by Darcy Sweet
As Askel opened one of the great door s Hatha grabbed my arm and pulled me back. “We must remain calm,” she whispered in my ear.
“Must we?” I questioned with a slight smile.
“Do not joke Mistress. These are powerful people with powerful fears. We need them. You need them. There is more at stake here than your pride.”
“My pride is all I have Hatha.” My answer was heavy with regret not anger, the sort of bone deep sorrow borne at the realization of the few petty truths that remained mine alone. I tugged free of her arm, pulled back my shoulders and entered the Council Chambers.
Before me, at a long table on a raised platform were the eight members of the Sarran Council. Sleeves bare they sat facing me their arms covered in the magic of their Sarran tattoos. As I looked at each Council member somehow I knew what they represented, I could read the power of each tattoo. Not in words, in a basic more primal way. The same way I knew the table was flat, the rocks were sharp. If I had been asked to explain how I would have lacked the words. I knew because I knew, it was as simple, as instinctive as that.
The easy knowledge of their markings scared and thrilled me.
Four men, Four women sat before me. Off center to the left was Lady Vere, who despite her placement was quite obviously the head of the Council. She looked to Hatha who stood just behind and to my left, not to me and said, “Bring her forward.”
I spread my legs slightly and planted my feet. I was no pawn to be shifted at her command. I would not go. Hatha placed a gentle hand at the small of my back and pushed, but I did not shift. I heard her long suffering sigh; she knew I was not going to make this easy.
I felt a stab of affection at the sound. She knew me so well, better than my own blood.
I fixed on Lady Vere, waiting for her to meet my gaze. Hatha murmured indistinct words of urging at my side that I ignored. I did not shift or fidget. I did not even tilt my head; I focused on Lady Vere setting a stare waiting for her to break.
She, I suspected was as stubborn as I. Lady Vere fixed her determined patient gaze upon Hatha and waited.
Time ticked on. I heard Hatha’s breath at my ear. The sound of shuffling and murmured chatter from the Council table. Behind me footsteps. Through it all we remained—three points of a stubborn triangle—Hatha, Lady Vere and me.
The Lady broke first, but not because of me.
A laugh. A husky brittle laugh broke her gaze and made her eyes flicker to mine and then towards the sound. From the darkness at the side of the Chamber came an old woman.
“This one,” she said, pointing a gnarled cane at me, “this one is interesting.”
“Mother,” Lady Vere sighed the word, dipping her head in a low bow. The other members of the Council followed, murmuring and bowing almost as one.
“We have not seen you for some time Mother,” Lady Vere said in a low and deliberate tone.
“There has been nothing of interest to see,” the old woman snapped waving her cane at the raised table of The Council. She turned to me, in a surprisingly spry spin and said, “You. You though, I find interesting.”
“She is dangerous Mother, unstable…” a male member of The Council stood to speak so short statured his chest barely cleared the table as he did.
“You seek too much stability Haakon. The world cannot be contained. It will never be as safe as you hope.”
The short man shook his head, the plait of his long red gold beard hitting the tabletop as he did. “With respect Mother it is the stability you mock that has kept the Vere safe all these years.”
“There is safe and there is stagnant,” a young man to the left of Haakon retorted, “we are festering in the cocoon of your safety Haakon. Suffocating.”
“And what would you have us do Ragnar? Risk all for this?” He pointed at me, spittle flying from his red face as he yelled. “The weakness of The Vessel is what brought us down in the first place and you wish us to trust this one?”
“This one is all we have,” said the slight blond woman seated beside Ragnar. Her voice was soft but not without power. It danced across my skin in a fluid caress.
“This one,” spat Haakon, “Is nothing but the whore of the Masters.”
“I have a name,” I interrupted, proud that my voice did not shake with the anger that coursed in my veins. They turned as one, shocked momentarily into silence by my voice.
“Yes. We know,” said the one called Ragnor, “You are Talia of Hawthorne Shire, Chosen of the Dark Prince of Pleasure, but what are you to us?” There was no malice in the tone, but genuine interest. Curiosity. He was not in the school who wished me gone. I felt his desire to use me. He tilted his head and looked intently at me, honey blond hair falling in a curtain across half his face as he did. The soft spoken woman at his side reached over and tucked the hair behind his ear with the oft practiced ease of a lover.
“What do you wish me to be Ragnor?”
He met my eyes, smiled and shook his head.
An elderly woman at the far end of the table sneered and raised a palm shaking with barely held fury. “I know what he wishes from you...”
“Audhild,” Lady Vere interrupted.
But Audhild was not so easily silence. “No! I will not be silenced my Lady. Ragnor speaks his mind. Why should I not?”
I turned my shoulders to Audhild, preparing myself for the inevitable onslaught. She was not the first to rage at me, she would not be the last. I braced my shoulders and jutted my chin in defiance as she pointed at me with a long spell casted finger, ringed with an intricate tattoo. “Ragnor wants your power. He wants nothing but the power of The Vessel and he does not care who he risks for it.”
Another Council member rose from his chair in Ragnor’s defense. “Rubbish! Audhild you old fool! Ragnor wants naught for himself. He wants The Vessel to take her place as it has been. To bring back the balance. Nothing more.”
Audhild turned on him, giving no ground. “Better an old fool than a naïve whelp Sjurd. You follow Ragnor to your doom. I will not let you take us all with you.”
“SILENCE!” Lady Vere’s voice boomed impossibly loud, echoing off the chamber walls. Her hands clasped in a steeple at her chest. Magic bounced from her in a wave of heat. She unclasped her hands and continued calmly, “The Council will be seated. The Council will be silent.” When order was restored she pointed at me, “You, Mistress Vessel, come forward.”
I raised an eyebrow but kept my feet planted.
She sighed, sounding not unlike Hatha, “Please. Please Talia, come forward to address The Council.”
I hesitated, out of little more than petty spite before I stepped forward to stand directly in front of Lady Vere. Behind me I heard the throaty chuckle of the old woman they called Mother.
“Do you wish to question me or should I speak, my Lady?”
“Speak freely your peace Mistress Vessel and then we shall question you.”
I nodded and swallowed, my throat tight. I spoke slowly the words Hatha had taught me, “I am Talia of Hawthorne Shire. I am The Vessel of Sarran Vere. I ask of you shelter and knowledge.”
Ragnor was the first to speak, “My lady she is Coven born, shelter and knowledge cannot be denied.”
“Coven born?” the one called Audhild hissed from the end of the table, “Who is her Sire? She has no heritage here. She has no rights.”
“No heritage?” Sjurd, the fiery young man who had spoken in support of Ragnor gave a short laugh along with his question. “How can you speak such rubbish? She is The Vessel, therefore she is Coven born. There is no question.”
“There are always questions,” Haakon said, “Questions of loyalty come to mind foremost.”
I faced Haakon. “Loyalty?”
“Yes, to whom are you loyal? It is a simple question Mistress Vessel. You ask us to reveal our knowledge, to give you the secrets of spells of great power. How do we not know you will not share it with our enemies?”
Anger spiked in my veins. “I am here am I not? I ca
me freely, at great peril and ….”
“You also fed the Dark Masters freely,” Haakon fired back. “You gave of your blood and body to Roth like a bitch in heat. You could not even wait to be alone. You spread your legs for him before all who could see.”
The truth of his retort stung. How did he know? My face flushed red with shame and anger; I looked back at Hatha who sent me a hurt shake of her head. Of course it was not her. I regretted that I questioned for even a moment.
“Yes I fed Roth. I could still be feeding him now, in the luxury of the Night Palace but I am here. Here with you. Does that mean nothing?”
“It means nothing until you are proven loyal.”
“How can I do that?” I asked.
Audhild’s answer was quick. “Tether her,” she said, and gasps sounded down the table.
“Tether?” That is your answer?” Ragnor asked with obvious disbelief.
“No!” an old but strong voice sounded behind me, so loud my ears rang with its heavy bass. “She will not be tethered she will be taught.”
“Mother, surely you do not mean to overrule The Council?” Haakon asked in a tone syrup sweet with respectful fury.
She did not rise to Haakon’s bait. “Never would I do such a thing Haakon.” She addressed the entire council, “Vote now. Talia of Hawthorne Shire. I say Talia of Hawthorne Shire, Vessel of Sarran Vere will be taught in the ways of the Sarran. Who says Aye? Who says Nay?”
A chorus of ayes and nays sounded, equally strong. Four in favor, four against. The Council split equally between Haakon and Ragnor. I noted with interest that the Lady Vere voted in favor of the Mother’s motion. She wanted me taught, that was a surprise.
“What is the vote Lady Vere?” the old crone asked.
“It is tied Mother. A hung vote.”
“Which means a Nay in the laws of The Coven,” Haakon crowed triumphantly.
“Unless I should vote to break the tie.”
“What?” Haakon swung his head to stare at the Mother, his plaited beard flicking like a whip as he did.
“You heard me Haakon. I am Mother of the Coven. I vote on Council matters as I so choose. I choose now to vote in favor of teaching The Vessel.”
Haakon jerked to his feet, the high back of his chair falling with a sharp bang on the stone platform.
“Do you challenge me?” Mother asked, raising a tattooed palm to face him as she did. Her power buzzed through the room. I felt it like the swarm of an angry hive. A ready hive. My skin hummed with the authority of her anger.
It was respect or fear that made Haakon back down. Or perhaps a combination of the two. “Never Mother. Never would I challenge your rule.” he said, his face pale as he looked upon her outstretched palm.
“I thought not. The Council is dismissed.” She turned to face me, waving her cane at my face. “You I will see tomorrow. At Mother’s hour you will come for your first lesson.”
I nodded, turned and followed Hatha from the chambers. I had gotten what I wanted, all that I asked. Why then, was I so worried?
* * * *
I tried to apologize to Hatha for my silent accusation when we returned to our chambers. She dismissed me, more in weariness than harbored animosity I realized as she raised a hand and murmured, “All is good Mistress. Now is the time for rest not talk. You will need all your wits for the Mother tomorrow. Sleep.”
I pulled on a night rail over my still painted skin, too drained to even wipe myself down before sleep. The cot was small and the thin mattress hard, but it felt like a cloud to my weary bones.
I turned on my side and raised my head on my elbow to look over at Hatha. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness I could see her laying flat with her hands tucked under her head looking up at the ceiling. “Was it what you expected Hatha?” I asked.
She laughed. A soft sound of resignation rather than joy. “It was what it was Mistress. I have come to expect nothing else.”
“Thank you Hatha. For all you have done. For all you have risked. Thank you.”
“It is my duty Mistress. I am forever your servant.”
The words cut. I knew she did not mean them too. Which was somehow worse. If she were lashing out at me I could at least have known that she had some passionate feeling to me. Something more than duty.
Did anyone care for just me? I hated the pathetic thought even as I sank into the indulgent lonely misery.
Duty. Obligation. Tool. These were my connections. Nothing more. Wanted or hated for what I could do. Never for just me. Vessel…the perfect description for me. A receptacle for the needs of others.
Roth wanted my power. Hatha wanted to serve the power. The Council wanted to destroy or harness the power. With an entourage of the power hungry why then did I feel so damn powerless?
One remained apart; Nadar.
What did he want? That was still not clear. I suspected it was to assuage the grief for his mother that still beat beneath his skin. The power of loss. Was that what drew me to him? Him to me?
As I succumbed to sleep, eyes no longer able to watch the play of darkness and light on the ceiling I thought of him.
Nadar.
It should have been no surprise that he entered my dreams. He had been my last thought. He seemed however, surprised to see me. I did not want his surprise. I wanted his desire. His love. In dream I slipped into the truth I ferociously shielded in daylight. He was in the room where I first saw him, framed by the moonlight from the window he was gazing out. Silver hair, soft glowing in halo, but he was no angel. He was a dark angel. My dark angel? How I wanted it to be so.
“Talia,” he whispered, my name a sigh that fluttered my heart.
I pressed a finger to my lips to silence him. I did not wish to hear his explanations, his excuses. This was my dream, my fantasy.
He stood. I sighed at the sight of his strong broad frame. I wanted that weight on me. Over me, pushing me down, holding me still as he thrust inside.
“This is a dream,” he said, as he came forward to stand before me. I nodded.
“You dream of me?” He inclined his head and curled his full lips in a bemused half smile.
I nodded again. Not trusting my voice. Not wanting to break the magic of the moment.
He brought forward a hand and brushed back my hair. Our skin connected with a crackle of heat, an ember sparked.
“You dream of me, I search for you. Where are you?”
I shook my head, and stepped back.
He reached out for me, fingers outstretched but not making contact. “No—! No Talia, please don’t go. I won’t ask. I won’t ask again.”
I took his hand between my palms, clasping his fingers tight between my hands. I wanted a solid connection but I could not get the depth of feeling. I hungered for more. The touch—no matter how hard I squeezed—felt thin somehow. Slight and insubstantial.
“I’ve missed you,” his murmured words floating through my hair.
I wanted to answer. Tell him that I had missed him too but the words tangled in my chest and I could not draw them forth, just as I could not feel the solid warmth of his touch.
“Talia, I hardly know you.” He stepped back, looked down at our clasped hands and then back up at my face. His silver rimmed eyes locked on mine. “No. I don’t know you, but I want to. I need to. I need to know you. Will you let me, please?”
He spoke the truth. I felt it with each syllable. I opened my mouth to tell him I understood and the room began to fade. The edges first, dissolving into a spray of colored pin lights.
I stepped into him, pushing up on my toes. Our mouths met. Lips on lips, tongues entangled, a spark of heat. Melting like wax I succumbed to the teasing pleasure. Not enough. Not enough. I hungered for more. Greedy I grabbed at him, taking more and more.
He murmured against my lips, “Come back to me. Find me again. It’s too much for you now. Later. When you’re stronger. Rest now, rest now my beautiful and return again.”
I could no longer feel him. I pressed
harder, pushed to find the feeling. The more I tried the more the feeling dissolved. The sparkle of lights erased the room, closing in quickly until Nadar was gone. Blackness curtained down until I was left with just the image of his moonlight halo. My dark angel.
I thought of the dream as I awoke to Hatha shaking my shoulders. I sat up, and rubbing the last vestiges of sleep from my eyes, I opened my mouth to tell her about Nadar’s nighttime visit but after one stuttered syllable I stopped.
“Mistress?” she questioned softly, her hands pulling me up to sit and stripping me of my night rail.
I lifted my buttocks and raised my arms to help her slip the material off my body. “It is nothing,” I lied. “Nothing at all.”
“You’re tired,” she said. She stood between my legs. I looked up at her. “Yes, I am,” I said, this time speaking honestly. I was so weary I felt numb. Old. Fragile.
I scraped a hand across my face. I was not looking forward to seeing the Mother in this state. I wanted to sink back down on the bed, pull up the covers and hide from the world.
“Let me help,” Hatha said. She’d come down on her knees, her hands rested on my thighs.
I shook my head, “Only sleep will help, Hatha.”
She smiled up at me. With her hair loose about her shoulders and her tattooed arms bare she seemed so young. Almost like the daughter of the angry woman in black who had first met me in the Night Palace. I laughed.
“What makes you laugh Mistress?”
“You Hatha.”
She frowned and I laughed again. “Do not take offence Hatha. I laugh because I’m thinking back to when I first saw you all starched in black and scowling. Never then did I think I would see you so pretty nestled between my thighs.”