“Roland lied to me,” she said, finding the truth hard to swallow. “He knew all along Master Xander wasn’t a prisoner of the Wolf Clan; he’s been playing me from the start. Why can’t we take my true friends and leave the others here for the Wolf Pack?”
“Is that what you really want to do?”
“No,” Taliesin said. “I’m not that type of person. I wish none of these men any harm, even though they want to use me to help their king defeat his sons. I know what you can do with your magic, so I see no reason to fear the unknown. We still have many miles to go, the Wolf Pack is right behind us, and so is Prince Sertorius. Though I appreciate your concern, Zarnoc, let things be. I would not tamper with time or fate, so let things be as they are meant to be.”
“So be it.”
The old sorcerer snapped his fingers, and with a blink of an eye, Taliesin was surrounded by a maelstrom of white-turbaned riders on camels, who circled their group and stirred sand so thick in her mouth she removed the scarf from her hair and tied it around her face. The noise of the riders and camels was deafening, yet Taliesin and remained calm as they surrounded her group. As anticipated, Sir Roland and Tamal, carrying the knight’s standard, rode to a cloaked rider on a white camel. The camel was dressed with an ornate blue saddle over a red and gold blanket edged with silver tassels, suggesting its owner was the leader and of noble birth. In the rider’s hand was a whip used to push away the hood of the cloak. The face of a twenty-year-old man stared at Roland and Tamal. His complexion was pale, and he had sharp, gold eyes that Taliesin thought looked hard and cruel, even at a distance. A conversation between Roland and the strange young man ensued, and Taliesin hardened her heart as her lover pointed at her, making it clear her identity had been revealed.
“What’s Roland thinking?” Hawk asked. “Is he mad? That’s Master Xander—I’ve seen him before. I thought he was a prisoner of the Wolf Pack. We’ve been conned, that’s what this is about, and Roland played us all for fools.”
Zarnoc let out a heavy sigh. “I tried to warn Taliesin.”
“When?” Hawk asked. “You’ve been behind Roland since day one, old man. Don’t tell us now you had doubts about Roland. He’s led us into a trap, and you jolly well let him.”
“It’s no use arguing or pointing fingers,” Taliesin said. “Roland arranged for an escort to make certain we arrived at the Cave of the Snake God. The Eagle legionnaires and Knights of the White Stag are in cahoots, but that doesn’t matter. Nor does Roland’s deception. We can use them to reach the cave in safety and ditch them at the earliest opportunity. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” her friends said.
Roland removed his helmet, placed a fist against his left shoulder, tapped twice, and then swept his arm forward, fingers stretched out. Any resemblance to Grudge had faded, and to Taliesin he now looked every inch a Knight of the White Stag. The young man returned the salute. A flash of gold on Xander’s finger caught Taliesin’s trained eye: a ring of pure gold. As he lowered his arm, she saw he wore a gold chain that would have brought a handsome price at market. No one had any business being in the desert wearing such expensive ornamentation.
“Sir Roland Brisbane of Ruthenia, it is good to see you again,” the young man called out in a voice loud enough for Taliesin to hear. Banners snapped in the breeze and blocked much of what he said. “...Grand Master, Banik Dzobian, sends his regards, as does my father.” He turned his head as a cloud of sand blew past, and his voice faded, but he continued to speak while Roland nodded and pointed toward Taliesin.
“Roland must have a good reason for betraying us,” Wren said. “But I don’t see why we had to dress as men. These are Djaran. What harm can it be for them to know our gender?”
Rook placed his silver spear across his lap. “Keep your voices low,” he said, in a deep rumble as the others stared at him, shocked to hear him speak. “We can’t be sure what Roland has told Master Xander. Think what you like, but I know Roland well enough to believe he wouldn’t have led them here if he had any other choice. He’s trying to protect you three women; that’s why he had you dress as men, so don’t make things worse by revealing your gender.”
“Or that you four are anything but what you seem,” added Hawk. “Those men are all wearing heavy armor. I say we make a break for it; they’ll never be able to catch us. Taliesin has the map. We have everything we need to reach the cave.”
“No reason we can’t leave a trail,” Taliesin said. She pulled the scarf off her neck, wrapped it around her dagger, and then dropped it onto the sand. The sand blew over the scarf, hiding half of it, but she knew any Wolfmen could smell her scent and follow.
With a nod at Master Xander, Roland remained at his side while Tamal rode to Taliesin and her friends. The legionaries and knights fanned out, formed two straight lines, and at a shout for their commander, headed west, toward the sun. Tamal looked stoic as he approached Taliesin and her friends. Five legionnaires broke rank and rode to them, as if expecting trouble as Taliesin rode forward to meet the squire.
“You can tell Roland we know what’s expected of us, Tamal,” Taliesin said, speaking before he had a chance to relay any message. “I assume we’re to be escorted to the Cave of the Snake God to turn Ringerike over to Master Xander.”
Hawk let out a snort. “Like that will ever happen,” he quipped.
“I apologize for what has happened,” Tamal said. “Sirocco, you and your brothers are to make certain no harm comes to Taliesin. I do not have time to explain everything that was said, but this man expects your full cooperation. I am to accompany Sir Roland. As his squire, I must stay at his side at all times.”
“And that’s it?” Taliesin said.
“We all have roles to play,” Tamal said. “I am certain Sir Roland regrets what has happened, Mistress Taliesin. I could see it on his face.” He glanced at his sister. “Do not give away your identity, no matter what happens, Jaelle. These men are not our friends, and we are all in great danger.”
Tamal turned and rode toward the head of the procession. A lump formed in Taliesin’s chest where her heart used to be, and she couldn’t help wondering what might have happened if she’d left with Zarnoc when she had the opportunity. Since she’d decided on remaining and letting fate run its course, she had no other choice but to follow. Sirocco took the lead of their small party and rode to the side of the knights and legionnaires. Zarnoc lifted his parasol over his head and rode along beside the eldest brother. Taliesin fell in behind them with Jaelle. Wren and Rook came next, and then Hawk and Harmattan, the youngest brother, while Simoom and Khamsin trailed behind. The escort of five Eagles remained behind them, lances lowered and making it clear they were prisoners.
“Why did you agree to go with them?” Jaelle said. “You didn’t even act surprised when we were set upon by these men. Did you know what Roland was planning?”
Taliesin nodded. “I found out too late to do anything about it,” she said. “But trust me, I do not intend to let Master Xander get his greasy hands on the Raven Sword. His father, Lord Arundel, allowed the Wolf Clan to slaughter my clan, though he could have prevented their deaths. Roland is only doing what he’s been told to by his Grand Master. It’s my fault for trusting him; I knew his loyalty lay with King Frederick, not with me. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hurt by his actions, because I am, but so be it.”
“You hide it well, Raven Mistress.” Jaelle picked up a flask of water and took a drink, before handing it to Taliesin. “If you desire revenge, I could slip into Xander’s tent tonight and slit his throat. I could do the same to Roland—he has betrayed you.”
Taliesin heard Zarnoc singing in a merry voice while the camels grunted and snorted. She didn’t respond right away, and listened to the noises around her before taking a sip of water and returning the flask to the gypsy girl. The sun beat on their heads. The wind was fading, and she wondered how far the horses could go before requiring rest and water.
“I don’t blame Roland for bei
ng who he is,” Taliesin said, at last. “My father taught me to forgive but never forget an injustice, nor to be surprised when it happens again. I wanted to believe Roland loved me, but this isn’t the first time I’ve been disappointed by someone I love. Prince Sertorius was my childhood friend. He didn’t recognize me at the Volgate or at the tavern. But I remember on my eighth birthday he gave me a gold locket. It disappeared later, and I cried for days thinking it was stolen. Afterwards, I saw a nobleman’s daughter wearing the same necklace and realized Sertorius had taken it and given it to another.”
“Then you can’t trust either man,” Jaelle said.
“I know that,” Taliesin said. “I expect nothing but absolute honesty and loyalty from a friend. Anyone who lies or proves dishonest is no friend of mine. I loved Sertorius, and I loved Roland, but both went out of their way to hurt me. It doesn’t matter why they did it or how long ago it happened. Neither man was ever my friend.”
“I swear I will never betray you, Taliesin. I would do anything for you. Anything.”
Jaelle reached out and put her hand on Taliesin’s arm. Taliesin could hear Hawk chuckling behind them, but whether it was about the sign of affection or something else, she could only guess. She felt compelled to place her hand over the gypsy girl’s hand.
“Then no matter what happens, Jaelle, you must help me keep Ringerike safe. It cannot fall into the hands of the enemy. The Raven Sword is mine,” Taliesin said, her lips tightening. She wanted to unbind her breasts, let her hair loose, and lay havoc upon the line of armored men that rode escort. Damn them all, she thought. “I know it requires the true Raven heir to call upon the sword’s magic powers, but I don’t care. We’re going to all this trouble to find it, after all this time, and I do not intend to give it to any man. I feel like I was born to have that sword, and one day I will avenge the deaths of my clan and the two men I called ‘father.’”
* * *
A rush of purple spread across the evening sky with the setting of the sun, and Taliesin sagged in the saddle. Throughout the day, Jaelle had handed her leaves rolled into balls filled with a powder that tasted like mustard seed. But when placed beneath the tongue, the strange powder lowered her body temperature and lessened her thirst. “The powder is made from the ground bark of the Banyok tree, found only in Erindor,” Jaelle said to her. “My people trade for it when we travel south each spring. It will keep you alive, Taliesin.”
And it did help, along with the short breaks allowed to water the horses, until the water brought by Master Xander and his army ran dry and riders were sent ahead to find the closest oasis or well. When at last the cavalcade stopped for the night, Taliesin was so tired that all thoughts of escape seemed more burden than a sense of freedom.
The Eagles and knights set up their small tents around a few small campfires. The camels rested beside the tents, while the horses were tied to tether lines. Taliesin and her group were watched but not bothered by the men, and when Zarnoc set his three magical tents, the most interested party was the Eagle legionnaires. But even they had sense enough to be leery of a wizard, and avoided coming to the Raven tents, preferring to watch from a distance.
“You did well today,” Taliesin said, as she removed her saddle from Thalagar. She’d placed more than one of the rolled leaves under the horse’s tongue during the day, trying to keep him cool, and had used the last of her own water to quench his thirst.
“The Djaran have come and gone,” Rook said. He held the reins to the other Ravens’ horses and took Thalagar’s reins out of her hand. “We have enough water to last a few more days. I’ll brush the horses and feed and water them.
Rook led the horses into the tent used as a barn: Thalagar, Merryweather, Thunder, the mule Bessie, Jaelle’s horse Durell, and Rook’s horse Slap-Dash. The Nova brothers brought their mounts into the same tent to groom and feed them. Roland’s and Tamal’s horses were left outside the largest tent, which had been confiscated by Master Xander. Taliesin stood beside her saddle and gear, outside her own tent, and waited for Wren and Jaelle. Both girls carried their saddles and backpacks into Taliesin’s tent. The interior was the same as the night before with the exception of additional beds.
“All I want is a hot bath and a pillow,” Wren said. She collapsed on the carpet beside a bed and pulled off a boot. “I can’t manage the other. I’m too sore. Everything hurts.”
“I’ll help,” Jaelle said, laughing.
No sooner did Jaelle pull off Wren’s boot than a tub, large enough for eight people, appeared in the middle of the tent, with steam rising from hot water. Both Wren and Jaelle laughed and started taking off their clothes as Taliesin sat at the table and poured a tall glass of water. The glass was delicate and felt cold when she drank the contents. She heard splashing and kicked off her boots. She watched the two younger women tussling over a sponge and decided to join them. Removing her clothes, stiff with sand, produced a mess on the carpet, but she managed and soon sat in the hot water, a contented smile on her face.
“I’m going to stay in this water until it turns cold,” Wren said. “Zarnoc thinks of everything.”
“The water he is using doesn’t appear out of thin air,” replied Taliesin. She soaped her hair into a lather. “This is drinking water stolen from our escort. I hope he’ll put it back where he found it when we are finished—Xander can drink the scum off our bodies.”
“He’d probably enjoy it.” Wren ducked beneath the water. The black dye in her hair washed out, leaving it bright yellow and sticking on end. She appeared boyish and far younger than her years since cutting it. Her breasts were small enough not to be bruised from binding. Taliesin watched Jaelle rub her own breasts, producing a rosy glow as a low moan came from the gypsy girl.
“You’re enjoying that too much, Jaelle...knock it off,” Taliesin said, content to relax in the hot water without massaging herself. She thought of Roland and his large hands, but forced images of their lovemaking from her mind; that wasn’t going to happen again.
Afterwards, Taliesin and the girls found clean gowns on the bed, blue, pink, and red, arranged in a tidy row. Wren helped brush everyone’s hair, and Jaelle braided Taliesin’s long hair before her own. It was dark outside when they finished, and Zarnoc, Hawk, and Rook joined them. The wizard wore a bright violet robe and sheepskin boots, and smelled fresh as daisies. The other two men wore their Raven gear, glad to be rid of their armor, but were unwashed and smelled like horses. Rook had brought a dice game, and Hawk had news about Tamal and the brothers, who were ordered to attend a dinner with Roland and Master Xander in the large tent. Zarnoc let out a sigh as he created a table and two long benches out of thin air.
“Dinner is served, my friends.” Zarnoc waved his hand and a fine feast of lamb shanks, potatoes and greens, and piping hot bread with butter appeared on the table. A goblet of cold water appeared before each of them, along with a crystal glass filled with red wine, as they sat. “Waste not, eat your fill,” he said, as he set about serving the assembly, though he looked tired. He sat at the end of the table on a large chair, and he ate with his hands instead of using the silver utensils. “Lamb is best when you lick the grease off your fingers,” he explained.
“How do you have so much magic to use?” Wren said, buttering a slice of bread. “You have been at it all day, Zarnoc. I’m so tired. I haven’t had a vision in three days. It’s really quite a blessing; I realize now that the best way to avoid visions is sheer exhaustion.”
“Your visions are very helpful, my dear. I’m sorry you’ve had none about the Eagle Clan,” he said, “but even I was surprised when they appeared. I really didn’t see them coming. I suspect Master Xander carries a charm that protects him from being seen. That would explain how they made it here without running into any Wolfmen or Prince Sertorius. I don’t think he or those soldiers like me; but then, I could always turn them into mice if they get in my way.” He sighed. “Poor Ginger. She’s not eaten in a few days, but tonight she’ll taste this delicious
lamb, and she’ll be compelled to find something to eat.”
Wren, seated closest to Zarnoc, stood, leaned over her plate of food, and kissed him on the cheek. “I don’t see how anyone couldn’t care for you. You’re a darling, Zarnoc,” she said in a sweet voice. “None of us would have made it this far without your help. Here you are serving us, when we should be washing your feet and drying it with our hair, like the Djaran women do. Tamal told me how their women take care of their men after a long day’s ride. Women are never allowed to sit at the table, and they eat last, even after the children and dogs.”
“Thank the gods we are not Djaran,” Jaelle said. “We are fortunate we haven’t run into them. But they know we are here; they are watching us from a safe distance. They are nothing but savages. Women are but possessions to them, to be used and traded like camels and goats. Their men do not have more than one wife as we Ghajaran do, but cast them aside when they find a younger or richer one. The days when we traded with them have long since passed. My father won’t trade with the Djaran—he considers them thieves and brigands.”
“Now, now, let’s not get ugly.” Zarnoc licked his fingers with a smack. “I have always heard it said the gypsies and nomads are ‘king makers and crown breakers.’ The common people keep a king, a Shan, or a sheik in power. There has always been competition between your people and the Djaran, but the line between grazing and cultivated lands moves according to the strength or weakness of whatever king sits on the throne. The Kings of Caladonia rule both the desert dwellers and the gypsies.”
“And three clans,” Hawk said, downing his wine. He refilled his glass and poured more for Rook, who showed signs of being tipsy. Rook didn’t like lamb, though he ate everything else, and he grew sleepier by the minute.
Seeker of Magic Page 33