Faith. Hecate’s last word kept coming back and hitting him in the gut. Somehow, he knew the pangs were like the grains of sand dropping in a funnel-glass. He must decide one way or the other soon.
Without actually telling them about Hecate’s proposal, it took time to persuade Wren and Meliandri to try to free Sarai. They simply thought him confused from his ordeal with the poison. He finally convinced them that he’d dream traveled and that in his flight he’d uncovered knowledge that must be shared—with everyone.
They went to try again and check on any developments in Sarai’s judgment. From their expressions, he knew they felt success was doubtful. He learned the King had jailed Laramis with her. Wren said it had to do with the paladin being an accomplice to Sarai’s crimes. It made no sense.
He couldn’t decide on Hecate’s proposal alone. It affected more than himself. If the goddess could be trusted they all would have peace. He knew it was desperate to even consider it, but all the killing and nearly being killed had made him eager to end the ordeal.
What good was the Garmtur anyway? All it ever did was make him miserable. It tore his life apart. The ultimate power came with an ultimate onus. Everyone who knew you possessed the Garmtur either wanted to steal it, kill you, or somehow get you to work for them.
Ker-plunk!
The rustling of clothing made him look up. A figure in woman’s clothing made its way along the stream toward his partition. When he saw silvery hair and glowing violet eyes, his heart leaped that it might be Sarai. As the female neared he realized it wasn’t her.
The lady moved with a stately grace as if she were at the head of a parade even though she walked alone. She had Sarai’s angular features, the edges softened and rounded by time. She looked big in the truest sense of the word, filling the cave with her matronly presence. Her shiny blue robes glowed in the torchlight, embossed with an intricate filigree of jewels. Gold inlays of dragons chased platinum griffins around her hems, cuffs, and neckline.
Long ago, Bannor had learned to disdain royalty. They used heralds and lavish clothing to distinguish themselves above others because in truth they were often cut from cloth poorer than that of the folk they lorded over.
This woman, though, would have been regal dressed in a sack and caked with dirt. She could be only one person, and it put a dread in him worse than any demon or avatar.
Sarai’s mother.
Body aching, he managed to drop himself off the cot to his knees and bow. The stone felt hard and painful under his legs. He couldn’t imagine worse timing. The problems with Hecate and all else were a mental whirlwind that stole his focus. What would he say? He probably looked like a carcass three days after the kill. He felt the stubble on his cheeks and saw the slovenly state of his clothes.
She spoke in a rich voice that sounded like Sarai’s except for its deeper timbre. “We laud your sense of etiquette, Goodman Bannor. We are, however, in a cave.” He heard a tinge of disgust in her tone. “There is little need for formality.” The lady made a pointing gesture and something touched his back. A huge warm hand seemed to gently wrap its fingers around him. The force lifted him and set him on the cot. “Aside from that, you look in ill health to be bowing and scraping.”
What should he say? He didn’t even know the proper form of address. No way did he want to offend her.
Keep it simple. “Thank you, milady,” he answered, trying to keep his voice clear. Milady? Was that the right word? Odin’s breath, had he erred already? The land barons he normally dealt with, cared little about etiquette. They simply wanted capable woodsmen to keep their borders secure.
At least he knew to speak only when spoken to and to not look her in the eye. His mouth dried out and his mind whirled. No way to run and no place to go if he could. Even facing the gallows was preferable to being stuck alone with a future mother-in-law who was also the queen of the most powerful nation on Titaan.
The Queen’s robes rustled as she stepped closer. She stopped only a pace away. He noticed a delicate fragrance coming from her that reminded him of all the pleasant woman-scents he’d ever smelled.
A long silence passed. He sensed that she was smiling at him, probably because of his blundering. It gave him hope. Better that she be amused than appalled.
“We are Kalindinai. Our daughter Sarai has written to Us a great deal about you.” Her tone dropped and became stern. “We were interested to see this man she would defy her father for.”
Bannor shuddered. Odin, I’m in it. Hecate wants my power. Father wants my head, and Mother wants what’s left.
Be eloquent. What would Laramis say? His tongue stuck. “I—” He cleared his throat. His voice cracked anyway. “I never intended to cause trouble. We—I—didn’t know Sarai was—”
Kalindinai cut him off. “We are aware of Our daughter’s duplicity.” She stepped closer. It startled him when she took his chin between her fingers and forced him to look up. “Look at Us. What We are concerned with is far more important.” The Queen’s eyes narrowed and he felt that her stare could have bored through steel. Her long nails dug into his skin. “Do you truly love Our daughter, Bannor Starfist?”
She went straight for the heart. At least that question he could answer without tripping over himself. His certainty made it easy to make his tone firm. “Absolutely.”
The Queen scrutinized him for a moment then stepped back. She folded her arms under her ample breasts. “Do you know what it means to love a daughter of Malan?”
He swallowed hard. Suddenly, it felt very hot in this cave. Bannor sensed he would soon find out. “Truthfully, no.”
Kalindinai sighed. She pulled a long black rod from her sash, and rested its length on her shoulder. She seemed to be collecting her thoughts.
Before the Queen said anything, Wren’s voice interrupted. “Bannor, we have good news. We—”
The Queen’s robes made a snapping motion as she whirled to face the sound. Wren and Meliandri froze as they stepped around the partition. He’d never seen Wren as startled or scared as she must have been right then. The savant’s blue eyes grew round and her skin went ashen. A big grin faded from Meliandri’s lips as if she’d looked death in the eye. As though someone had axed their knees, both women fell into deep curtsies, their foreheads touching the stone floor.
Queen Kalindinai’s voice took on that commanding tone he’d heard Sarai use. “Arwen Kergatha, dama Meliandri, We do not recall sending for either of you.”
Bannor had seen Wren glare in the eye of an avatar without turning a hair, but the queen’s tone actually made the savant cringe. Seeing that, told him of Kalindinai’s power and Wren’s respect for her authority.
The Queen gripped the black rod in both hands and frowned. “Meliandri, you are dismissed.”
The plump red-haired elf glanced up, curtsied again and scurried away.
Wren’s eyes were closed. Bannor could see her cursing under her breath.
“Arwen, We would expect better manners given Our hospitality.” Her voice stayed cool with rebuke.
The savant winced as if she’d been smacked. “Matradomma, my apologies, I did not think you’d be here.”
“As you can see Arwen, We are indeed here. Therefore, your surmise was in error. Would you not agree?”
Wren inhaled as though it had gotten difficult for her to breathe. “Yes, Matradomma.”
Bannor saw now where Sarai’s hard side came from. Kalindinai probably could make Odin himself toe the dirt.
A cold tremor shot through him—to have her as a mother-in-law? If he somehow survived the ordeal with Hecate he would have this fearsome chimera to face. This woman got things her way.
“Rise, Arwen.” She pointed next to Bannor. “Sit.”
Wren sat. The blonde savant’s whole demeanor had become that of a chastened girl. Bannor barely recognized her without that defiant set to her jaw and that superior little smile.
Kalindinai twirled the black rod and paced. “Since We have you both here, We can
question you together.” She stopped and focused on the two of them. “What have you done to Sarai? She is not the daughter that left Us two summers ago.” Her stare began first on him, and then drifted to Wren. “Her father cannot see the change, but We can.”
Bannor answered first. “It is my fault, Matradomma,” he said. At least he knew the proper address now. “A bad situation forced me to use my Garmtur—” Wren tensed beside him. Bannor realized his error too late. Nothing for it now, he plunged on. “I used it to imbue Sarai with magic because I could not physically be present to defend her.”
“Garmtur?” Kalindinai’s eyebrow rose. “So that’s what this is all about. A chaos bringer and, of course—” The Queen closed her eyes and she suddenly laughed. “Our daughter wants to marry you! Never to be outdone for finding herself in the middle of trouble, that is Our third born.” She shook her head with a rueful expression. Her jaw tightened. “What is your part in this Kel’Varan? How much of the avatar’s agitation rests on your shoulders?”
A muscle in Wren’s cheek twitched. Her blue eyes grew intense as if she were happy to be the cause. “Perhaps all, Matradomma. We have destroyed Rankorhaaz, Mazerak, and Nystruul. Those minions won’t bother Titaan again.”
“An impressive list of foes. We wonder at the Arwen’s undertaking of this venture unassisted. Where is your Sire and Doma? Certainly, they did not plan this chancy endeavor.”
“Father and Mother didn’t believe in the power of the Garmtur. It had to be done without their blessing.”
The Queen brought the rod around so its tip rested under Wren’s nose. Her tone could slice steel. “You are saying that you chose to do this without your sovereign’s authority, without support, without getting permission from any of the nations your actions put at risk?”
Wren looked in pain now. “There was no time, Matradomma, Hecate’s minions were already moving. Once they got him we would be unable to wrest him away. Speed was—”
Kalindinai slapped Wren across the face. “Fool. We would slap you again except that it is your Doma’s job. Over twelve thousand are dead already of this mockery.” She pointed a finger. “Their deaths are your fault, child. We have watched this Arwen for summers and know her independent ways. Thought she to sneak in and slip away with the Garmtur with no one the wiser. Her over-confidence is abundantly clear. Her victories do not ameliorate her grievous error. She knew not what she was getting into. It has been parody of chase, counter-strike, and luck that brings you to us now—now that things are far out of control. We are grievously disappointed in your behavior Arwen, and truly appalled that one of such lineage would commit so heinous act of ego.”
Tears streamed down Wren’s face.
Kalindinai hit the rod into her palm with a crack. “Your presence greatly disturbs Us. Be gone, Arwen, We shall deal with you later.” She stabbed a finger in the direction that Meliandri went.
Wren swallowed and rose. Her tears made dark spots on the bright green blouse she wore. The savant trembled; her fists were clenched at her sides. She curtsied to the Queen, turned and ran.
The queen watched, hands white knuckled on the rod. A shiver went through her.
Bannor trembled. He’d never seen Wren’s actions in that way. The savant must have felt the judgment accurate or she would have argued more.
Kalindinai focused on him. “Bannor, you disturb Us greatly as well. You are the problem our wayward Arwen has dragged in out of the rain. Her Sire and Doma are deeply regarded by Ourselves as beings of truly noble standing. Much to Our disapproval, their daughter is unrestrained. The Arwen is immensely capable, and her intentions and heart are good. She simply has the pretentious habit of taking too much on herself. Her unilateral decision concerning you was far beyond the scope of her authority. It falls to Us now to clean up after the child.” She sighed. “Firstly, let us make one thing clear.”
She took Bannor’s chin between her fingers again.
“There shall be no deal with Hecate.”
* * *
There are eternals, immortals, immorts, changlings, and the various races of spirit-kin. Any of them will tell you there is a great difference between being immortal and simply living forever…
—From the Dedriad, ‘musings of an immortal’
Chapter Forty-Six
« ^ »
With her hand gripping his face Bannor blinked and stared into violet eyes of the Malanian queen, Kalindinai. Everything about her reminded him of a Sarai grown wiser and more compelling with the passing of centuries. This royal lady had turned the domineering Wren into a trembling and thoroughly humbled woman.
That was power. A person who could slap Wren down and make her take it was someone to respect.
Kalindinai had turned on him. Within instants, the Queen’s insight stabbed into him with uncanny accuracy.
The hand gripping his face pinched down. “Understand me, Bannor? No deals with Hecate.”
He swallowed, feeling as if he would melt beneath her scrutiny. The beating of his heart, the tumbling of the underground stream nearby and the distant echoing of battle practice all seemed to impinge upon the silence. How did she know? He’d told no one of his vision. Did she read his mind? He knew Wren could do it.
Her jaw tightened at his hesitation. She had sprung the statement on him so fast. One moment they were talking of Wren, and then she was telling him of Hecate and answering the question that troubled him so deeply.
Bannor cleared his throat. His skin felt hot and prickly. “I heard, I—”
Kalindinai cut in. “We did not ask if you heard. Did you understand?”
“I—”
Her nails dug in with stabs of pain. He felt himself withering under her intensity. Kalindinai’s voice turned harsh. “Yes or no.”
“Yes.”
She let go, stepped back, and started pacing again clapping the black rod in her palm. “We have walked the surface of Titaan for two millennia. We have seen dominions rise and fall. One thing remained constant.” She stopped. “Gods. Even those who claim to be benevolent are untrustworthy. Even Our patron deity, Carellion Lothlarian, the law giver of the elves is mercurial and capricious.” She cracked the rod against the floor. “They honor no bargains. Hecate has you slated for a prime deception.”
She took his hand and held his fingers up. “These yellow stains beneath your nails. They are signs of the gray death. It is a plague carried by Hecate’s demons. It is rare, but We have seen it before. When you let slip you were a Garmtur, the reasons for your condition came clear.”
“What can I do?” He clenched his free hand into a fist. “I don’t want to die. Others shouldn’t be killed on my account.”
“We know a cure. Besides,” Kalindinai lowered her voice. “To whom would you rather owe your life, Bannor, Ourselves or Hecate?”
Bannor felt his stomach do a cartwheel. A double-edged question if ever he heard one. He swallowed and gazed into the woman’s eyes. No doubt, if he declined, he would never see Sarai again. If he cooperated, the Queen would have a strangle hold on him. She’d already choked Wren out. It might be days before the savant held her head up again after that verbal thrashing. His answer was mere formality. He knew it and so did Kalindinai.
“You,” he said. Already, he saw what a life in Sarai’s family might have in store.
Kalindinai nodded. “We shall see to it that Dama Meliandri has the proper curatives. We will perform the purification rites Ourselves.” She turned and leaned against the partition and looked toward the underground river.
Bannor shifted uneasily in the cot. In a way, he felt relieved that the decision concerning the deal with Hecate had been made for him. Another part of him resented it. This woman didn’t even know him. She paraded into his life and told him what trail to take and whose drum to march to. It was for that very same reason that he disliked Wren, for barging into his affairs and turning everything upside down.
He studied Kalindinai from behind, the stiff bearing, each hair and
every fold of cloth exactly so. This was Sarai’s mother. If that were Kalindinai’s only credential he’d be hesitant to argue with her, but she was the Queen of Malan as well. He loved Sarai, but the prospect of facing this woman and her family on daily basis could make the bravest suitor swoon.
Kalindinai sighed. The tautness in her shoulders relaxed and her fingers loosened and tightened on the haft of the black rod she carried.
“You probably think Us an ogre.” She turned and patted the rod against her thigh. She bit her lip. “Softness is not an option for Us. Responsibility is a burden that forces Us to make hard decisions. You will cause Us to make some of the hardest We have ever made.” She looked up to the cavern roof. “Much of what a Queen says is dictated to her by policy.” Kalindinai’s gaze fixed on him. “Always there is a dichotomy between what Our nation needs and what we Ourselves desire.”
She smacked the rod on her thigh again. “With Wren, we had to maintain the official line. Unofficially, I,” She stressed ‘I’. “Think she did well acting as she did. Hecate concealed your presence and true power from elders such as myself and Wren’s Sire and Doma. Had Wren acted in a proper fashion telling Us first, the war would simply have started sooner. She struck unexpectedly, and took out key individuals in their army. As a nation, We will not be faced with those foes. It is unfortunate that We, that I, cannot tell her that she has done well. As Malan, We can only deride her lack of regard for procedure and responsibility. You understand don’t you?”
Bannor thought he did. Officially, the Queen had to give Wren a comeuppance. Kalindinai could not reverse or change that position, or even apologize—not officially. He guessed she told him this so that he could relay those regrets. “Yes, Matradomma.”
“Good,” she said. She caressed his cheek and a smile flickered across her lips. It made the Queen’s face glow. “We went to see Our daughter. We found her quite stricken.” She pursed her lips and examined a lacquered fingernail. “Though the symptoms were rather mild, We explained to the guards that Sarai appears to be afflicted with the same sickness as yourself. We decided that the two of you should be isolated in this ward until we know how this plague is spread.” Kalindinai looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “We will be watching. This malady has obviously affected Sarai’s heart as well as her stubborn head. Our daughter is extremely dear to Us. Remember that.”
Reality's Plaything Page 36