by Cas Peace
Robin was about to protest the implied slight when he saw the teasing glitter in her eyes. He grinned before sobering. “But if Bull comes with me, who will go to Port Loxton with you?”
She gazed at him. Two years ago she might have rebuked him for implying she needed protection, but last year’s events had changed things. It was an Artesan rule that they never went anywhere alone if they could avoid it, traveling in pairs to back each other up if necessary. If Elias’s plans for the College materialized and the current tide of mistrust was turned, this precaution might become redundant. For now, though, it was neither politic nor safe to ignore the dangers.
“Who would you suggest, Robin?” she asked, knowing there was only one choice.
Robin knew it too. “Taran, of course. You know I trust him.”
Robin was well aware of the deep feelings Taran harbored for Sullyan. But he also knew that Sullyan was totally committed to their marriage, and that Taran was too honorable to act on his feelings.
Sullyan smiled and reached for fresh parchment to pen a reply to the King’s command.
*****
The runner had gone, carrying Sullyan’s reply back to the King. Bull and Robin had also left, to finalize their arrangements for the military exercises in Andaryon. Having made sure there was fresh fellan brewing in the apartment she now shared with Robin, Sullyan sent young Tad in search of Taran. She left the apartment door open so he would know to come through when he found the adjoining office empty.
He didn’t keep her waiting, and entered in response to her call. He looked around, probably thinking that despite Robin’s occupation the apartment was not much altered from the very first time he had seen it. Early summer sunlight slanted in through the open windows and the breeze carried the sounds of men drilling outside. The familiarity of the room and the sounds were both fitting and comforting.
He gave Sullyan a warm smile as she handed him the inevitable cup of fellan. Sinking into a chair opposite her, he raised his brows as he sipped the drink.
She handed him the King’s message. “Read this, will you?”
He did so, grinning as he took in the postscript. Handing the letter back he said, “I take it you want me to look after something for you while you’re away?”
“Yes, Taran,” she replied, holding his gaze. “Me.”
As she had expected, he was confused. “Robin and Bull are committed to conducting this joint exercise in Andaryon over the coming week,” she explained. “As you know, I had intended to go with them, but this… request from the King takes precedence. Especially as he has already obtained my release from the General. Therefore, I need someone to stand for me while I am away. So, my friend, do you fancy a trip to Port Loxton?”
Taran’s eyes widened. A curious expression came over his face, half pleasure and half apprehension. His tone was wary as he asked, “What does Robin say to this?”
Sullyan sighed. Taran’s regrettable lack of self-confidence, coupled with his highly developed sense of honor, left him vulnerable to feelings of insecurity where Robin was concerned. Not only was Robin a Master Artesan, two full levels above Taran, but the Adept was also aware that Robin knew of his love for Sullyan. He was painfully over careful not to offend Robin’s sensibilities where she was concerned.
She tried to reassure him, but knew of someone who could do it better. “Robin trusts you, Taran, as do I. You should be confident of that by now. Do I take it you are willing then? We might even get the opportunity for some training on the way, although this is really a pleasure trip.”
She had slyly dangled the one inducement guaranteed to persuade Taran had he been reluctant, which he wasn’t. Recognizing her ploy, he grinned. “I am at your command, Colonel, as well you know. When do we leave?”
“First thing tomorrow,” she said, the warmth in her eyes making Taran flush. “Be sure to pack something suitable for court, and remember that we are going to attend a fair. There will be festivities and, I am sure, plenty of unattached young ladies.”
He pursed his lips. He was aware that she hoped he would find someone else to lavish his attentions on, but he resisted whenever the subject arose. The simple truth was that he didn’t want to. He had accepted the fact that she couldn’t return his feelings, but he was also aware that she was deeply fond of him. She had even told him as much when she had asked him to stay at the Manor, in a desire to be completely honest. She would continue to wish that he would find someone to share his life and experience the love he had to give, but if he didn’t care to she could hardly force him. He seemed content to accept and treasure her friendship, supporting both her and Robin as best he could.
Sighing, she sent him to instruct the stablemaster to have their mounts ready for the following morning.
*****
After delivering Sullyan’s orders to the stablemaster, Taran made his way back up to the Manor, enjoying the warmth of the sun. He passed a small group of men returning from guard duty, most of whom greeted him with smiles. Their captain, however, did not.
Taran nodded civilly as Parren stalked past. His greeting was ignored, as he knew it would be, but he refused to let the scarred man’s animosity bother him. Parren had no personal reason to dislike Taran, aside from the fact that he was friendly with Sullyan and Robin. Taran saw no need to antagonize the other man if he could help it.
He was still pondering the reasons for Parren’s hatred when he saw Robin and Bull approaching. They fell into step beside him and Robin threw a companionable arm about Taran’s shoulders.
“I hear you’ll be standing in for me over the next few days,” he said.
Through the physical contact Taran felt Robin’s ease, and he suddenly knew that the younger man had deliberately sought him out. “I’ll do my best to look after her,” he said.
The Major’s indigo eyes twinkled. “I know you will, Taran. There’s no one I’d rather trust her with, except Bulldog, of course. Shame the old goat’s past it.”
His teasing earned him a punch on the arm and a growl from Bull. “Impudent pup!”
Once again, Taran was impressed by the depth of maturity marriage had given Robin. The impetuousness of fifteen months ago was slowly being replaced by a growing sense of responsibility, but he still retained his youthfulness and easy good humor.
Robin had gone through all kinds of perdition over the last four years, starting with the terminal illness and subsequent death of his beloved sister, Jessy. His profound love for Sullyan and his sacrifices during a traumatic period in their lives had found their ultimate reward in her acceptance of him as life mate. This culminated in a stunning ceremony nine months ago, when the Hierarch of Andaryon had presided over a triple wedding at the stone circle just to the north of the Andaryan Citadel, Caer Vellet. Duke Marik and the Princess Idrimar, Robin and Sullyan, and Cal Tyler and Rienne Arlen had all made their pledges to each other under Pharikian’s benevolent gaze. Remembering the lavish celebrations that followed and the happiness of the three couples still brought pleasure swelling into Taran’s heart.
He smiled. A year ago he wouldn’t have traded places with Robin for the world, but the intensity of his experiences had molded and changed Robin for the better. He was now one of the most respected officers at the Manor, something not even General Blaine could dispute. Taran was proud to be associated with him.
Robin plainly sensed these thoughts, for he laughed. “Easy, Taran! You’re embarrassing me.”
Taran grinned back, unrepentant and now totally at ease with his assigned duty, just as Sullyan had no doubt intended.
*****
Brynne Sullyan had another visitor late that afternoon. Rienne Arlen, Sullyan’s personal healer, knocked on the door just as her friend was finishing off her packing. She had managed to catch Sullyan before she headed for the senior officers’ hall and her evening meal.
Following Sullyan’s gesture to enter, the dark haired healer came and sat on the bed. Rienne also exhibited the glowing contentment broug
ht by a happy marriage, and both she and Cal had settled comfortably into life at the Manor. However, it wasn’t her personal life that was the current focus of Rienne’s attention. She had something else on her mind and scrutinized Sullyan as she moved about the room.
Having carefully folded the final garment, Sullyan sat down. Rienne studied her face. “How are you feeling now, Brynne?”
Rienne was the only one of Sullyan’s friends who felt truly comfortable using her given name. Both Robin and Bull had known her as Sullyan for too long to change easily, although Robin did use her first name in moments of passion. When Bull wanted to be informal he merely shortened her last name to Sully as he had always done. But Rienne liked the sound of the unusual first name and used it unselfconsciously.
Sullyan considered her question before replying. “I feel fine, Rienne, honestly. I have had no more dizziness or sickness. In fact, I have given it no thought for days now.”
Despite her best efforts, Sullyan had not long been able to hide her recent indisposition from her healer friend. Intermittent sickness had been plaguing her, mainly at meal times, and Sullyan was never a hearty eater, and it hadn’t taken Rienne long to notice. Sullyan had fobbed her off for a while, but her most recent bout of dizziness, worse than all the rest, had alarmed her. She had been forced to confess it to Rienne, and was quite prepared to let the healer check her over. She didn’t want to be unwell during this trip to Loxton.
Rienne examined her carefully before holding out her hand in a way that brooked no refusal. Sullyan sighed but took the hand as she allowed the empathic healer access to her psyche. Rienne’s own vision lost focus as she concentrated on the aura of Sullyan’s mind. Finally satisfied, she released her hand.
“Yes, you’re right. You’re in very good health, as always. Whatever it was must have passed.”
Sullyan accepted Rienne’s findings philosophically. Artesans were never ill in the normal sense. Being able to control their own life force, they were rarely subject to the diseases suffered by the ungifted. Apart from the terrible consequences of Rykan’s brutal rape, the only time Sullyan ailed was when wounded in battle. Her ordeal at Rykan’s hands was well in the past now and her body had fully recovered. Yet this recent sickness concerned Rienne, despite Sullyan's apparent good health. Had Rykan’s abuse left an unknown legacy, one neither the healer nor Sullyan could detect?
Rienne stood to leave. “Take care of yourself in Port Loxton, won’t you? And be sure to let me know if these bouts of sickness return.”
Sullyan smiled at her friend, and Rienne knew she had dismissed the sickness from her mind. The healer left, only remembering when she reached the infirmary that she hadn’t told Sullyan of the decision she and Cal had recently made.
Chapter Three
Sullyan and Robin woke well before reveille, as they usually did when out of their normal routine. Sullyan stirred as her life mate took her into his arms and brushed his lips against the back of her neck. She responded sleepily, turning and wrapping her legs around his slim hips. Sharing his mounting passion for the first time in some days, she allowed herself to be swept away by his love.
The depth and intensity of her feelings caught her by surprise, as they often did. Their delight in each other hadn’t faded one bit since their wedding, even though Sullyan’s recent bouts of sickness, which she had hidden from Robin if not from Rienne, sometimes affected her desire for physical intimacy. Linking herself to Robin body, psyche, and soul, she allowed her emotions free rein.
As they rested close together afterward, Robin gazed into her eyes. “You will take care of yourself, won’t you, love? I know this is a pleasure trip, but we still haven’t discovered who created that weapon of Rykan’s. And you know there are people at court who bear us no love.”
She snuggled closer. “I will be on my guard, Robin. This trip will give me the chance to ask Elias about his own investigations. He is reluctant to commit his thoughts to parchment, and it is a wise precaution if there is a renegade Artesan out there somewhere. Taran and I will keep our eyes and ears open while we are in Loxton. You know what fairs are like. People love to gossip and we might hear something interesting. I also want to keep a close eye on Elias’s advisors, to see if any of them appear uncomfortable while Artesans are among them.”
She gave her life mate a kiss and slid from the bed, throwing on one of Robin’s spare shirts which she often used as a nightshirt. As she freed the tumbled masses of her hair, she sensed the pang of concern that rose in Robin’s breast. They had not been apart since their marriage nine months ago, and although last year’s terrors were well behind them, she knew he couldn’t quite forget the sick, hopeless fear of losing her.
She smiled over her shoulder. “It had to happen sometime, Robin. You have your own responsibilities now, and I have mine. We had to expect this when we accepted promotion. We are fortunate still to be at the same garrison now we are wed, let alone in the same company. It was hard work getting Elias to agree to that, and we must not give him reason to regret it.
“Do not fret, love, I will be quite safe. I am fit and healthy, and Taran is very nearly as skilled with the sword as you are.”
Since joining the Manor officially, both Taran and Cal trained regularly with Falkerk, the Manor’s weaponsmaster. Falkerk had been trained by Elias’s legendary swordmaster, Master Ardoch, who was reputedly the best in the land. Taran had become a very capable swordsman and Cal, who had found out almost by accident that he was skilled with a crossbow, was now deemed second only to Robin. Not even Falkerk could out-shoot the Major.
Thoughts of Cal prompted Sullyan to ask, “Is Cal going to Andaryon with you?”
“I could hardly leave him behind,” said Robin. “He’s become a valued member of the company. Dexter is very impressed with him, and he’s doing so well that I think we might put him forward for promotion soon. He’d make a good captain one day.”
“That should please him. Rienne would be very proud.” Sullyan knew how much soul-searching Cal had done before deciding to take the King’s Oath. Rienne had been unsure about it, but Sullyan appreciated Cal’s motive. The need to belong was a desire she understood.
Robin nodded and arose. He and Bull were leaving after breakfast. As he moved about the room, Sullyan admired his slim and muscular form. Sometimes, she still found it hard to believe she was married to this remarkably handsome young man.
Once they finished dressing, they collected their packs and made their way to the senior officers’ hall. Bull, Cal, Rienne, and Taran were already there, along with General Blaine and Colonel Vassa. Sullyan and Robin murmured greetings as they accepted fellan from Bull and food from Tad. Although no longer a kitchen boy, Tad still served them. He did whatever he could to be close to Robin.
With breakfast over, the four of them took their leave. They made their way to the horse lines, where Solet and his lads had their mounts ready. Sullyan’s company was assembled and waiting, needing only Robin to lead them.
He and Bull fastened their packs and mounted. Robin leaned down from Torka’s back to clasp hands with Sullyan before leading his troop on their way. Taran mounted his own stallion, a look of surprise crossing his face when Sullyan vaulted into young Darius’s saddle instead of mounting Drum. She secured Drum’s reins to the pommel of his own saddle and the huge black stud followed as she led the way out of the horse lines.
They skirted the side of the Manor house and rode along the gravel drive. As they approached the main gate, they saw it was open. The sentry saluted Sullyan smartly and grinned at Taran as they passed.
“Take care, Colonel. Look after yourself, Taran.”
“Thanks, Wil,” called Taran, giving the sentry a wave as he followed Sullyan at a canter down the road.
The morning grew warmer by the hour, the sun unchallenged in a vivid blue sky. As they rode farther from the Manor, Taran began to look about with interest. Sullyan knew he had never been to Albia’s capital city, nor traveled much through the
north of Loxton Province. He had wandered the southern parts frequently with his father, but had hardly ever been north of Hyecombe before coming to the Manor.
Sullyan kept a northwesterly heading through open, gently rolling terrain. They skirted villages and towns, Sullyan telling Taran their names as they passed each one. The sun was high overhead and they were both ready to rest by the time they came to the ford of a wide stream. After splashing across, Sullyan guided them off the road before drawing rein on a grassy bank beside a dark, swirling pool.
She slid from Darius’s back, hooking the reins loosely over the pommel. Drum, who had followed closely behind them with no command from Sullyan, shouldered the mahogany colt aside and waded into the stream to drink. Darius laid back his ears but made no other protest. Taran’s mount, the biddable Thunder, waited patiently until both horses had drunk their fill before coming forward to slake his own thirst.
Sullyan took the pack of supplies from Taran’s saddle and sat cross-legged on the grass. “Just loop the reins over the pommel, Taran,” she said, seeing that he wasn’t sure how far to trust his horse. “Thunder will not stray.”
He did so and left the horses to please themselves. He and Sullyan relaxed on the short grass, eating a little cheese and fruit which they washed down with clear stream water.
*****
Taran lounged on one elbow, covertly watching Sullyan. As this was a pleasure trip, she bore no rank insignia and had left her tawny hair partially loose. Her shirt was open at the neck, showing the sparkling fire opal at her throat, and her sleeves were rolled up, allowing the sun to tan her arms. The long scar down her left forearm, inflicted by the Andaryan Commander Vanyr, had faded to a pale line, but the skin of her left hand, damaged in the Firefield during her duel with Rykan, was much darker than the right. It was a constant reminder of how close she had come to death.