WINDDREAMER

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  Tears coursed down his cheeks, and his words broke. He sniffed.

  "Somehow I understand that at the exact moment you claim her, the wave will break over and drown you both, but there isn't anything I can do to stop it. I stand and watch while you take her away from me, and then while the wave takes you both away." He doubled over, hugging himself with pain. "I lose her, Brelan. I lose her to the water! I lose you both to the water!"

  Brelan gathered Conar into his arms, shushing his sobbing. "It won't happen," he said firmly. "None of what you dreamed will happen." He lifted Conar's chin and peered deeply into his eyes. "No one is going to take Elizabeth away from you, or separate you and me. Do you hear me?"

  "I hope you're right."

  "I know I am. It'll never happen."

  Chapter 20

  * * *

  "He stowed away!" Holm strode down the gangplank, Sentian Heil close on his heels. "We didn't have no idea he was on board until we got near to Matheny's Cay!" He turned and fixed Sentian with a rigid stare. "Now who's going be telling ConaR? Not me! No sirree!"

  Sentian grimaced, following as closely behind Holm as he could. His gut told him there'd be hell to pay before the day was out.

  "Me, just minding my own business," Holm fumed, his black boots thumping along the quay. He looked like a stampeding bull. "Making good time coming through the straits, I was. And what do I get? Tarnes, all gooey-eyed and mumbling, telling me that little bastard had stowed away!" He stopped suddenly, Sentian having to back-pedal to keep from plowing into him. "I should have keelhauled his ass! Should have made him walk the plank in shark-infested waters!"

  Sentian released a long, aggravated sigh--Regan. The boy had somehow managed to escape his watchdogs in Chrystallus and hidden himself on The Ravenwind, burrowing in the cargo hold until he was sure the ship was well out to sea and incapable of turning back.

  "Conar's goin' to cat-'o-nine us all!" Holm predicted. His big face set in a frown of hopelessness. "He's gonna take my ship away from me, he is!" Holm swallowed hard. "And I wouldn't blame him!"

  "I don't think--"

  "He's gonna have us tossed in the brig!" Holm jumped onto the steps leading to the keep. "Hold us in irons 'til we're old men! Not even the Emperor's gift will soften him up."

  "Gift?"

  Holm thought a moment. "He don't know it yet. Best maybe if I show him the gift first, don't you agree? Let him see that, then ease into telling him I done let his son come back to try and murder him again." The face crumbled with despair. "Oh, Alel! He's gonna keelhaul me!"

  "Maybe if you tell--"

  "I'll have them bring out that gift before they drag that son-of-a-bitch from the hold." He glanced back at Sentian. "I didn't chain up the little bugger, but I locked his conniving ass in a cabin. Took his butt down to the hold when we neared harbor." A shudder went through the man. "I ordered every tar on that ship--tell anyone we got that viper on board and I'll keelhaul your ass from here to Fealst!" He resumed his long strides, angrily thrusting his hands deep into the pockets of his breeches. He hunched his massive shoulders. "Aye, that's what I'll do. I'll have the men bring him his gift. Let him see that. Tell him--maybe tomorrow--about the brat."

  Sentian looked at the heavens, rolling his eyes.

  * * * *

  Conar ran his hands over the withers of a sleek, black stallion. The animal side-stepped away, flinging his angular head and tossing his shiny midnight mane. One massive hoof pawed at the stable floor.

  Lifting one of the steed's strong front legs, Conar whistled when he saw the bright silver horseshoe nailed to the hoof.

  "The Emperor had 'em made special," Tarnes acknowledged, spitting tobacco juice into a pile of straw. "They're supposed to be stronger than regular silver. Special properties, they say."

  "What do you think of him?" Holm asked.

  "What's his name?" Conar countered.

  "His Celestial Majesty named him Demonwind," Ching-Ching answered, "because when he runs, his hooves strike sparks of fire."

  "Demonwind," Conar whispered, like a lover saying his woman's name. He patted the sleek nose and looked the horse in the eye as it lowered its head. Something tangible passed between man and beast; something preternatural and secret only the two of them understood.

  "The Empress said this beastie was hell-spawned during one of the worst storms to hit there in a long time," Tarnes said. "His dam died giving birth to him. The father was an offspring of Seayearner's, one you sent there right after you married the lady."

  "One of the them was a foal of 'Yearner's and 'Keeper's. Are you one of their progeny, boy?" Conar smiled when the horse whinnied. "I like him even more than I did when I first saw him. He's magnificent."

  "We got another one that the Empress sent your lady," Holm said. "She's a milk-white beauty with a long, thick mane. Pretty as a picture. Her eyes are odd, though--pink. Never seen a horse with pink eyes before." Holm pointed at the stallion's hooves. "Shod with that silver just like him, too."

  The ancient talespinner's stories of the Great Warrior and his Lady-wife throbbed through Conar's mind. He'd heard the legend since he had been old enough to understand about the black hell-steed and the albino mare, which were the lovers' mounts.

  "When you're able to ride him, we'll give you that special saddle Pearl made for you," Holm said, obviously seeing the pleasure on Conar's face at the mention of the friend he'd made in Chrystallus. "Said to tell you the saddle will do this man-o'-war proud. No fripperies and such. Said you'd understand."

  Conar grinned. Grabbing a handful of the horse's mane, he gently tugged, letting the stallion know he wanted it to exit its stall. Conar whispered in the steed's ear; the beast bobbed its head.

  "What are you planning?" Ching-Ching asked.

  Conar walked the horse into the fresh morning air. The coat shone blue-black in the sunlight As the animal tossed its head, flinging his mane, it nickered in reply to Conar's low whistle.

  Gripping the horse's mane, Conar swung himself onto the steed's back. Though he felt a moment of pain, he also experienced intense pleasure at being astride the magnificent destrier.

  "Don't you even think about riding that horse!" Ching-Ching demanded. "You aren't--"

  Conar wagged his brows at Ching-Ching, then clucked his tongue and kicked his heels into the horse's side. With liquid ease, the animal shot forward into a fast canter.

  ----

  Ching-Ching's eyes grew wide as saucers. A tight groan issued from his clenched teeth.

  "Shit!" Holm shouted and looked toward the keep. "Shit and double shit! She's gonna have my hide for this!"

  He ran after Conar as though he could catch horse and rider on foot. The animal stretched into a full run and took the corral fence in one long lunge.

  Ching-Ching stood with arms folded over his squat chest, frowning. Horse and rider moved like one being across the meadow beyond which led to Lake Myria. Conar's black clothes blended into the horse's coat, and from a distance, they looked like a centaur of the old yarns. Shaking his head, Ching-Ching turned to go back to the keep.

  Not more than two feet away, Liza blocked his path, her face livid with rage. One small foot tapped an angry rhythm on the hard-packed earth. Her green eyes narrowed, glowing with inner fury, while her hands clenched into fists at her side.

  "You were suppose to be watching him," she accused, her vision sweeping over the men. She looked at Tarnes, who flinched, then her gaze leapt back to Ching-Ching. "Well?"

  Though the Chrystallusian had never been afraid of anyone, this diminutive woman scared the hell out of him. He wanted no berating from her caustic tongue, no green-eyed glare from her lovely face. He ducked his head and wished with all his heart he was tending his garden in Chrystallus.

  "Holm?" she asked, a brow arching. "What have you to say?"

  "He got away," Holm said, swallowing.

  "So he did! And why?" Her gaze swung to Sentian.

  "We--uh--we weren't watching him close enough?"


  "Precisely!" Turning, she began a not very lady-like stomp toward the keep. "Bring Regan to the keep, Holm," she ordered over her shoulder. "Take him to his old room, Sentian." She turned and stared at her Sentinel. "And see he stays there!"

  The men stared at her, agape.

  "How did she know about...?" Holm snapped his mouth shut. "Oh, Sweet Merciful Alel! We're gonna hang for sure!"

  ----

  Standing at his window, Occultus smiled when he viewed Liza fling open the garden door, angrily screeching to the trees, shrubs, fountain, and seagate, frightening into flight a flock of martins lounging in the Temple tree.

  "Son of a bitch!" she yelled, her head thrown back.

  Occultus shook his head when he saw the racing rider and stallion in the meadow beyond.

  "It's time to fly again, eh, fledgling?" he whispered against the window glass. His eyes lowered to the woman in the garden, and he chuckled. "Let's hope you don't get your wings clipped before you do!"

  Chapter 21

  * * *

  Liza stood outside Regan's room and stared at the door. She had come here several times over the last few hours, wanting to enter and wanting to flee at the same time. She could sense the boy's confusion and pain, and truly wanted to help, but the knowledge of what he had done to the man she loved turned her soft heart to stone. She tried to tell herself she felt no pity for the child, considering who had borne him and taught him the hate that compelled him to strike out at Conar; but her motherly instincts, stronger than her anger toward Raja, told her differently. With her courage screwed into a tight ball, she twisted the door handle, not giving herself time to stall.

  * * * *

  Three hours passed before Conar finally returned to the keep. His eyes strayed to the front door, half expecting Liza to storm outside, dagger in hand. But her not being there was worse. His eyes lifted to their room, but he didn't see her glowering down at him.

  Instead, his eyes met Regan's. He stared up at the boy, their gazes fused, until Regan flinched and looked behind him as though someone had called his name. The boy moved out of sight.

  Conar continued to stare at the window, willing the boy to return. When he didn't, Conar sighed. He slid down from his steed and patted the beast's backside. A stable boy threw a rope over the animal's neck.

  "Give extra care, Matt. He's a valiant runner," Conar said, smiling.

  "Did you have a good romp, Milord?" Jah-Ma-El asked as he casually walked toward his brother. His finger marked a place in the large tome of poetry that he never seemed to be without.

  A guilty grin spread over Conar's lips. "Aye, I did. Will you do me a favor and let Liza know I'm back?"

  Jah-Ma-El's chin lifted; his eyes glowed. "Oh, she already knows you're back!"

  "Is she mad?"

  "You'll find out soon enough."

  Conar frowned. Aye, he thought, the lady was mad.

  He turned and saw Holm sauntering toward him. With an apologetic look, he held up a hand. "I'll make sure she understands it was my doing and not yours, Holm."

  The sea captain's brows drew together. He shook his shaggy head. "No, it's not that."

  "If it's about Regan having stowed away on your ship," Conar said, "I don't hold you responsible."

  "It ain't about that, either, but I'm glad you ain't mad. It's about du Mer."

  Conar saw the concern on Holm's beefy face. "What's Teal done?"

  "Nothing that I know of. It's just...well, it's about..." He stopped, seemed to gather his courage. "It's about him and my Jenny."

  Knowing things had escalated between the couple, Conar nodded. "You want me to have a talk with him? Find out his intentions?"

  "Oh, I know the little prick's intentions!" Holm grimaced. "He came to me last eve, almost before I had my bags unpacked, to ask for Jenny's hand."

  Conar's brow shot upward in surprise. "It's gone that far?"

  "I'm afraid so." Holm looked out across the courtyard. "I like the little bugger, don't get me wrong, and Jenny is head over heels about him. I just have a question or two about the lad, that's all."

  "Such as?" Conar bent down to dust off his breeches.

  Holm took a deep breath and turned his eyes to Conar. "Can he control that infernal gambling?"

  "To Teal, gambling is a way of life. He doesn't lose all that much, but he tends to cheat, as I'm sure others have told you." He watched the frown deepen on Holm's face. "But if you told him the only way he could have Jenny to wife is if he gave up gambling altogether, he just might go for it." Conar smiled. "It depends on how much he loves her."

  "I think he loves her about as much as she does him." Holm raked his blunt fingers through his hair and sat on the keep's steps. "I never thought to hear my Jenny talk again or be as happy as she is with du Mer. You should see the cow eyes she makes at that boy!" Holm rolled his own eyes. "It's disgusting. But Mary and me have never seen her as carefree as she is. Teal du Mer has been a godsend to her."

  "Teal's never grown up," Conar admitted, joining Holm on the steps. "That's the best kind of man for Jenny, don't you think? I knew from the moment they met they were going to be a part of each other." He laid a hand on Holm's shoulder. "I have a good feeling about this match. I think you can trust Teal to be a loving and faithful husband. It's taken him a good long while to find what he's been searching for, and I think that was Jenny van de Lar."

  Holm sighed. "I think so, too."

  "Is something else bothering you about the match, then?" Conar asked, searching his friend's eyes.

  "Remember when you and him were boys?"

  Conar nodded, puzzled by the pained look in Holm's eyes.

  "Well, you and Legion, and sometimes Brelan, you'd all go sailing with me." Holm stared at the guard tower. "Du Mer never went but that one time."

  A sudden light went on in Conar's mind. He smiled, but ducked his head to keep Holm from seeing it. "I remember."

  "He ain't got no better at sailing, has he?" Holm turned to see Conar laughing. "I didn't think so. Me, a sailing man, with a son-in-law who can't abide the sea." He sighed. "It's just not to be borne, is it?"

  "Well, look at it this way. It's better than a sharp stick in the eye."

  * * * *

  Regan had been sitting in his narrow window seat all morning. He had watched his father race across the meadow that ran beside the winding stream to the north of the keep. He had hugged his knees to his chest and rested his chin on them, never letting his father and the magnificent horse out of sight. His mind was not on what he was watching, but rather the coming anger that he knew his father would settle on his shoulders when he returned to find him.

  When Conar had ridden into the courtyard and saw Regan watching him, there had been no change on the man's face, no anger in the dark eyes. There hadn't even been a lowering of his brows. As the door to his room opened, he flinched, and his eyes went wide with fear.

  The Queen entered and quietly closed the door behind her. Regan lifted his chin in defiance, daring her to yell. She didn't. Instead, she calmly sat on the settee by the fireplace, folded her hands in her lap, and looked at him.

  Regan moved across the room as far away from her as the room would allow, never taking his eyes off her, as if she were a pit viper to be kept under close scrutiny. He expected her to berate him, but there was no prim line at her mouth, no tenseness to her posture as she regarded him. It puzzled him. He thought her eyes calm, her manner polite, so decided she was trying to intimidate him through silence.

  "I came to talk to you," she finally said, "because I don't believe you knew what you were doing. I don't believe it was your intention--nor was it Kaileel's--that you murder your father. It is also my belief that you were used in a way you don't understand."

  Regan didn't answer, but fumbled with the edge of his tunic.

  "You have reason to be angry with your father for sending you away. But I think you know it was not him, but your Uncle Brelan, who sent you away before you knew whether you
r father was sorely wounded or not." She took a deep breath. "Someone should have told you his condition. You must have thought you had killed him."

  "I knew I hadn't!" he snapped. "I know things!"

  Liza nodded. "I know you do, but you weren't sure, were you?"

  He shrugged disdainfully.

  "Your father's hatred for your mother, for the things she did, and his loathing of Kaileel Tohre, have tempered his trust and caring for you. He's found it difficult to accept you, as he found it difficult to accept Corbin. It has nothing to do with either you or your brother, but his feelings toward those who manipulated him. He's a proud man."

  "He's stubborn! Stubborn and arrogant!"

  A faint smile touched her lips. "He is, at times. But then again, most great warriors are."

  "And he's churlish!" Regan's eyes narrowed.

  Her laugh sounded like a tinkling bell. "I agree. I called him such when he and I first met."

  Regan stared at her. "Did he beat you for it?"

  Liza shook his head. "How many women do you know of that he has beaten, Regan?" She watched his eyes carefully. "Conar is not a man to take his hand or belt to a female."

  "He would the bitch who bore me, if he could!"

  A dark blush touched her cheekbones. "I agree. He might if he ever gets his hands on her."

  "He ought to kill her..."

  She continued speaking in a calm, soothing voice. "Sometimes when he looks at you, he sees the mistakes of his youth, and it angers him. But again, it isn't you with whom he's angry. It's your mother who well deserves his anger. Your fight with Corbin came at a bad time, when he and his brother were at odds. Sending you to Chrystallus was not a punishment."

  "Then what was it if not punishment, Lady?"

  "He feared Tohre had sent you to harm Corbin." She sighed. "I fear we all thought that might have been the reason. It never occurred to any of us that you would try to harm Conar."