DARK DREAMS

by Cory Daniells

  Tulkhan threw his cloak and gloves on the table then strode towards Imoshen, thinking she looked more beautiful than ever with her narrow features softened by the bloom of new life. By Ghebite custom, this late in her pregnancy she would have been hidden away from all but the women of his house-line. Instead of being repelled by her changed body he wanted to run his hands all over her, to savor every ripe curve. But to touch her was to let his guard down and he must know the truth first.

  “Is it true what they’re saying? Did he rape you?”

  She laughed and he wanted to strangle her.

  “Of course not. That is a Ghebite custom.”

  Cursing, he ignored the insult. “Then you submitted willingly? ”

  “I was not conscious when the Keeper found me with Reothe.”

  “In every village or nobleman’s keep, I hear the same thing,” Tulkhan growled. “They are saying this was not the first time, that the babe you carry is his and you two plot to kill me when it suits you.”

  Imoshen came to her feet, pushing herself out of the chair. The added weight of the baby made her movements slower but no less graceful. It hurt him to look on her, knowing what was being said. According to the rumors she was sweet treachery itself.

  She approached him with her hands out palm up, her face gentle and mocking. “How can you worry about what they are saying when you know you were the first and only one for me?”

  He knew it was true. He caught her to him, feeling the hard swelling of the baby between them. A number of swift kicks told him his son resented the pressure. Shocked, he met Imoshen’s eyes. She smiled. Any day now he would be a father. The evidence had just kicked him. A delighted laugh escaped Tulkhan.

  “Our son is an active little fellow,” she said. “Tell me, how many men did you lose fighting the rebels?”

  The abrupt change of subject startled him. One minute she was all woman, the next she thought and spoke like a man. It unnerved him more than he cared to admit.

  He shook his head wearily. “Too many died for what we achieved. Enough for me to know that you were right. The rebels hide and strike without warning, melting into the ravines so that we can’t pursue them. If we do chase them, my men get separated and picked off one by one.” He felt the weight of their deaths. “But I won’t try your way either.”

  “So what will you do?”

  “I am considering.”

  She pressed her face into his neck. Her breath was warm on his skin and his body responded to her touch. She had to twist her hips so that the baby lay to one side of them. This was his child and Reothe had stolen it from him without ever touching Imoshen!

  “Why didn’t you call for help?” he demanded. “We could have had him!”

  He felt her sigh. “Take off your things, you smell of horse and sweat. Let me bathe you.”

  She moved through to the bathing room where she checked that the burner was heating and released the valve. Water steamed as it poured into the waist-high tub.

  Tulkhan watched the marvel. He had not been so long in the palace that he took such things for granted, especially after weeks of living rough in the inhospitable ranges.

  Imoshen approached him, ready to help him disrobe. The thought of her hands running over his soapy body made him ache to have her, despite the Ghebite stricture against such things. By rights they should not share any intimacy in the last small moon of her pregnancy. But she was deliberately distracting him. Reothe had been here in this very palace.

  He caught her hands before she could touch him. “Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

  She looked obliquely up at him. Her expression seemed calculating, but it could have been the way the light fell on her features.

  “I did not willingly invite Reothe into the palace. He grew up here. He must know of secret passages.”

  “He didn’t just appear?”

  “In a flash of light? No.” She shook her head, smiling fondly at Tulkhan.

  “Then he was really here. He grows arrogant.”

  “I don’t know how Reothe slipped in and out unseen, but I’m glad he did, because it brought you back.” She grinned a challenge at him, then tugged at his laces. “You will stay here now?”

  “I don’t know. My men are withdrawing—”

  “Consolidating.”

  “It looks like a defeat. It stinks of defeat.”

  “Defeat is when you are dead,” Imoshen told him. “And not before!”

  “True.” He smiled, admiring her spirit.

  Imoshen turned her back to him. “Undo my lacings.”

  His heart pounded and his fingers trembled as he fumbled with the knot. Tulkhan swallowed dry mouthed.

  “Wait,” Imoshen whispered.

  She walked over and slid the door’s bolt, then turned to him and let the gown fall from her shoulders. As he drank in her splendor he understood that he would put aside the strictures of his upbringing for her. What wouldn’t he do to possess her?

  The following day Tulkhan stood in the maproom studying the Keldon Highlands. If he were to build fortresses to hold the two passes into that region, it would contain the rebel army’s freedom of movement. He was considering the reaction of the proud Keldon nobles when his thoughts were interrupted by a servant scratching at the door.

  Merkah entered with the ink and scriber he had requested.

  “Close the door,” Tulkhan told her.

  She placed the instruments on the table.

  “So?” Tulkhan prodded.

  “T’Imoshen asked for word of you every day.”

  “Did she have any meetings with unexpected people?”

  The girl looked perplexed.

  “Any of the Keldon nobles or their servants?”

  Merkah shook her head.

  “So nothing out of the ordinary happened?”

  “There was that time when T’Reothe—”

  “Apart from that.” Idly, Tulkhan wondered what the maid hoped to achieve by spying on her mistress. Surely she realized he would never trust her, and if Imoshen ever discovered her deceit Merkah would lose her position.

  “No, General.”

  He dismissed the girl and returned to the maps. His men expected him to lead them to victory even against overwhelming odds. But Reothe did not follow the standard rules of warfare. He attacked, then melted away, shielded by the sullen farm folk who claimed they hadn’t seen him come or go. A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

  “Yes?” he answered, expecting one of his men.

  An unfamiliar servant backed in with a tray of food. “I—” Tulkhan caught sight of the man who accompanied the servant.

  “Come in, Kinraid, join me.” He heard the false welcome in his voice and wondered at the man he was becoming.

  Twice before, the Vaygharian had brought him news. Tulkhan preferred to let Kinraid believe he had won Tulkhan’s trust through his information. Besides, he would rather hear it from the snake’s mouth than hear Kinraid’s lies from people he trusted.

  “You may leave,” Tulkhan signaled the servant.

  “No, he should stay. What my man has to say will concern you,” Kinraid said.

  Tulkhan nodded, masking his irritation. Shoving the maps aside to clear a space on the table, he sat down, stretching out his long legs. He knew he appeared casual and relaxed. It was a lie.

  The little man poured wine for Tulkhan and his master.

  “Speak, Kinraid.” Tulkhan accepted his wine.

  “The palace is riddled with secret passages,” he announced. “That is how Reothe made his way in unobserved.”

  “So Imoshen told me.”

  “She also claimed to be unconscious. But my man here heard her speaking with the rebel leader.”

  “They spoke?” Warily he watched the two men for any sign of complicity. “Was your man able to make out what they said?”

  Kinraid shook his head. “Their words were muffled by the door, Protector General. But they spoke for a good while befor
e the Keeper returned and caught him ravishing her.”

  Tulkhan looked away. The room swam before him.

  “My man was one of the first into the room,” Kinraid continued inexorably. “He found the Keeper on the floor and your wife appeared to be unconscious. She was almost naked. The Keeper said he caught them embracing—”

  “If she was unconscious, Reothe was the one doing the embracing,” Tulkhan corrected.

  Kinraid’s mocking silence presented a thousand possibilities to Tulkhan. Imoshen was a swift thinker. What better way to avert suspicion than to feign a faint?

  “Whether she was unconscious or not,” Kinraid went on, “it is clear she had the opportunity to call for help. We could have had the rebel leader arrested and awaiting you even now in the cells below!”

  The vision of Reothe brought below was a pleasant one. But Tulkhan doubted that a mere prison cell could contain the T’En warrior for long.

  Exasperation filled Tulkhan. How was he to defeat Reothe? No one alive today knew the extent of the Dhamfeer’s gifts. No one but Imoshen.

  The thought drove him to action.

  “Where are you going?” Kinraid asked.

  Tulkhan was filled with fury. He did not have to explain his actions to a man whose trade was treachery.

  Seeing the General’s expression, Kinraid stepped back abruptly and made an obeisance of apology.

  The corridors were remarkably busy with servants. No, Imoshen was not in the library. No, she was not in any of the entertainment rooms, nor the kitchen or storerooms. Someone had seen her go out for a walk.

  Tulkhan’s boots crunched on the fine white gravel path of the palace’s formal garden. What had Reothe said? The one you love has the most power to hurt you. Tulkhan felt a bitter smile twist his lips. Love. He had no time for that weakening emotion. He would be utterly calm and trick the truth from her.

  There she was, through the trees. Imoshen tilted her head to study the fruit tree. According to the gardeners, this blossom-laden bush would produce masses of stone fruit. Now if she could only graft a cutting onto the fruit trees back at the Stronghold . . .

  “Imoshen!”

  When she turned to face Tulkhan his expression made her reel. But outwardly she maintained her calm, snapping off a twig heavy with blossom before greeting him. “I think I’ll take some cuttings back to the Stronghold with me. They tell me not only is this tree exquisite in the spring, but it’s an excellent fruiter.”

  “Imoshen!” He caught her by the shoulders. “You lied to me. You said Reothe knocked you out. But now I’m told you spoke with him.”

  “Your spies took this long to report that?”

  He glowered and she cursed her unruly tongue.

  “You lied, Imoshen!”

  “I omitted to mention it. Reothe did knock me out and I don’t know how he did it.” That still rankled. “But not before we talked.”

  “What about?”

  It was time for the truth. With a twist she freed her shoulders and rubbed the imprint of his anger from her skin. “It was the eighteenth anniversary of my birthing day, the day 1 would have been bonded to Reothe. He came to see me, to ask me to go with him.”

  Tulkhan blinked. She could tell he found the truth unpleasant but was not surprised.

  “What was your answer?”

  “I am here, aren’t I?” Imoshen thumped his chest with enough force to let him know she was angry.

  Tulkhan absorbed the blow but it appeared nothing would pierce his foul mood.

  “Why didn’t you call for help?” he demanded. “We could have had Reothe arrested, awaiting execution even now.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “So you think a Mere-man couldn’t hold one of your kind?”

  Imoshen hesitated. She had never seen Tulkhan so furious. Why was he referring to his people as Mere-men? Then she recalled that Reothe had used that term. Had Reothe planted a seed of doubt in the General’s mind to fester and finally destroy him?

  Instinctively she lifted her hands to cup Tulkhan’s face, but he caught her arms and pulled them down. His strength, fueled by rage, threatened to crush the small bones of her wrists. She gritted her teeth.

  “Don’t play your Dhamfeer tricks on me, Imoshen!”

  “On the contrary, I think Reothe may have played a trick on you.” She kept her voice even. “I was going to search for a sign of his planting doubts in your mind.”

  She felt him shudder with revulsion before dropping her wrists.

  “I am not your enemy,” she insisted.

  “ If you wanted to convince me of that you would have had Reothe lying in a cell when I came back.”

  “That is easy for you to say.” A flush of warm and velvety anger rushed through her, leaving a metallic aftertaste on her tongue. She restrained the impulse to use her gift to sway him. “I am not Reothe’s equal. How many of your men would have died trying to restrain him?”

  “They would have died gladly for me!”

  “I am not so quick to order the deaths of others!”

  Tulkhan flinched.

  She lifted her hands, palm up. “Tulkhan?”

  “What was he doing with you naked in his arms?” The agony in his voice cut her.

  “I was not naked. The laces on my underdress were cut.”

  Tulkhan snorted.

  “I don’t know what Reothe was doing. I wasn’t conscious. He used his gifts. Maybe he was planning to carry me out through the secret passage, in which case you can be glad the Keeper found us when he did.”

  The General stepped back from her. Imoshen saw the gulf widen between them. Only a few steps, but a chasm of misunderstanding. “Tulkhan, please?”

  “Answers trip too easily off your tongue, Imoshen. I let myself believe . . . but no. From this day forward I will not be coming to your bed. I no longer trust you.”

  It was the worst blow. “Then you are lost because I am the only one you can trust. I love you.” It was torn from her.

  She saw him flinch. Was her love so terrible a thing? His rejection was a physical blow.

  She almost staggered. “Tulkhan?”

  He turned on his heel and walked off.

  Through a blur of unshed tears Imoshen watched the stiff angle of General Tulkhan’s broad shoulders as he walked away. When he rounded the corner and the blossoming trees obscured him from sight, her legs gave way and she sank onto the gravel path. The pain in her knees was nothing compared to the pain in her chest.

  This was beyond repair. The General would never trust her again. By withdrawing from her he was sealing his fate, fulfilling Reothe’s prophecy of his death.

  She stared at the gravel. The twig had fallen unnoticed from her hands, and crushed blossoms lay all around her. They had trampled on them, destroying the fine petals. Everything she had worked and planned for might be destroyed before the tree could bloom again. If Tulkhan died, she no longer cared if she saw next spring’s blossoms.

  When Imoshen returned to the palace, weary and desperate to rest, she found the General in their bedchamber. Servants scurried about packing his belongings.

  It was a cruel blow to have their private division witnessed by others. Imoshen met his gaze across the room.

  “I will move into my old bedchamber. I stay here only long enough to greet my son,” the General informed her coldly.

  Imoshen licked her lips. “Take a walk with me in the courtyard.”

  He would have refused but she let him see that this was not an idle request. Aware of the curious glances of the servants, Imoshen led him outside.

  “Well?” he prodded when she did not speak immediately.

  “I have not mentioned this before because I am not sure of things.”

  “No T’En riddles, Imoshen. Get to the point!”

  She rounded on him. “I am not your Ghebite wife to be browbeaten!” She paused to draw a calming breath. “Let me be frank—I don’t know when your son will be born. My mother carried me a full year fro
m conception to birth. Your son is part T’En so it could take—”

  “You’re saying he might not be born until the Harvest Feast?”

  Imoshen nodded and held Tulkhan’s eyes. His Ghebite features hid his thoughts too well. “Throwbacks like myself take a full eight cycles of the small moon.”

  “True-men babies take around six,” Tulkhan remarked. “So you are saying the longer it takes, the more T’En my son will be?”

  Imoshen registered his distaste but she would not give him the pleasure of knowing how much it hurt her.

  Tulkhan turned away, surprising the servants who had been openly watching them through the glass doors. He gestured angrily at them and they hurried back to their tasks.

  It was already past the cusp of summer. His son should have been born any day now if he were a True-man. Tulkhan grimaced. Why had he denied the obvious? If the child was half Imoshen’s he would be half T’En—an alien creature like Reothe. His boy might as well be his enemy’s son.

  Tulkhan strode toward the doors.

  “Where are you going?” Imoshen called.

  He did not answer her, but flung the door open.

  “Don’t bother moving my things,” he told the servants. “I leave to rejoin my men.”

  They stared at him and then at Imoshen who had entered the chamber. Hastily recollecting themselves they made quick obeisances and left the pair alone.

  Tulkhan did not want to be alone with Imoshen. Just to look on her was agony.

  “You will leave me like this?” Her voice was raw.

  He gave her a cold look, closing himself away from her pain. “I leave as soon as I am ready.”

  Imoshen allowed herself hope when she received Tulkhan’s summons to the maproom, but when she saw his grim expression she knew his heart was still set hard against her.

  “I’ve marked the passes. Are there any others?” he demanded, indicating the Keldon Highlands.

  Hiding her disappointment, Imoshen studied the map. “Only those two. The Greater Pass leads directly to T’Diemn and most trade travels that way. The Lesser Pass is a longer, more difficult route and is only used by small parties. The highland ravines are steep and treacherous. Travelers might wander for days trying to find their way. What are you planning?”