Dreams Made Flesh bj-5

by Anne Bishop

  Lucivar nodded. "I'll contact Marian and ask her to come to the Hall to keep Jaenelle company." He waited a beat. "What about Surreal?"

  "I'll find Surreal."

  Lucivar pushed away from the table. "In that case, let's get this done."

  3

  Daemon waited until Lucivar and Jaenelle were on their way to the Hall before trying to contact Surreal. The staff had cleaned off the dining room table and brought him a fresh cup and another pot of coffee.

  Pouring a cup, he sent a call on a Gray psychic thread, aimed toward a mind he knew well. *Surreal?*

  *What?*

  The surly tone relieved him enough to make him smile. *Are you all right?*

  *I'm… fine.*

  *Where are you?*

  *Country house. Don't think it's that far away from Amdarh.*

  *Are you sure you're all right? You sound breathless.*

  *Damn… ax… is dull.*

  Daemon raised an eyebrow. *Do I want to know what you're doing with an ax?*

  *Have you had breakfast?*

  *I've eaten.*

  *Then you don't want to know.*

  He sipped his coffee while he considered how to respond to that.

  *In a few hours, I might have some information for you,* Surreal said.

  *I know who's behind the rumors.*

  *Well… shit.* A pause. *Guess I'll finish this anyway.*

  *Do you need help?*

  *Do you?*

  *No.*

  *Then I'll take care of my business, and you take care of yours. I'll be back in Amdarh late tonight.*

  Taking a last sip of coffee, Daemon left the dining room. Since Surreal didn't need his help, he'd take care of the next errand.

  4

  After he and Saetan had settled in comfortable chairs in one of the Keep's smaller sitting rooms, Daemon got to the point.

  "I have business to take care of in Amdarh. Until it's done, I would appreciate it if you would stay at the Hall…at least for part of the time."

  "To protect Jaenelle?" Saetan asked softly.

  Daemon nodded.

  "What about Lucivar?"

  "He'll be there. So will Kaelas and Ladvarian. But…"

  "But?"

  Daemon looked into his father's golden eyes. "But they aren't you."

  Saetan inclined his head. "Understood."

  No questions about his business, no comment about why an Arcerian cat and an Eyrien Warlord Prince wouldn't be sufficient protection. There was no need. He was, after all, his father's mirror.

  "Anything else?"

  Daemon hesitated. Who else could he ask? "I…There was something I wanted to say to Jaenelle… in the Old Tongue. But it didn't come out as I intended."

  Saetan raised an eyebrow. "What did you say?"

  Daemon hesitated, then said the words.

  " 'I eat cow brains'?" Saetan burst out laughing.

  Since there was nothing else he could do, he sat back to wait out his father's amusement. So he waited. And waited. And waited.

  Finally, he sighed. It could have been worse. There could have been witnesses. No matter what else was said about him, he did not want to be known as the man who had reduced the High Lord of Hell to giggles.

  "I'm sorry," Saetan gasped. Calling in a handkerchief, he wiped his eyes. "I can imagine the response to that."

  "I'm sure you can," Daemon said dryly.

  With effort, Saetan regained his composure. "So, what were you trying to say?"

  Daemon took a deep breath, let it out slowly…and told him.

  Great. Wonderful. He'd not only made the High Lord giggle, he'd made the man blush.

  "I see." Saetan cleared his throat. "I'm… not sure that can be said in the Old Tongue. Let me think about it and see if I can come up with something that would let Jaenelle know she…"

  "Is everything," Daemon finished quietly. "She is everything."

  Saetan smiled. "Yes. She is everything."

  Fourteen

  1

  Shivering, Lektra called in a shawl and wrapped it around herself. So cold. So terribly cold. But no one else seemed to notice except Roxie, who had retreated to her room.

  Tavey was dead. Viciously murdered. Lady Zhara's Master of the Guard had come earlier that morning to tell her the body had been found…and to ask questions. Even through her shock and dismay, she'd realized the Master didn't care who had killed Tavey. After all, there was no law against murder among the Blood. No, he'd come to the town house as a courtesy…and to find out if Tavey's death foreshadowed a danger to his Queen.

  She couldn't tell him what he wanted to know, and she wasn't about to tell him anything else. What could she say? She didn't actually know Tavey had talked to Daemon. And why would her beautiful love kill a man who was offering him a way out of an unwanted marriage? Besides, Daemon had been trained to be a lover, not a warrior.

  So it had to have been someone else, someone who didn't want Daemon free of his ties to Jaenelle Angelline.

  A warrior. Like Lucivar Yaslana. Maybe Daemon had already left the parlor by the time Tavey got there. Maybe Tavey had found Lucivar in the narlor and had blurted out his little speech thinking that telling Daemon's brother was easier than telling Daemon himself. But Lucivar was an Eyrien warrior. Brutal. Savage. Roxie had told her over and over how mean Lucivar had been to her, threatening to kill her once he got tired of bedding her, forcing her to flee her home and family in Ebon Rih so that he could marry some hearth witch nobody.

  Yes, Lucivar Yaslana wouldn't have thought twice about killing Tavey. After all, killing was what he did. Why not force Daemon into continuing to play nursemaid so that he wouldn't have to take care of Jaenelle?

  She walked over to the window, intending to look out, but something shuddered through her, making her back away.

  There was something outside, waiting for her. Something dangerous. Something deadly. Something cold.

  Shivering violently, Lektra hurried to the other side of the room, away from the windows, away from whatever was out there.

  As long as she stayed inside, she was safe. Whatever it was couldn't get in, couldn't harm her. As long as she stayed inside.

  Wrapped in Black shields that prevented the rest of the Blood from detecting his presence, Daemon watched the town house across the street. Lady Lektra's town house. Easy enough to find the root of all the rumors once he'd known where to look…and if it hadn't been for the Warlord at the party last night, he never would have looked in her direction. He'd probably seen her at a party or some other public gathering, maybe had even danced with her, a transient partner in one of those country dances. But he didn't remember her. The face he'd pulled from the Warlord's mind meant nothing to him.

  Lektra's friend, however, did have a connection to him. Or, at least, to his brother. How unfortunate for her.

  Smiling, Daemon walked away. His prey wouldn't go anywhere. The spells he'd wrapped around the town house would make sure of that. Whenever Lektra or Roxie got near a window or door leading outside, they would feel certain something deadly waited for them beyond those doors and windows…

  Which was true.… and they were safe as long as they remained inside.

  Which was not true.

  But he would let them have the illusion of safety for a few more hours. Because some games were best played in the dark.

  2

  Saetan knocked on the workroom door, then opened it enough to poke his head into the room. "I'm looking for a witchling. Seen any about?"

  Turning away from the worktable, Jaenelle gave him a dazzling smile. "Papa! What brings you to the Hall?"

  "Nothing in particular," he replied, walking toward the worktable. "I just wanted to see… how… you were… doing." He stared at the rosebush rising up from a bowl on the table. "Mother Night, witch-child. It's beautiful."

  Jaenelle looked at the rosebush and grinned. "I'm pleased with it."

  Saetan circled the table to get a better look at the illusion she'd c
reated. But he tried to touch one of the roses just to be sure it was an illusion. She'd always been able to create illusion spells that could fool the eye, and it seemed she hadn't lost that ability. But something felt different about this spell.

  "Can you show me how you did this?"

  She looked at the various jars and small bowls on the table and nodded. "I have enough ingredients to make several more."

  So she showed him how to build a rosebush out of powders made from pastel chalks, dried rose petals, thorns, and a few other things. He mentally noted what she did and how much of each ingredient she used, but most of his attention was on Twilight's Dawn.

  Whenever he'd seen it before, the Jewel she now wore looked like a Purple Dusk accented by other colors. Now, as she worked through the illusion spell, he watched it change. When she began working on the leaves, the center of the Jewel became dominantly Green, then shifted to Rose with a strong touch of Red while she created the flowers.

  He didn't know why it was changing like that, didn't know how it could change like that.

  It played havoc with his ability to measure her strength against his own because hers kept sliding. One moment he would have sworn the woman beside him was a Rose-Jeweled witch. The next moment, her power resonated with his Birthright Red. It was as if she were dancing on webs of power, and the threads she plucked shone the brightest.

  Webs of power. Lorn had created webs of power to help prevent Witch, the living myth, from plunging back into the Darkness after Jaenelle unleashed her Ebony power to save Kaeleer. And Lorn had given Ladvarian the Jewel that was called Twilight's Dawn.

  Fingers snapping in front of his face startled a snarl out of him.

  "Hell's fire, witch-child."

  "Well, you haven't heard anything I've said for the past minute or so," Jaenelle said. "I didn't want you to come back from wherever your mind had wandered and find me gone."

  "Gone?" His heart leaped as memories of webs of power shattering in the abyss filled his mind. "Where are you going?"

  We can't lose her now. We can't. She is everything. She is still everything.

  Jaenelle studied him for a long moment, her sapphire eyes seeing too much. But she gave him a daughter's tolerant smile. "First I'm going to wash up. Then I'm going to join the others for the midday meal. Which I already told you."

  "My apologies, witch-child. You're right. My mind was elsewhere."

  "I noticed. Are you going to join us? Khary and Morghann are here, as well as Lucivar and Marian."

  "No, I'd like to stay here and play around with your powders if you don't mind."

  Jaenelle kissed his cheek. "Please yourself."

  "What about you, witch-child?" He looked into her eyes. Still beautiful, still ancient. But he couldn't shake the feeling that he had disappointed her in some way. "Are you pleased?" She knew him well enough to know he wasn't asking about the illusion spell.

  "I lost nothing I regret losing," Witch said softly. "I am what I want to be."

  He watched her walk out of the room. There was a message under her words, something she wanted him to understand but didn't want to tell him outright.

  Turning back to the worktable, he set her rosebushes to one side. Maybe figuring out one puzzle would help him figure out the other.

  "Am I interrupting? I could come back later."

  An hour of frustration hadn't made him cheerful, but he forced himself to smile at Marian, who hesitated in the workroom's doorway. "Yes, you're interrupting, and I'm grateful."

  Marian walked over to the worktable. "Oh, dear. Is it that bad?" She looked at the dark, twisted, misshapen lump that rose out of the bowl and winced. "I guess it is that bad." She hesitated. "Jaenelle did that?"

  "No, Jaenelle created those." Saetan pointed at the rosebushes.

  Marian's mouth fell open. She hurried around the table to get a better look. "Oh, these are lovely. If you rubbed some rose oil on the rim of the bowl for scent, you wouldn't know for sure these aren't real until you tried to touch them." She studied the rosebushes. "I wonder how long the spells last."

  "Why?"

  "Well, if the spells lasted a while, people could decorate a room with one of these illusions and have a potted rosebush in a room that wouldn't support a real plant…or even have roses in a climate that wouldn't be suitable for real ones."

  He smiled with real warmth and fatherly affection. Jaenelle, the living myth, could create such an illusion, but Marian, the practical hearth witch, could think of a way to use it.

  Marian walked around the table to stand beside him. "So what is that?"

  They looked at the misshapen lump in the bowl.

  Saetan sighed. "My attempt to reproduce the illusion." Then he studied Marian, an idea springing up. "Is there something you need to do right now?"

  "No," she said cautiously.

  "Would you be willing to help with an experiment? We'll need Morghann, too."

  "All right. I'll call her."

  He set aside his failed spell, called in another bowl, then made sure the two witches would have everything they needed. By the time Morghann hurried into the workroom, he was ready.

  "But we don't know how Jaenelle created that illusion spell," Morghann said after he'd explained what he wanted them to do.

  "I know how she did it," Saetan said. "I'll talk you through the steps, but I want the two of you to do the actual spell."

  They didn't understand, but Morghann and Marian followed his instructions, Morghann using her Green Jewel and Marian alternating between her Birthright Rose and her Purple Dusk Jewels.

  When the last ingredient was added and the last part of the spell invoked, the two women laughed in delight as the rosebush rose out of the bowl. The illusion wasn't as big as the ones Jaenelle created, and it didn't fool the eye quite as well, but the spell had worked. He wasn't sure if that pleased him or chilled him. "So just what was it you were trying to find out, Uncle Saetan?" Morghann asked.

  "The two of you can reproduce the illusion spell Jaenelle created," he said quietly. "I can't."

  Marian frowned. "But… you're stronger than either of us. Why can't you do it?"

  "Because I wear the Black, and the Red is my Birthright Jewel." He studied their illusion. "Power can't be diluted. It's not just that I have a deeper well of power than someone who wears a Jewel lighter than mine, my power is also more potent."

  Morghann nodded. "Something you could do with one drop of Red power I could do with three or four drops of Green…and Marian could do using more of her Purple Dusk strength. But that's how it is. Three people doing the same spell will create the same thing, but how much power they have to use and the potency of the spell will depend on their Jewel strength."

  "But not in this case." Saetan tipped his head to indicate the rosebush. "I couldn't reproduce the spell using an equivalent amount of power that should have matched the Rose, Purple Dusk, and Green that Jaenelle used. You two could reproduce it because your power has the right potency."

  Marian frowned. "Then… how did Jaenelle create the illusion spell in the first place?"

  "I don't know." But I'm going to find out. "Tell Lucivar I'll be back as soon as I can." He headed for the door, his mind already focusing on how to ask the questions that would provide some answers.

  "Where are you going?" Marian asked.

  Saetan paused in the doorway and looked back at the two witches. "I'm going to visit an old friend."

  3

  Saetan descended the stone stairs. He'd gone down this staircase many times during the years when Jaenelle had been the Queen of Ebon Askavi. Since returning to the Keep to live, he made this descent at least twice a month because he understood loneliness, and an hour's company now and then was all he could offer this ancient being.

  The double doors at the bottom of the stairs swung open. Torches set in the walls flared to life as he walked to the other end of the huge chamber where the dragon's head came through an opening in the wall.

  Unab
le to stop himself, he looked at the simple throne and the shattered scepter that lay on the seat exactly where Draca had set it after telling the First Circle that the Queen of Ebon Askavi was gone and the Dark Court no longer existed. Did seeing those reminders of what was lost ever bother Draca or her mate, the legendary Prince of the Dragons? Or did they think of it as a memorial for a Queen who had been the most powerful witch in the history of the Blood?

  He looked away…and saw the dragon's large golden eyes were now open and watching him.

  "Lorn," he said.

  *Ssaetan.*

  "I need answers."

  *You have assked no quesstionss,* Lorn replied, sounding amused.

  Saetan didn't feel amused. "What is Twilight's Dawn?"

  *It iss the Jewel for Kaeleer'ss Heart.*

  Frustration welled up inside him. "But what is it? How can one Jewel act like it's many Jewels? How did you create it?"

  *I didn't. You did.* Saetan stared at Lorn.

  *Father. Brother. Lover. You created Twilight'ss Dawn.* Webs of power stretching across a chasm somewhere in the abyss. Him, racing up to intercept Witch as she plummeted toward those webs, Lorn's warning that if she smashed through all the webs they would lose her ringing in his head. Catching her, smashing through the White, the Yellow, the Tiger Eye webs while he fought to slow her descent. Lucivar, taking his place, rolling Witch in the Rose web as they smashed through it. Rolling her in the other webs, beginning to slow the descent while wrapping her in a cocoon of power. Daemon, taking over at the Green web, fighting to stop the fall, fighting to hold on to the person who held his heart. Finally coming to rest on the Black web.

  A Jewel formed by layers of power? A Jewel that had, somehow, retained those distinct layers? Extraordinary, to be sure… but still less than her Birthright.

  "We didn't know," Saetan said quietly, deep sorrow weighing on his heart. "If we'd realized, maybe there was something we could have done differently."

  *Your tassk wass to hold the dream to the flessh. You did what needed to be done,* Lorn said.

  "But we changed her."

  *You changed nothing, Ssaetan. Sshe iss who sshe hass alwayss been.* He shook his head.

  "If that were true, Jaenelle would still wear the Black. She lost that."