Chasing Earth and Flame

by Adonis Devereux

  Evernight Publishing

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2012 Adonis Devereux

  ISBN: 978-1-927368-88-6

  Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

  Editor: Marie Medina

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  To JMJ

  CHASING EARTH AND FLAME

  Adonis Devereux

  Copyright © 2012

  Chapter One

  Nevia leaned forward and idly dragged her fingers through the water of the open-air courtyard pool. The temperature was unusually warm for late spring; it felt like a fully summer’s day. Nevia’s fingers left delicate tracings of frost on the surface of the water, tracings which the heat melted instantly. Before she heard his voice, she heard the sounds of flowing water, and she knew her former tutor approached.

  “What is the matter, little pupil?” Garalach stood at the edge of the peristyle.

  Nevia looked up to see him, and the sight of his watery ever-flowing hair pleased her. “I am not your pupil any longer.” She rose to her feet and straightened her loose gown. “As of today, I am a full Lorin in my own right.”

  “You have been that for quite some time, really.” Garalach looked Nevia up and down, and she laughed in her fire.

  “You would never have told me that before today.” Nevia’s laughter faded as quickly as it had come. “Today I am eighteen, Garalach.”

  “That is not so old.” Garalach sat, and Nevia resumed her place at the side of the pool.

  “Yes, it is.” Nevia did not look at her former tutor. She kept her gaze fastened on the surface of the pool. The water of it seemed to soothe some longing in her, and she dragged her fingers over it once more. “I could have been – should have been – married well before this.”

  “Domina?” The sounds of the bare feet of her nurse drew Nevia’s attention. “The Dominus your father requires your presence in his study.”

  “I go.” Nevia sighed in her airs, and Garalach smiled in his in response. As she followed Ginovae into the house, Nevia amused herself by trying to read her nurse’s expressions. As nearly as Nevia could judge, the upturned corners of Ginovae’s mouth represented pleasure. The eyes seemed a bit brighter than usual, as well. Nevia concluded, just as the door to her father’s study opened, that her nurse was happy and that therefore the news her father was going to share was likely to be good.

  “Welcome, daughter.” Nevius Akar Judal was seated at his desk, attended by two slaves, one of whom Nevia recognized for the family scribe.

  “Father.” Nevia bobbed her head and bent her knees as a daughter should, but she knew perfectly well that her father would not see the appropriate humility on her face. She sighed in her airs again. Nor would he see the resentment that was actually present. Her elements were invisible to him, and she knew that he saw her as an unfeeling statue.

  “I have good news for you.” Judal turned up the corners of his mouth, but Nevia saw no additional light in his eyes. “You are to be married.”

  Shock rippled through Nevia’s water. “When? And to whom?”

  “Tomorrow,” said Judal. He began shuffling through tablets and scrolls on his desk. “To Melenius Lozabet Firin.”

  All four of Nevia’s elements raged about her in her increasing astonishment and dawning fury. “Tomorrow? With no betrothal feast?”

  “We will leave before dawn for our villa in Talor province.” Judal was no longer looking at Nevia. His stylus scratched across the wax of the tablet before him.

  Nevia’s wrath burst from her flames, but her voice was, she knew, flat and uninflected in her father’s ears. “So we will arrive at the villa by noon, and I am to be wedded there? In the country? Why not at the temple of Jehiel in the Forum?”

  “Yes.” Judal handed the tablet to the scribe. “Take that to the temple of Galadrin. Read the contract the priest will give you in return. If it matches exactly, then leave the tablet there. If it does not, return to me at once, bringing this back again.”

  Nevia was accustomed to her father ignoring her, but she did not intend to leave his chamber without an answer. She waited, studying her father as she had studied her nurse. The gold of her father’s hair was rich, only tinting with a glint of silver at the temples. His face was unlined, save for two grooves at the corners of his mouth, grooves that grew deeper when his mouth turned downward, as it did now.

  “Why are you still here, daughter? Have you not gowns to pack?” Judal’s voice altered its pitch, and Nevia recognized the sound for annoyance.

  “I await your answer to my queries, Father.” Nevia did not bother to hide her invisible irritation. “I asked you ‘why’, and you responded ‘yes’.”

  “I have obtained a fine husband for you.” Judal paused in his writing to look up at Nevia. “I admit that he is a foreigner, but surely you are pleased at the idea of marrying the only noble Lorin in Nirrion besides yourself?”

  Nevia decided not to probe her father any further. She knew that he would tell her nothing of his ulterior motive; that he had an ulterior motive, she knew without doubt. She satisfied herself with goading him instead. “But Lord Firin is not a foreigner, Father. He was born in Nirrion, just as I was. His blood may originate in the Faror lands, but he is a Senator, just as my brother is.”

  “And your brother Nevius will not be able to attend your wedding. He is still at the front lines, of course. His leave will be in a fortnight, so you ought to be back in Nirrion to greet him by then.” Judal waved her out. “Go prepare yourself. We leave before the sun.”

  Nevia again dropped her knees and left, Ginovae following hard after.

  “Domina, are you not pleased?”

  Nevia smiled in her airs as kindly as she could. “Of course, Ginovae. At last the shame of my spinsterhood will be erased. For the foremost maid in Nirrion to be unwed at eighteen – it burns my earth to think of it.”

  “Yes, Domina.” Ginovae then launched into a catalog of Nevia’s gowns, sandals, and slippers, asking which to take and which to leave.

  Nevia did not listen. “You choose.” Ginovae ran off to obey, and Nevia slipped into her father’s record chamber. As high priest of Nirrion, he had more records in his house than did some temples, and Nevia sighed as she surveyed the shelves. Tablet upon tablet, scroll upon scroll, and she had only a few minutes before she would be missed.

  Nevia clasped her hands and pulled up the fire within herself. She was a Lorin of Fire, after all, and as she bathed herself in the burning, she stoked her own inspiration. When the flames disappeared with her next breath, she knew precisely where to look. Without hesitation, she pulled an ornate scroll-case from the fifth shelf on the west wall, seven cases in. She unhooked the case and unrolled the scroll. There she saw the object of her divination, the marriage contract between herself and Melenius Lozabet Firin. She skimmed over it, reading the various clauses and stipulations. For the most part, it was a standard contract of marriage, a making over of her father’s ownership of her to Melenius’s possession. All goods she owned would be transferred to Melenius, all property, all debts receivable. So far there was nothing that could explain her father’s strange behavior. Why would he not give her a betrothal feast? Why was her wedding to be so private? Nevia did not flatter herself that h
er father might care what she thought of the matter, but that he would forgo the opportunity to gather favors by giving or withholding invitations to the bridal feast of his only daughter – that Nevia would never believe. She was the highest noble lady in Nirrion, excepting only her own mother, and there was no maid whose marriage would be of more importance. Nevia’s airs sank into her earth in her perplexity. Why should her father give up the chance for so many bribes? He could, as chief priest and head of the Akar clan, even have a public holiday declared for her nuptials. How many merchants could he have gotten money from just for the holiday alone? As for those merchants known to have catered the affair, their custom would doubtless have doubled from being hired for such an event. Why would her father, who though admittedly rich beyond need of such things, have given this up in exchange for a hurried ceremony witnessed by no one save himself?

  Nevia continued to examine the contract, but though she was familiar with Nirrion legal terms and technicalities, there was nothing that drew her eye as unusual, aside from the exorbitant brideprice her father had demanded. Of course, that was to be expected. Melenius Lozabet Firin was not of high enough blood even to have thought of marrying her. Of the thirty High Houses of Nirrion, the Lozabet clan was ranked twelfth. The Akar was first. Nevia would not have been surprised to learn that half the Lozabet fortune had gone to her brideprice, and even then the nobles would consider Lord Firin to have been as fortunate as Aeirakai Moon-goddess herself could make him.

  Nevia was about to roll up the scroll when one thing caught her attention. The date. The contract was ten years old. She had been betrothed to Melenius since she was eight years old. Confusion warred with wrath in Nevia’s elements as she closed the scroll-case and returned it to its place. Here were no answers, only deeper mysteries. Why should Melenius not have taken her to wife five years before? Why had she been forced to live with the growing shame of spinsterhood? Was it her father’s doing? Or Melenius’s?

  She considered. Why should her father wait? The payment that Melenius owed had, according to the scrolls, only just been completed the previous Waterday, but had Melenius wedded her before the brideprice had been paid, he would have been in her father’s debt. That would have been much preferable, Nevia knew, to her father. Nevius Akar Judal had no need of money; he owned more property than any man in Nirrion. He would have been willing to let Melenius have her early in order to have influence over Melenius’s votes in the Senate. Therefore it must have been Melenius’s decision. But why should Melenius have done this? To what end? Why should he have waited? His name was not linked in gossip with that of anyone, so it was doubtful that Melenius tarried for reasons of sentiment. Nevia could find no explanation for why Melenius should have left her to live in shame for five years, and fury spiked through her elements.

  “Domina?”

  At the sound of Ginovae’s voice in the passage, Nevia darted out of the record chamber. By the time her nurse rounded the corner, Nevia was halfway down the hall.

  “Domina, your tut – Garalach, I mean, is … here.”

  Nevia’s airs rippled in amusement, for Garalach stood behind Ginovae. Though he was not much taller than her nurse, Garalach was a head taller than Nevia, and she had a clear view of the water of his ever-flowing hair.

  “I heard from Ginovae that you are to be married.” Garalach stepped around the nurse and stood beside Nevia. “Is there any way that I can comfort you?”

  “Comfort?” Nevia could not keep her elements in check; the amusement that had earlier tinted them turned into full-blown laughter. “Comfort now that the blot of my spinsterhood is to be wiped away?”

  Garalach hesitated. “Perhaps, Lady, we could speak alone? Of Lorin matters?” His fires darted lightly toward Ginovae.

  Nevia understood at once. “Ginovae, there are some jewels of my mother’s that I would like to take to my new home. The sapphire bracelet in the silver setting and the emerald combs. Do see if she will give them to me.”

  “Yes, Domina.” And Ginovae was gone, leaving Nevia and Garalach alone in the passage.

  “Lady Nevia, I am sorry that you are to be yoked to a human.” All his tones were gentle. “Truly, I am. But you need not be concerned. I will not abandon you. You will not be alone with them, with the beasts that they are.”

  “Beasts.” Nevia repeated the word, considering it. “They are as difficult to read as the hawks my father keeps.”

  “And they can no more decipher your feelings, your emotions, your heart, than can your father’s hawks.” Garalach took a step nearer. “But that very ignorance grants you freedom to behave as you will.”

  Nevia smiled. “You have always reminded me to find the privacy a benefit rather than the loneliness a burden.”

  “But it is a burden, Lady Nevia Akara, a terrible one. I have been a Lorin alone for far longer than you have, and I know the ache of being misunderstood, of being treated as an outcast.”

  Nevia saw the traces of sorrow streak through Garalach’s earth. “Come now, Garalach. You speak as though you have been alone for far longer than you have. You have been my tutor these past five years, and for one of those you also tutored Melenius Lozabet Firin.”

  “Yes, I was his teacher before I was yours, and for a time I taught you both.” Garalach’s sorrow evaporated from his earth. “You are correct that it has been several years since I knew the bitterness of being a Lorin alone. You are about to go into just such a situation, my Lady. You will know what it is to dwell in a house where you alone are the only true person, where all the others who would consider themselves your equals can no more comprehend you or your elements than can the horses in the stable.” Garalach laid his hand on her arm as he spoke.

  “No.” Nevia disengaged her arm. “I am not to live so. I am to marry Firin.”

  “Melenius?” Nevia saw the shock dart through all four of Garalach’s elements, and she felt his airs whispering around her, almost as though he had more to say.

  “What do you know of Firin?” she asked. “You were his tutor, too. You dwelt in his house before you came to live in mine. What is he like?”

  “He is tall,” said Garalach. “Taller than any man in the Senate. He is dark, of course, for his family have never wedded outside the Faror clans … before this. His hair is long, much longer than any proper Senator ought to wear it. He wears a beard, too, but at least he dresses in Nirrion fashions, in the proper toga of a Senator. Though, I admit, the colors are wrong.”

  Nevia sighed. “Garalach, though I have never spoken with Firin, I have seen him. All this I knew already. I wish to know what he is like, the man himself.”

  “He is proud, my Lady, proud as the Master-Smith himself.”

  Nevia gave up. For some reason she could not fathom, Garalach was being stubborn, stubborn and insulting, really. “What are his elements at least? You must share at least one element with him to have been able to teach him.” Nevia’s own elements were Fire and Earth, and with Garalach she shared only Earth. She hoped that Melenius would have both.

  “I share Water with him,” said Garalach. “His other element is Air.”

  Nevia sighed. So she shared with her betrothed no elements at all.

  “If you do not mind, my Lady, I think I will go. Surely you have preparations for your betrothal feast to make.” Garalach bowed.

  “No, I have not. I am to be wedded tomorrow.” Nevia knew that Garalach would be able to read her puzzlement in her elements, but she did not care. Perhaps he would even try to find out more information for her. It would be like him to try to please her in that way.

  “May Chiel Queen of Air bless your nuptials, my Lady.” Garalach did not stay further, and Nevia watched him go with a mixture of relief and disappointment. When he had gone, she was effectively alone.

  “Domina?” Ginovae was once more at her side. “The Domina your mother permitted that you have the sapphire bracelet, but the emerald combs she does not wish to part with.”

  Nevia observed Gino
vae’s face as closely as she could. Human reactions were annoyingly difficult to read. There was something in Ginovae’s tone, an emotion Nevia could not determine. It might have been irritation, or possibly even anger.

  “Is my mother angry with me for the request?” asked Nevia, resolved to decipher Ginovae’s expression. It was never good to be at a disadvantage, and being unable to read the expressions of those around her was a distinct disadvantage.

  “No, Domina.” Ginovae’s face smoothed, and the corners of her mouth turned up. “She was too happy that you are to be married to be upset with any request you might make. She is not, however, able to join you. She has too much to do in preparation for your brother’s return from the front.”

  Nevia paused, considering. Her brother’s return from the front lines would not be for a fortnight, and it made no sense for her mother to remain behind. However, there was no more to be learned here. Her mother, she was certain, would know nothing. She decided. “If I am to leave before dawn, I will want to be rested. Have Tam and Jora both sent to my chambers.”

  “Yes, Domina. Will you have the new slaves brought in as well?”

  “No.” Nevia did not wish to have to instruct anyone in her pleasure. “Tam and Jora will suffice me.”

  ****

  Nevia lay back on her bed. She smelled of the lavender salts from her bath, and she closed her eyes, enjoying the scent. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, and the evening’s coolness crept in through the curtains. Ginovae stood at the foot of the bed, waving a feathered fan.

  “Domina.” The door opened to admit Tam and Jora. Tam was a mixed-blooded slave, a slim and beautiful youth with dark hair and the largest cock Nevia had ever seen on a pleasure slave. As for Jora, she was a pure-blooded Jarad, born in the Akar household, and though she was not as lovely as some Jarad, she possessed the most skillful tongue of Nevia’s experience.