. “A pleasant morning to you, lady,” he smiled. “Our horses are waiting outside.”
“Good morning, Lord Laelan,” she replied, raising a hand in greeting to Conna, who raised an eyebrow and the corners of his mouth in return, and let herself be led back down the hall and the through the wide doors opposite the staircase..
“That's a fine horse you have there,” Laelan stated as they mounted and moved off through the courtyard.
“Thank you,” she nodded to the gate guards as they passed between them. “He was gift from my father.”
“I'd like a beast like that,” Laelan mused.
“Many people would,” she smiled.
“True,” the islander murmured, eyeing the black horse speculatively.
For the next four hours, Liath showed him the parts of the city she had visited with Conna, finally stopping just after noon. “Well, Laelan, that's about all I know of Delgannan – apart from its temple here, of course. Shall we return to the hall?”
The redhead looked around, his lightly tanned face like that of a predatory bird's, honed by the winds and weather of the Yrloch Isles. “What's down there?” he asked pointing to a quiet street to their left, reining his horse around to read the nameplate on the wall of the end house.
“The city brothels,” she smiled, and asked innocently, “do you wish to visit any? The better ones are at the far end, past the square. Although I'm sure they all have their merits.”
Laelan stared along the almost deserted street. Halfway down it opened out onto a wide square ringed with benches and tubs of flowers. In the centre was a white marble statue, holding out its hands. There were wreaths of flowers draped over the slender arms.
“The Goddess,” Laelan frowned, then looked back at Liath, a movement catching his eye. A young woman now stood in front of the priestess' horse, hair tousled, bodice half-fastened.
“Would you give me your blessing, priestess?” she asked.
Liath grinned and nodded, and rested her hand lightly on the young woman's head as she moved closer. Lee murmured the words of a short blessing, and a moment later, the working girl stepped back and smilingly thanked her.
“And if the lord should ever need the services of the street, he has free passage into this house,” she added. “Or indeed, yourself, my lady.” Then bowed her head to Liath and strolled back inside the nearest building.
“You gave a common whore your blessing?” Laelan finally managed to ask, ignoring the sounds of opening windows as the ladies of the street looked out at the black dressed seer and the red haired islander.
“Of course. The Goddess has many aspects, and ladies such as these are very religious people,” she replied, glancing up at the houses, her smile deepening. “Shall we return to the hall now?”
“To be frank, Liath, I'm enjoying your company too much – let's find an inn and eat,” he suggested. “Tell me, how do the people react to you being an Akashiian?”
“Which particular people do you mean?” she asked, a little coolly.
“These city folk,” he replied, making a sweeping gesture with his arm.
“They see the color of my clothes and moon mark before they notice my eyes, Laelan. How d'you find they react to you being from the isles?”
“With courtesy and respect,” he replied, with a faint smile, which held neither warmth nor amusement.
“Good,” she muttered and urged her horse into a brisk walk.
The island lordling was an attractive enough man, reasonably well-mannered and, in his own odd way, quite interesting. She had learned a lot about the Yrloch Isles, and they did have one thing in common – their mutual dislike of the tall northlander. But that was not enough to allay her basic, and strong, feelings of mistrust. Besides, she was well aware of his reasons for being with her. Rainard would have told him to keep her out of the way and occupied so she couldn't attempt to see the futures. It was almost enough to tempt her to look and see what was in store for them: almost.
They made their way back into the bustling commercial centre of Delgannan, where the air was heavily scented with the odors of food, drink and the sea.
“Here, this one looks as though it would suit our needs,” Laelan declared, stopping outside a tavern and dismounting.
Liath glanced up and down the street, wondering why this particular tavern seemed any different to the islander than all the others. She didn't recognize the street, or even the area in general – the tavern sign hanging motionless in the warm air proclaimed the establishment to be the Red Boar. An unlikely colored beast with blood dripping from its long curved tusks backed up the name. She shrugged and slid down from her stallion's back, fastening the reins to the long rail at a little distance away from Laelan's horse.
With the redhead leading the way, she went inside, feeling slightly uncomfortable. This was not the place she would have chosen to eat or drink in. Laelan, making sure she was close behind, strode through the crowd to the long bar at the opposite side of the room. Those he'd pushed shouted after him, until they saw the tall, black dressed girl who followed. By the time Laelan had reached the bar and called for the landlord, most of the customers in the place were aware there was a seer present.
The attitude of the short, fat landlord changed too, when he noticed her, and the quality of Laelan's clothes. He bowed his head, then hurried round the end of the wooden bar, leading them over to what could possibly be the best table in the house. He passed a damp stained cloth over the top and cast a calculating eye on Laelan's belt pouch, assessing what wealth it might contain.
“A girl'll be over with your meal shortly, lord and er, lady,” he smiled. “And I'll bring a jug of Alrian wine to tide you over.”
“Well be quick then,” Laelan prompted as the man shifted his stare to Liath.
The landlord bobbed his head, then made his way swiftly through the noon-time drinkers, wide shoulders making short work of anyone who stood in his way.
“Full of character, this place,” Laelan remarked, settling himself on the short, hard bench opposite Liath, “though I shouldn't imagine you visit many like it in Thesa.”
“No,” she agreed, “I don't.” In fact, the Hanging Dog was the only place she frequented, and on rare occasions other taverns, but never a place like this, although she supposed there could be similar establishments, somewhere in Thesa. She sat still as a stone, only her wide eyes moving, scanning the occupants of the low-ceilinged room.
The customers seemed to be a cross-section of sailors, dock-workers, mercenaries and vagrants, most of them quarrelsome and all of them noisy. They parted again, like waves to the prow of a ship, as the landlord returned with the promised jug of Alrian wine and two beakers on a tray. He set them down and poured out the clear, slightly sparkling wine, hovering at the table while they tasted it. Laelan nodded his approval, but even then, the barrel shaped tavern owner seemed reluctant to leave them.
“We'd heard the High Lord had brought a seer into the city,” he said. “Will you be working from the hall, or our temple?”
“I'm not here to work, I am Morgan's guest, that's all,” she replied, having to bite her tongue to stop herself from carrying on a conversation with the man. Let Laelan continue to think of her as a quiet, reserved priestess, then perhaps he'd find someone who'd flatter and flirt with him and leave her alone. But even as that thought crossed her mind, she knew it was wishful thinking. The islander would be like an unwelcome shadow until one of them left Del
gannan. She considered using one of the seers lesser known abilities against him, to use the power of her mind to repel the man, then reluctantly discounted it. He was about as mentally sensitive as a dead frog. And even a part Akashiian seer had to have something there to work with.
The landlord gave a grunt of disappointment at the news. “Well...here comes the girl with your meal. Eat well.”
The food turned out to be surprisingly good and plentiful, but Liath stopped after the first mouthful and stared across the room. She was seeing the same place, from a different position – standing over at the far side, watching a man coming towards her.
“Liath – are you all right? Is anything wrong?” Laelan was asking her.
“Oh, no,” she said, stabbing her fork into a slice of carrot. “I thought I saw someone I knew, that's all.”
Laelan stared in the same direction she had done, chewing thoughtfully, until his eyes met those of a small, thin, black-bearded man. They looked at each other for a moment until the thin man suddenly shouted a curse and angrily shoved the person closest to him.
The fight spread like fire in a hay-barn, and when an ale jug crashed against the wall a few feet away from Laelan's head, he tossed a coin onto the table, stood up and reached out a hand to Liath.
“I think it's time we left,” he stated. The priestess agreed, and neatly avoided taking the proffered hand.
They were halfway round the room when a pair of knife-fighters stepped out of the melee, blocking their path. The shortest of them made a sudden lunge at his opponent, that man sidestepped, and the other rushed past, knife held before him, straight at Liath.
Inches away from her, the black-bearded man was suddenly hurled to one side, crashing into tables and stools as the force of a hurricane slammed him down like a giant hand, instantly crushing the life out of him.
A moment later, the screaming gale died as abruptly as it had formed. Liath stared at the twisted, battered body laying amid broken stools and scattered tables, killed by the element she'd instinctively summoned to defend herself. Then she flashed a look into Laelan's shocked grey eyes.
“By the Structure…!” he murmured into the sudden stillness of the tavern.
Stunned by her devastating reaction to the attack, Liath turned and walked quickly to the door, then paused just outside, breathing in deep lungfuls of air.
Laelan followed her, saw the pale, strained face, and risked putting his hands on her shoulders. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, I think so,” she replied, taking a step back. “But perhaps we'd better go back to the hall now.”
“Of course,” he agreed.
They mounted up and rode off down the street. Laelan glanced back over his shoulder, eyes meeting Liath's briefly before flickering towards the tavern. She looked round, just catching a glimpse of the other knife-fighter as he headed in the opposite direction, towards the docks. While seeing death in many forms predicting the futures, it was the first time she'd ever seen it inches from her own eyes and body. It deeply unsettled the young seer, even though she had 'seen it minutes before it happened.
The air grew heavy and lifeless over the town, and low, brooding clouds covered the sun.
Back at the hall, she went straight to her room, ignoring the questioning look Morgan gave her as she passed him on the steps. Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it and breathed a sigh of relief.
“Goddess, that was close...” She crossed to the table beneath the window and poured out a cup full of wine, drank it quickly, then filled the cup again.
***
“You fool!” Rainard hissed, glaring at his eldest son. “I told you to keep an eye on her. Make friends. Court her if you must. But not try to have her murdered!”
“She didn't suspect a thing!” Laelan retorted. “And if it had worked – she would have been out of the way for good!”
“Aye… and what would Morgan have thought? Or her father, the Healer? Or the High Priestess? You never considered her response to it, did you? Ahhh, get out of my sight, you great imbecile! And be nice to the girl! Here, give her this.” Rainard strode across his room to a small casket on the table next to his bed. He unlocked it and flung the lid back, sorting through the contents until he found what he was looking for, a short strand of tiny pearls alternated with polished jet-stones. “These are her colors, pearl for the Goddess, black for the seers,” he muttered, thrusting the necklet at Laelan. “Offer them with your apologies for taking her to the tavern in the first place.”
Grudgingly taking the piece, Laelan strode out of his father's room and along the banner-hung gallery towards Liath's room, almost colliding with the High Lord at the top of the stairs.
“You're in a hurry,” Morgan smiled, as the redhead briefly nodded at him. “How did your sight-seeing trip with Lee go?”
Laelan sighed, and gave an account of their day, ending with his intended apology and gift.
Morgan stared at him, black brows lowered and a veiled look in his eyes. “It's a good job she has some command of the elements, isn't it?” he stated in a cold, soft voice. “I was just going to see her myself, I'll accompany you there.”
“As you wish,” Laelan muttered and set off along the gallery again with Morgan falling into step at his side.
The High Lord knocked on Liath's door and waited for a reply.
“Who is it?” the girl asked, the thick oak of the door muffling her voice, but not the wary note it carried.
“Morgan. And Lord Laelan,” he added as he heard the bolt being shot back. There was a tiny pause, then the door opened.
“I've a few things to discuss with you,” Morgan smiled. “But I think Laelan has something to say first. I'll wait inside.”
She glanced at the young lord as he stepped past her, then turned her attention to the redhead standing in her doorway – who was mentally cursing Morgan’s timing.
“I've come to apologize for so thoughtlessly putting you at risk, lady.”
“It was an accident – that's all – you weren't to know,” Liath replied, for once managing to lie as successfully as the islander was doing.
“I should have realized... anyway, I hope you'll accept this as a token of my regret.” He held out the jet and pearl necklet in the palm of his hand.
“Thank you, Laelan, its beautiful – but I can't accept...”
“Take it,” he said firmly. “You're a pretty girl, you should wear things like this – and, they are your colors.”
“Thank you, lord,” she replied, forcing a smile, reluctantly receiving the narrow band.
Laelan nodded, “I'll see you later?” he asked.
“Perhaps, at dinner.” Thankfully, she closed the door and turned to see what Morgan wanted.
He was standing by the window, looking amused. “Put it on,” he suggested, walking towards her. “You're a pretty girl, you should have things like that.”
Liath looked down at the necklet, very aware of Morgan's proximity as he stopped in front of her. Very aware too, of the warning Balin had given her; wishing that she could stop battling the attraction Morgan had for her, that she could tell him how she really felt. Traitorously, her gaze went over Morgan’s shoulder to the ornate screens partitioning the far end of the room – and her bed behind it.
“When pearls are worn next to the skin, they glow,” he said softly.
She stuffed it in her pants pocket and stared defiantly at him. He smiled and brushed a finger lightly along her cheekbone to the tiny black and blue moon.
“You've changed, Lee. Are those dreams still bothering you?”
“Yes,” she sighed. “I hate them. Every time I close my eyes, the darkness is there. And now I've got that bastard trying to kill me!”
“So, it wasn't as accidental as he would like us all to believe.” Liath heard the cold rage in Morgan's voice like ice beneath his soft spoken words, and was surprised at the intensity. “Are you alright?”
“Yes.” Then she turned away. “No. I kil
led a man, Morgan...I've always known I had the power to. But to actually do it...even though he intended to kill me...I snuffed out his life, just like that. I didn't even have to think about it!”
Morgan gently turned her around and looked at the pale, drawn face, the troubled eyes darkened almost to black, and felt the slight trembling. “If a man was coming at me with a knife in his hand, I would do my best to kill him. So would anyone else...”
“My mother wouldn't,” she said quietly.
“But your father would.”
“He's a healer. It's his vocation to save lives.”
“At the cost of his own, instead of an assassin's? Druin may be a healer, but he's no fool, nor martyr. You did what you had to. I would not like to lose you, Liath, because of some misguided idea that you shouldn't defend yourself. You mean far too much to me for that.” He moved closer, brushed a stray curl out of her eyes. “Why do I make you blush?” he asked. “Why do I look at you and feel as though you belong at my side? Why do you turn away from me so much?”
She drew in a breath. “What do you want, Morgan?”
“You.”
“We've been through that already, I'm an Akashiian, and you need a wife. The answer is still the same.”
“You'll change your mind one day,” he smiled.
“You don't really believe that, do you?”
“Yes,” he said simply.
“You're almost as bad as that northlander brother of yours,” she stated, moving away from him, over towards the fireside chairs and as far from the bed as she could.
Morgan smiled and pivoted to keep her in sight. “Are you going to get rid of this blanket of cloud you've put us all under and let the air move freely again?”
Liath turned and stared at him, “You knew I'd done that?”
He nodded, “Yes, you have a certain control over the elements, and since the change in weather was rather abrupt, I presumed you had something to do with it.”
She went over to the window, gazed out for a minute, then looked back at him, waving a hand towards the sky. “There, now what did you really want?”
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