Starstone

by Denise M. Main

  “Everyone thinks they know what's going to happen. You, Rainard, his family,” her hand moved away from him, gesturing to the end of the corridor, before she clasped it in her other one. “Some of it will, but...”

  “But, what?” he asked, taking a step forward.

  She shivered and returned to the window, hugging her arms. “I once tried to look as far ahead as I could – to see if there was a place where time ended. I was a lot younger then, and the futures were too many and confused to see through past a certain point. But, I found something, like the edging to a garment, or a ribbon. Black and solid, running across my time. Patches of it were dark grey, worn perhaps. Like a wraith world...” Her soft voice trailed off and she frowned out into the night.

  “Druin said the seers could easily see into other worlds – dimensions. Could that have been one?” he suggested quietly, as a small worm of worry turned slowly in his mind. He moved behind her, resting his hands on her slender shoulders.

  “It was like that – and not like it,” she turned and looked apprehensively into his eyes. “Whatever it was is getting closer.”

  “The darkness.”

  She nodded her head. “I can feel it. It won't let me rest at night, haunts me during the day. The land senses it, the animals and birds: even the soil and stones. I can't explain it, or even describe it. But... it's my death, Morgan. And it's closely connected with your land.”

  “No,” he whispered and held her tightly. For once, she didn't move away.

  ***

  Hurral Ben-al sat on his white horse and stared at the sun rosed city, far enough away to seem like a vast and elaborate child's toy. He marked out the path he would take, told the six men with him to meet him at this spot at sunset the following day and urged his horse cross-country towards Delgannan.

  He had perhaps half an hour of daylight left and some 20 miles to travel. But, being an outlaw had its advantages. Ben-al had learned the hard way how to travel when there was no light to show pitfalls and obstacles in his way. His horse had too. Besides, the land to the east and the south of Delgannan was neat and orderly, not like the terrain he had become accustomed to riding across. As he went, he wondered what Lord Rainard had accomplished, if anything yet, in his plot to take over the city.

  Most of the city was sleeping as he made his way to its walled heart and to a small, little known doorway, hidden behind thick bushes, which opened out into one of the farthest corners of the gardens. Morgan's mother had first shown him this way in and for a time he'd used it quite regularly, until Ulric found out, stripped Hurral of his title and outcast him years ago, simply for falling in love with the Lady Lianna. Yet he remained a close friend of the ruling family. After all, Ulric had many mistresses, as Lianna had pointed out when she and Hurral had been confronted by the old high lord, why should she be denied her single lover? Of course, Ulric had told her. He would not accept the possibility of another man's child being named heir; not even the blond boy he'd adopted had been given that right.

  Making sure the gate hadn't been blocked up, Hurral left his horse at a near-by inn, then drifted like a shadow through the quiet streets to the back of the hall. It took almost 20 minutes to get the lock working again, to force the door back through the plants and grass, which had grown around both sides of its base during the years, and to avoid making so much noise that the guards who patrolled the walls would be alerted. When that was done, he paused a moment to clean his rust and oil smeared hands, then, wrapped in his black cloak, silently made his way through the acres of gardens to the kitchen doors. Forty minutes passed before he was inside the hall proper.

  “Lord Ben-al.”

  A soft voice halted him in his tracks as he made towards the wide staircase. A tall slender shape moved out of the shadows and into a bar of moonlight thrown across the hall.

  Hurral gave a small, wary bow. “You have the advantage over me, lady,” he murmured, one hand on the long knife he wore beneath his cloak.

  “You don't need that,” she said, nodding towards his concealed hand. “Come over to the fire, please.” Without looking back to see if he followed, she walked silently up to the small glowing fire in the hearth near Morgan's great carved chair of office, and lit a small lamp on the high stone mantelshelf. While Hurral slowly traced her steps, she poured out wine for them both.

  Light from the lamp and fire gave the girl back color which the moon had leeched away. Her robe and the tiny crescent moon on her cheekbone remained dark, but her long, loose hair became a rich mass of bright red-chestnut waves, gleaming as lamplight caught it. Large, purple gold-flecked eyes viewed him as frankly as his did her.

  “I heard there was a seer in Morgan's court,” Hurral observed as she handed him a cup. “You have your mother's eyes, and it seems, your father's habit of disappearing.”

  “I did leave a note, though.”

  “One which wasn't found until you were well on the road to Delgannan,” he pointed out.

  “I didn't want anyone to know where I was going. Not while I was still close enough to be brought back,” Liath replied, smiling slightly, feeling comfortable with the presence of this aging, still-handsome, brigand. Iron-grey hair was drawn straight back from a tanned, lightly lined face, smokey grey eyes smudged with kohl twinkled in the lamp-light, and a neat, close-trimmed beard and moustache bore the same steel as his hair.

  “Not even the head of your order, or your aunt?”

  “Especially not them,” she confirmed.

  “They did have a good idea of your destination,” Hurral stated, sipping his wine. “Although not necessarily the same approval.”

  “I know,” she sighed, grimacing. “I'm going to have to pay for that when I get back. You've just come from Thesa haven't you?”

  Ben-al nodded. “Rainard's the reason I'm here, although I suppose you realize that.”

  “Yes.”

  “The countryside’s crawling with small bands of his men, each apparently on some legitimate task independent of all the others, yet all heading towards Delgannan.”

  “I know.”

  He absently touched the large golden teardrop pearl hanging from his left ear, rings glinting on his fingers. “If they're not stopped, the first of them will arrive here in four days, five at the most.”

  “That's just about right,” she agreed. “The rest of Rainard's fleet will split up and begin docking in three days time, under the guise of traders and merchants. However, the men you send from the hills will stop Rainard's first band from reaching the city.”

  Hurral frowned slightly, and rested his elbow on the high carved mantle-stone of the hearth. “I had heard that you were only a guest in the High Lord's hall, yet you seem to have a clear view of events to come. Ones which even the head of your order could not perceive in detail.”

  “Morgan asked me to help. And it's partly because of me that everyone's futures are clouded. I cast shadows over the lives of people I'm in contact with for any length of time,” she smiled ruefully, with a half-apologetic shrug.

  “And the rest of the reason?” he asked, and saw the animation fade from the girl's lovely face, her gaze shift from him to the low flames in the hearth.

  “I had not meant to pry, lady,” he said gently. “It's always been my belief that a trouble shared is a trouble halved. But then the views of a notorious brigand are not highly thought of in this land.”

  “Your views are highly thought of by the highest in the land, Lord Ben-al,” Liath stated, looking back at him, still using his old title.

  “You flatter me, lady,” he smiled.

  “It's the truth.”

  Hurral laughed softly, “I like you, priestess.”

  “My name's Liath,” she smiled.

  “And mine is Hurral. Shall we go see Morgan now?” he asked, putting his cup down on the hearth, then holding his hand out to her. “I presume you intend to accompany me...”

  She hesitated, remembering the vision she'd had the night before Rainard's arr
ival, and an alternative one she'd had in her room less than an hour ago. She weighed up the possibilities if she ignored either. If she wasn't on hand in Morgan's room, well, that would complicate things, and the best way to get there was with Hurral. Making up her mind, she rested her hand on his arm, and together they walked towards the wide staircase. No one saw, or heard them make their way to the High Lord's rooms, like two tall black shadows.

  Hurral put his hand on the door handle, and frowned; the door was slightly open already. “Did you tell him I was coming?” he whispered to Liath.

  She shook her head. Hurral, one hand on his knife, slowly pushed the handle and warily stepped inside Morgan's dimly lit room, closely followed by the girl.

  “Come in, Hurral, I was expecting you,” the High Lord smiled. “But not you Liath, although you are more than welcome.”

  “Annushi told you I would come,” Ben-al stated, as the young lord stood up from the chair.

  “Yes,” he agreed, stepping over to briefly embrace the older man. “That's one of the very few things she was able to see.”

  “She couldn't see much of my futures either,” Hurral mused, and Liath could have sworn he winked at her.

  “Refreshments?” Morgan offered, smiling at his friend.

  “Not just at the moment; your lovely young seer has already offered me that hospitality – after scaring me half to death stepping out of the shadows like a wraith.”

  Morgan gave her a questioning look. Liath shrugged; if that particular future began to unfold, she was prepared for it. If not, there was no point mentioning it.

  “How are Ky and Conna?” Hurral asked as they seated themselves in deep cushioned chairs around the hearth. “It's a long time since I saw either of them, although I did speak with Raithe at Thesa.”

  “Ky hasn't changed at all, and Conna's in love.”

  “Conna's always in love,” Ben-al smiled.

  “This time, I think it's serious,” Morgan said softly, looking at Liath. “And my harper too, has recently become infatuated with an old love.”

  Hurral followed the direction of his eyes, and saw the two staring at each other. He wondered what undercurrents were running through the High Lord's court now. “Before I left the Temple, I sent a message to my men in the hills; they will intercept the first of Yrloch's men and dispose of them.”

  “Good.”

  “Then, if perhaps you can lend me a few of your most trusted warriors, I'll teach them how to be brigands. With twice as many men, I can inflict twice as much damage. And I have recently found out when Rainard's fleet is to arrive,” he inclined his head towards Liath.

  “You know more than I, then,” Morgan observed.

  “I only...found out...just before Hurral arrived,” she admitted, then sat upright. “Emmer's coming!” she hissed.

  “Damn! Hurral, into my bedroom,” he ordered, stripping off his tunic, “Lee, here!”

  As the nomad lord moved with speed into the other room, Morgan grabbed hold of Liath and slid the wide neck of her robe down over one shoulder. She glared at him and dug her fingers into his arms.

  “I know this is hard, but try and look as though you're enjoying it!” he snapped quietly.

  “That's the trouble,” she muttered, eyes narrowing, but she slipped her arms round Morgan's waist and made no protest when he kissed her. With a supreme effort, she managed not to respond too much.

  “Your hands are freezing!” he whispered into her neck.

  “Next time I'll make sure they're warm!” she growled, moving them over his bare back, feeling his muscles tighten, making sure he got the full benefit of her chill fingers.

  There was a faint knock on the door, then it opened and Rainard's daughter stepped in. She made a small surprised sound as she saw Morgan and Liath.

  “Pardon me, lord,” she said coldly, “I had no idea you were…busy!”

  Morgan looked up and smiled at her. “Emmer, what a pleasant surprise. Will you join us?” he invited, biting back a broader smile as he felt the seer stiffen in his arms.

  “I think not, Morgan,” Emmer stated, forcing a small tight smile onto her lips. “Good night to you both!” She whirled round and stepped angrily out of the room, not quite slamming the door behind her.

  “Thank you, Liath,” Morgan murmured, looking into her eyes. “I know what that must have cost you.”

  Without replying, she began to move away, stopping as Morgan tightened his hold on her. “Before Hurral comes back in, I'd like to offer you a more permanent home in my hall...will you accept the position as one of my advisors?”

  “You must be joking!” she said. He would be too much of a temptation for her to deal with day and night. Then she realized Morgan had misinterpreted the reply.

  He frowned and grabbed hold of her shoulders, almost shaking her. “Damn it, Liath!” Morgan demanded. “Why can't we be friends as we were in Thesa?”

  “You want me as a friend?”

  “Yes!” he snapped. “Since you refuse to be my lover!”

  “Is that all you think of!”

  “No! But I wish you would!”

  “What about your people? And my death.”

  Morgan shivered, but told himself it was the after-effect of Liath's cold hands on his bare back. “The black thing.”

  She nodded.

  “The futures're never certain, Liath. That thing you saw, or felt, it's only one possibility...”

  “It was across my whole time-line, I told you that. There was nothing beyond it, just what ever's within it!”

  “How do you know there's nothing there?” he asked, wishing he could make her forget the whole disturbing thing.

  “Can't you feel it?” she demanded, looking intently into his eyes, gripping his arms. “You must be able to feel it by now. It's so closely linked to you and your land.”

  “I...no...” he replied, refusing to think he was concerned about anything thing else than Rainard's plot to overthrow him and the day to day running of Delgannan.

  She sighed heavily, and gently broke free of his embrace. “I'll have to consult the High Priestess about staying here,” she replied, pulling the neck of her robe straight. “But she'll never agree to it.”

  Morgan smiled, and omitted telling her that he already had a letter drafted out to Demora, waiting to be sent by messenger bird to the Temple.

  “Friends, again?” he asked.

  Liath studied him a moment, then smiled. “Friends,” she agreed.

  “Can I come out now?” Hurral asked from the other room.

  “Yes, Emmer's gone.”

  While the brigand lord came back into Morgan's sitting room, the High Lord strode across to the table and poured out three cups of wine. “A toast,” he declared, handing one each to Liath and Hurral, “to my friend and advisor-to-be, priestess, healer and seer, Liath!”

  Hurral raised his eyebrows, then his cup, at the girl. “To the priestess,” he agreed. When they had drunk, Morgan re-filled their cups and sat down in his chair, his companions joining him in front of the low burning fire in the hearth.

  “Well,” Hurral smiled, taking a seat, “you managed to get rid of Rainard's daughter very quickly.”

  “Yes. Remember that, Lee, next time Laelan tries to get near you,” Morgan said.

  “I doubt he and Emmer have the same goal in mind,” she muttered perching on the edge on the remaining chair. “Marriage is the last thing he wants.”

  Morgan took a sip of wine. “Although it may not seem like it, I know everything which goes on in my hall, including that little incident the other evening. That Yrloch whelp plans to...”

  “We both know what he plans to do,” she interrupted, “and I'll take steps to see he doesn't get the opportunity to try again – without any help from your blond brother.”

  “If he tries one more thing with you, he's a dead man,” Morgan stated coldly.

  “Laelan is relatively harmless,” Liath replied.

  “He wants you out of my co
urt and as far away as possible – permanently!” the young lord snapped. “He's already tried to have you killed. You call that harmless?”

  “Killed?” Hurral asked.

  Liath hurriedly gave a condensed account of the event. “Although I'm sure his father wasn't aware of Laelan's attempt, it would put his own skin in too much jeopardy.”

  “True,” the outlaw agreed. “Even Rainard is not such a fool as to let that happen.”

  “It didn't stop that bastard sheep-loving son of his from trying to...”

  “Morgan!” The force and tone of command in Liath's voice stopped him in mid-sentence. Hurral watched them both closely. Morgan's eyebrows lowered, drawn together in a frown, his eyes narrowed, glinting dangerously. Few people, Hurral knew, dared talk to the High Lord like that in his own hall. Liath suddenly realized that and decided she'd better leave, rather than become involved in an argument.

  “If you'll excuse me,” she said quietly, putting her wine cup on the floor and standing up, “I'll let you both talk in private. Lord Ben-al, I am honored to have met you.” She inclined her head briefly, then strode swiftly to the door.

  Morgan opened his mouth to call her back, then sighed instead. “She may be a priestess and a seer,” he said, “but she is one hell of a mule-brained girl.”

  Hurral smiled behind his wine cup. “I like your young friend. She's got a good, and very lovely, head on her shoulders.”

  “Yes. I like her too,” Morgan admitted, staring at the chair she had occupied a few moments before. “Very much.”

  “But surely you realize Demora won't let her stay here, not a seer, not even Druin's daughter, and especially not an Akashii,” Hurral added.

  “We'll see,” Morgan smiled, looking back at the outcast lord. “Conna and Balin love her. But Ky hates her.”

  “You mean, there is actually a woman that big northlander dislikes?” Hurral chuckled.