by Anne Bishop
“Like you.”
Nadia got up, rummaged through the cupboards, then returned to the table with a bottle of brandy and two glasses. She filled the glasses and set one beside Glorianna’s hand. Then she drained half her glass before sitting down again.
“I have no marriage lines,” Nadia said. “I wanted them, but Peter said it was enough that we were married in our hearts, and I loved him enough to be content with that. Even when I became pregnant with you, he still refused to consider a formal marriage. But that’s when he told me one of the wizards’ secrets.
“It was, and is, taboo for a wizard to have carnal relations with a Landscaper, and if the Wizards’ Council had found out he’d been with me and I carried a child that mingled the bloodlines of wizard and Landscaper, at best they would have punished him. At worst, they would have sealed both of us in a dark landscape.
“He loved you, Glorianna, but he was also terrified of you.”
Glorianna licked her lips, which felt painfully dry. “If the wizards are the descendants of the Dark Guides and the Landscapers are the descendants of the Guides of the Heart…”
“You are the mingling of the Dark and the Light, and you are the only known Landscaper in our time who can alter landscapes. Truly alter them. I think the kind of Landscaper you are is the reason for the taboo. The wizards didn’t want to give Dark power back to the Light—because I think that mingling is the only kind of power that can defeat the Eater of the World.”
Glorianna gulped some brandy. “I can’t do this alone. You think I can go up against the Eater of the World?”
“I don’t know. Can you?”
The question froze her blood. But another thought unfurled. “Sebastian,” she whispered.
“Yes,” Nadia agreed. “Sebastian. Your uncle Koltak’s scandal. Living testament that wizards and the succubi can mate and have offspring. Dark power mating with dark power.”
“Which means he might have all the power of a wizard as well as the power of an incubus.”
“The seed resides in him, but he’s never shown any ability for wizards’ magic. If he had, I imagine the council would have taken him in and trained him.”
“But Koltak’s not pure wizard.”
Nadia nodded. “Koltak and Peter didn’t come from Wizard City. I suspect the human marriages in that family line are the reason Koltak never achieved the power he craved. Not if it’s the Wizards’ Council and their handpicked protégés who are mating with those females to keep some bloodlines of the Dark Guides pure.”
“What about Sebastian? Is there any human in him at all?”
“A little.” Nadia paused, then sighed. “He is human in his heart, Glorianna, even if he’s no longer willing to acknowledge it.”
Relief shuddered through her. It would break her heart to have Sebastian as an enemy.
“You have to leave, daughter. If the wizards manage to find you and destroy you, we have no hope of defeating the Eater of the World. You have to hide until you’re ready to fight.”
“I’ll go if you come with me.”
Nadia shook her head. “I can’t abandon the landscapes in my care. Not now.”
“Mother—”
Nadia rested her hand over Glorianna’s. “We are not the whole world. Maybe there are other Landscapers in faraway lands, even if they’re known by a different name. Ephemera didn’t shatter as much in those faraway places as it did here where the battle was fought, Dark against Light. We are not the whole world. If that were not so, you and Lee would not have discovered a southern land where koffea beans grow.”
“Merchant ships have been bringing koffea beans into ports of call for many years,” Glorianna said.
“And yet those beans were unknown in many landscapes here. Our world is very large, and it is very small. We see only what our hearts can hold, whether we sail the seas to distant lands or live out the whole of our lives in the village where we were born. But the people here live on the bones of the battleground, and the Landscapers who care for this part of Ephemera may be the only ones who know this was a battleground—and they’re the only ones who can see with their own eyes that this will be a battleground again.”
“So if we win, most of Ephemera will never know. And if we lose…”
“The Eater of the World will be able to unleash the horrors It created and alter the world into a dark hunting ground.” Nadia leaned back in her chair and dropped her hands to her lap. “Despair made the deserts.”
“And hope shaped the oasis. I know the saying.”
“You’re our oasis, Glorianna. I’ll look after myself. You look after Ephemera.”
Unbearably weary, Glorianna nodded and pushed her chair back. “I’ll go.”
“May the Guardians of Light go with you, daughter.”
After Nadia unlocked the kitchen door, Glorianna wrapped her arms around her mother and held on tight.
“I’ll see you again,” she whispered.
“You’re always in my heart,” Nadia whispered back. “You and Lee…and Sebastian.”
Just tired, Glorianna told herself as she hurried along the familiar garden paths, blinking back tears. Just tired. And afraid. So very afraid.
Which was why she doubled back to a particular part of Nadia’s gardens and took a small statue of a sitting woman. She, Lee, and Sebastian had worked at odd jobs an entire summer in order to earn the money to buy the statue for Nadia’s birthday. Her mother cherished it because of that. And because it was cherished, it was a powerful anchor to this place.
Nadia wouldn’t approve of her taking on the added burden. Most Landscapers held a handful of landscapes. She held thrice that many. And she was about to add a dozen more. Because once she altered the landscapes and shifted the borders and boundaries, she would make all the landscapes in Nadia’s garden a single landscape within her own. Until Lee could establish more bridges between Nadia’s landscapes and hers, it would isolate the people living in those places from the rest of Ephemera.
But it would keep her mother safe.
Chapter Twelve
Sebastian and Lynnea crossed over the bridge that connected Sanctuary to Nadia’s home landscape and stepped into a clearing filled with sunlight.
Sebastian threw an arm up over his eyes and blinked away the tears caused by the unexpected brightness.
“Daylight,” he muttered, lowering his arm a little so he could squint at the land around them.
“Yes,” Lynnea said, looking up at the sky. “It’s a lovely day, even if it is a bit overcast.”
Overcast? This wasn’t bright?
With his face still safely hidden by his arm, he grimaced at the prim tone in her voice. She’d been sounding like that since they woke up—as if they’d slept on opposite sides of the bed instead of being twined around each other.
And did she appreciate the fact that he had untwined himself instead of rolling that little bit necessary to bring her under him and feed the hunger she stirred in him? No, apparently she did not.
And the way she’d pulled his underwear out of the pack, with thumb and forefinger, as if it were encrusted with who knew what instead of being clean—and then calling it his “unmentionables.” When he pointed out it was called underwear, she told him it wasn’t made out of enough material to mention.
He’d never had any complaints. In fact, most women liked that next-to-nothing he wore under his pants.
And she wouldn’t have said anything either if you’d made love to her last night instead of acting like some prissy prig human. “I can’t,” you said. As if being a virgin meant the country girl couldn’t figure out what was making that lump in your pants. And you let her curl up on her side of the bed without explaining that it wasn’t your body that was having trouble where she was concerned. Not that you’re ever going to explain that—for both your sakes.
She’d gotten back at him, even if she didn’t know it. After she’d fallen asleep and he’d cuddled up against her, her dreams had shifted to a s
weet erotica that didn’t go nearly far enough to satisfy the hunger in him—and left him panting with the effort to remain a passive participant instead of sliding deeper into the dream, as he’d done with so many other women, and taking her to the limits of his experience rather than remaining confined by the limits of hers.
But he hadn’t done that. Being so close to her physically, he couldn’t resist the lure of her dreams, but he’d held himself at the edge. Because she was innocent. Because she belonged in a landscape that saw the sun rise and set.
Because he was scared to death that if he had her once he wouldn’t be able to let her go.
“Are you still mad at me?” he asked, lowering his arm the rest of the way now that he could squint at the light without feeling like his eyeballs would cook.
“I’m not mad at you.”
The words said one thing; the tone of voice said something else. Definitely still mad at him. And it was funny, in a tear-your-hair-out kind of way. For all his experience with women, he’d never had to deal with moods. When the woman got moody, it was time to leave and become someone else’s fantasy lover.
But human men lived with female moods day after day, month after month, year after year.
They were out of their minds.
And he envied every one of them.
He looked around the clearing. In Sanctuary, the bridge that crossed over to this landscape was a simple wooden bridge that spanned a piece of a water garden. Lee had called it a one-way stationary bridge, which he hadn’t understood at the time. Now he did.
In this landscape, the bridge was just the space between two large stones set in the middle of the clearing—a space wide enough for a handcart but nothing bigger. And on this side, it was a resonating bridge.
Since he’d never heard of a bridge being stationary on one side and resonating on the other, he wondered if this was another unique aspect of Lee’s gift.
“Lee said to take the right-hand path when it forks,” Sebastian said, taking Lynnea’s stiff hand and leading her toward the edge of the clearing. “That will take us to Aunt Nadia’s house. She’ll be up by now.” He hoped.
The path out of the clearing was plain to see, but he wasn’t sure he would have found the fork if it hadn’t been for the sign nailed to a tree—a plain piece of wood with a bird etched into it.
“Don’t you ever visit your auntie?” Lynnea asked, censure now added to that prim tone.
“Three or four times a year,” Sebastian replied, feeling testy as they followed the barely visible path. “But I’ve never come here from that particular bridge.”
They walked in silence until the path ended at a break in the stone wall that separated the woodland from Nadia’s lawn and gardens. Releasing Lynnea’s hand, Sebastian stepped over the knee-high stones, then watched to make sure she didn’t stumble when she stepped through the break.
“Did something damage the wall?” Lynnea asked, sounding worried.
“Not as far as I know,” Sebastian replied, taking her hand again as he walked toward the house. “It’s been like that for as long as I can remember.”
“And you never offered to fix it for her? She’s your auntie.”
Another offense laid at his feet—as if he knew anything about fixing walls. Maybe Aunt Nadia knew how to deal with a woman in a snit. After all, she had a daughter, and, being older and sensible, she’d understand that by not becoming Lynnea’s lover, he was just doing what was right for once in his life.
The kitchen’s wood door was open to let in the fresh summer air. So were the windows. It looked dark inside the house compared to the daylight, but through the screen door, he thought he saw two people standing close together.
And something about the way they were standing…
“Hey-a!” he called. “Aunt Nadia!”
The figures jumped apart. One disappeared into another part of the house.
Sebastian strode up to the kitchen’s screen door and grabbed the handle just as Nadia hurried up to the door from the other side.
“Oh,” she said, looking—and sounding—flustered. “Sebastian. What a pleasant surprise.”
A surprise, anyway.
“You going to let me in?” Sebastian asked.
“Oh. Yes. Of course.”
As she unlatched the screen door and pushed it open, he kept his eyes on her face. But damn it all, he was an incubus, and she was wearing a summer dress, and it wasn’t his fault her nipples were acting perky enough to make little bumps in the thin material—and they were both going to get through this visit by pretending he didn’t know she wasn’t wearing anything under that dress.
“This is Lynnea,” Sebastian said, hauling his little rabbit into the kitchen. Maybe Lynnea, being another woman, could suggest that Nadia put a coat on over that dress.
“I’m pleased to meet you,” Nadia said.
“It’s early to be dropping in so sudden-like…” Lynnea stammered.
“Nonsense. I was just starting breakfast. Sit down. Be at home.”
“Can I help?”
“You could—”
A small blue-and-white bird hit the screen door between the kitchen and the adjoining room and started scolding.
“—entertain Sparky,” Nadia finished, walking over to that door. “Sebastian, make sure that outside door is closed properly.”
“You could always leave him there,” Sebastian said as he made sure the kitchen’s screen door was secured.
“He’ll just keep scolding if I do that, and then he’ll get the rest of them started and we’ll have to shout to hear one another.”
“Come on,” Sebastian said, cupping Lynnea’s elbow in his hand. “It’s safer sitting down.”
“What? Why?” Lynnea kept her eyes on the inside screen door while Sebastian guided her to a chair at the kitchen table.
Dropping into another chair, he watched Nadia open the door just enough to offer a hand for the bird to perch on. The scolding changed to excited chatter.
Did the chatterhead just stay on Nadia’s finger and look cute? Of course not. The moment the bird spotted him, Sparky zipped across the kitchen to land on top of Sebastian’s head.
“Pretty boy,” Sparky said, digging his sharp little nails into Sebastian’s scalp as he walked back and forth. Then he stopped and made kissy noises.
Sebastian raised his hand slowly, hoping the bird would take the hint and hop on his finger. He liked Sparky. He really did. But he liked the little chatterhead better when he could see what the bird was up to.
But the moment Sparky saw the hand, he began beating Sebastian’s head with his wings and scolding in a volume that made all the humans wince.
“Fine,” Sebastian grumbled, lowering his hand. “Have it your way.”
The scolding stopped; the wings were folded back. Sparky marched to the top of Sebastian’s forehead, leaned over, and said, “Behave.”
“Oh,” Lynnea said. “He’s adorable. Do you think he’d come to me?” She held up a hand.
With an extra dig of his nails that Sebastian knew was deliberate, Sparky flew over to Lynnea to be properly admired. While woman and bird exchanged “Pretty birds,” Sebastian started to ease out of his chair, intending to give Nadia a hand with breakfast.
Then Sparky said, “Kismrz.”
Settling back in his chair, Sebastian said, “Sparky is a keet. The species originally came from a distant landscape. Isn’t that right, Aunt Nadia?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Nadia replied as she laid strips of bacon into a skillet.
“They’re bright little birds,” Sebastian continued. “And they can talk. Some things they learn because a person teaches them. And sometimes they hear something often enough that they just pick it up. Thing is, if the words aren’t enunciated clearly, the bird might not pick up all the sounds.”
Lynnea gave Sparky a delighted smile. “Do you think he was trying to say something?”
Nadia, who was busy pouring egg batter into another skillet,
didn’t answer.
Oh, yeah, Sebastian thought, watching his aunt. I think he was trying to say something. What I want to know is why Sparky would hear “kiss me” often enough to have learned it.
As if in answer, someone tapped on the screen door—and Nadia dropped the fork she was using to turn the bacon.
“Jeb,” Nadia said as she picked up the dirty fork. “Come in. You’re just in time for breakfast.” She put the fork in the sink, got a clean one out of the drawer, then turned back to her cooking.
Sebastian swiveled in his chair as the screen door opened, noticing how Jeb pulled the door open just enough to slip inside and paused to make sure it was properly latched. A frequent visitor, then. One who didn’t need to be told that some of Nadia’s birds might be loose in the house.
“Hey-a,” Jeb said as he removed his cap and put it on a peg next to the door.
“Hey-a,” Sebastian replied.
“Ah…Jeb, this is my nephew, Sebastian, and his friend Lynnea,” Nadia said.
Sebastian gave Jeb a smile that was brilliant and insincere. “You’re getting a lot of company for breakfast this morning,” he said, glancing at his aunt. He didn’t think the heat from the stove was the reason her face was flushed.
“Jeb is a neighbor,” Nadia said, taking plates and mugs out of the cupboards.
Taking the plates and mugs from her, Jeb set the table. “I help Nadia with some chores from time to time. I’m a woodworker by trade, so I’m handy with my hands.”
“I’m sure you are,” Sebastian said pleasantly. And wasn’t it interesting that this neighbor had been in such a hurry to help out with some chores that he hadn’t taken the time to button his shirt properly.
Nadia thumped a rack of toast on the table, which startled Sparky into another scold.
“Feed him some toast,” Nadia snapped. “Maybe that will keep him quiet.”
Taking the hint, Sebastian helped himself to a piece of toast, breaking off a corner for Lynnea to feed to Sparky, while Jeb poured koffee for all of them and Nadia dished out the bacon and eggs.
He’d managed to put two women in a snit before breakfast. Was that some kind of record?