WINDDREAMER

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  "Du Mer?" Jah-Ma-El asked, reading the elaborate calligraphy on the cover of the book.

  "Aye," Chase answered absently. He thumbed the pages, wrinkling his nose at the dust and odor, until he found the correct place. He scanned the page, his finger running down the parchment. "Ah, here!" He turned the book so Legion could read.

  Legion bent over, squinting to make out the fancy scribbling. He shrugged. "All I can make out is the name 'Cull.'"

  "Exactly! Roget's and Teal's father. It lists his so-called crimes against the Tribunal, as well as Roget's. It lists Teal's mother and information on that side of the family. But..." Chase picked up the book and peered closely at the print. "Listen to this...

  "In the Year now known as the Year of the Reaper, Duke Cullford Langston du Mer married one Teresa Adelaine Downs. Upon the marriage, the Downs family gave over into du Mer's keeping that portion of land from the fork of the river Minburn to that section of hillside known as Beggar's Knoll. The land, and the keep du Mer built thereon, was named Downsgate in honor of the family for their generous dowry. On the winter solstice of the Year now known as the Year of the Fox, du Mer's wife presented him with a son they named Roget Alexis. (Note: An attempt will be made to utilize this boy at our discretion.)"

  Chase looked up, his eyes filled with hatred. "There's quite a few of those kind of notations throughout these books."

  "Is there a book on every important family within the Seven Kingdoms?" Legion asked, looking alarmed.

  Chase nodded. "With birth dates and marriages and deaths. All the little scandals the families were involved in. Mistresses, lovers, etc." He pointed his finger at Legion. "Just listen!"

  "A second, illegitimate son, Tealson, gotten off a gypsy wench whose name has no meaning to our purposes, was born nine years later. This boy is considered to be unworthy of our interest since he shows no intelligence."

  "Teal will be delighted to hear that," Jah-Ma-El mumbled.

  "Don't interrupt!" Chase snapped. He leaned closer to the book in anticipation. "In the spring of the Year now known as the Year of the Laurel, the old Duke got with child a handmaiden of the Serenian Queen, Moira. The child, a worthless female, was also born during the Winter Solstice. She showed signs of magical ability, and was considered to be of a threat to us."

  Chase looked up. "It tells all about the mother, but let me finish with this before I tell you who she was." He could see avid interest on Legion's bearded face, confusion on Jah-Ma-El's.

  "During the birthing process, we managed to execute the mother, but the child survived our attempt to eliminate it with the unfortunate arrival of the grandmother. Jabus Andoire, one of the Cardinals at that time, would not let us try again for fear of retaliation by the Serenian whore, Moira, so the child survives. As the bitchlet ages, she shows no desire to use her talents and we have decided to ignore her. At the death of her grandmother, we installed the bitchlet at one of our Doorways, where she remained until interference by the Chosen."

  "The Chosen?" Legion inquired.

  Chase waved his hand in annoyance. "The book goes on to tell about how Roget was caught years ago." A flush spread over Montyne's face. "My part in it. Cull's death and--" He looked up. "Even Teal's recent marriage."

  "It's that up to date?" Jah-Ma-El asked.

  "It appears so." Chase closed the book. He fused his gaze with Legion's. "If we tell Roget and Teal they have a sister, how do you think they'll take it?"

  "There's no mistake?" Legion asked. "No other entry that might say she's dead?"

  "It names her and her mother. She's very much alive."

  Jah-Ma-El's face cleared and he sat in a chair. "One of the Doorways..." he whispered.

  "You know, don't you?" Chase asked.

  "I believe so."

  "Well, I don't!" Legion snapped. "If this woman is someone the du Mer's will be ashamed of--"

  "Not at all." Jah-Ma-El smiled, the first smile he had known in days. "I believe they will be stunned, true, but most happy with the situation."

  "Who?" Legion growled.

  "Norus was one of the Doorways, Legion," Chase said.

  "And Conar was the Chosen," Jah-Ma-El whispered.

  Legion opened his mouth, as if prepared to yell his displeasure at the cryptic remarks. But then his mouth snapped shut. Opened and shut again.

  "You look like a fish when you do that," Chase taunted. "It's not becoming. Don't do it anymore."

  Legion snapped his lips shut, his eyes narrowing. He shook his head in wonder. "Gezelle?"

  "Her mother's name was Gwendolyn. She was one of the Queen's servants. Her grandmother, Rosaleen, was a Daughter of the Multitude, personal maid to Queen Moira."

  Legion slumped into a chair. "You're sure of this?"

  "The book reveals things I'd just as soon not know, but in this instance, I think a little good news will help everyone, don't you?" Chase shoved the book toward Legion. "Do you want me to call Roget and Teal, or do you want to tell them?"

  "Chandling Wynth has asked Gezelle to marry him now that Wes is gone," Jah-Ma-El threw in, talking about the former Elite who had died mysteriously while the Force was at the Monastery. "Of course the Joining has been postponed a while, considering Gezelle's mourning."

  Chase grinned. "Chand will have to ask the du Mer brothers' permission, now, won't he?"

  Legion smiled, too. "Oh, Roget's gonna love it!"

  "Roget?" Jah-Ma-El laughed. "It's Teal who's gonna get the biggest kick out of this! Just think of all the children of Gezelle's and Wes' that Teal has pampered and loved through the years. Now, his title of Uncle Teal would be for real."

  Chase smiled. Maybe things were looking up after all.

  * * * *

  Legion wasn't surprised to see his brother sitting up in bed, staring vacantly across the room. He closed the door and walked to Conar's bedside. "You couldn't sleep?"

  Conar shook his head.

  "Did you even try?"

  No answer.

  Legion sighed and sat on the mattress. "I've got something to tell you."

  The blue gaze flitted his way in obvious fear.

  "Nothing's happened. As a matter of fact, it's good news."

  The sapphire orbs closed in relief.

  Legion lay a hand across his brother's. "You'll like what I'm about to tell you..."

  * * * *

  A silent Roget stared at Chase, while Teal grinned from ear to ear, his loud whoop making everyone jump.

  Both du Mer's had reacted pretty much as Jah-Ma-El had predicted they would upon hearing the news. Roget looked dumbfounded, struck speechless for what could well have been the first time in his life. His face went chalk-white, his expression puzzled and a little wary. But Teal nearly leapt for joy, his dimples so deep they looked as though someone had poked them there.

  Roget gasped, glaring at Chase. "This isn't funny at all."

  "No, it's wonderful!" Teal looked around, striking out for the hallway. "Where is she? Gezelle?" His merry voice rose. "Gezelle?"

  "Wait!" Roget ordered, springing to his feet, sending his chair flying behind him. He ran after his younger brother. "Damn it, Teal, I said to wait! We'll both tell her!" He cursed, running after Teal, who bounded up the stairs. "Teal du Mer, you wait, I said!"

  * * * *

  Although he only mumbled approval, Conar apparently agreed with Legion regarding the good news. He looked at his hands. "She deserves happiness. Chand will make her a good husband."

  "Don't try doing this on your own." Legion squeezed Conar's fingers. "This is one time you shouldn't be alone. You've been alone too much in your lifetime, little brother."

  "Don't call me that. I'm not a little boy anymore."

  Legion understood. "I meant nothing by it. The endearment doesn't belittle you in any way, but if it bothers you, I won't use it again."

  "Thank you."

  "But I meant what I said. I don't want you trying to handle your grief on your own. I'm here to help."

  "This is
something I must do alone. It's a journey I must take by myself. Believe me when I say you would not like to travel my road with me."

  "I would go to hell itself if you needed me beside you!"

  A look of intense sorrow passed over Conar's face. His lips twitched, not in a smile, but in acknowledgment of the offer. "You've been a good friend, Legion A'Lex. And as a brother, no man could ask for better. I have always loved you."

  "I don't see how you could after--"

  Conar shook his head. "I understood how you felt. Believe me, I did. Who better than I?"

  The pain in Conar's voice cut Legion to the core. He threw his arms around Conar and wept. The grief he had previously denied releasing now wrenched his body with thundering sobs. He felt Conar's arms hold him tightly, and vaguely heard low murmurs of comfort. When he at last pulled away, he looked at Conar's dry face.

  "I'm all right," Conar said. "But I need to be alone. Respect that. When I'm ready, I'll come downstairs."

  Legion wanted to stay, wanted to talk. Something deep inside him warned him to stay, but when Conar asked again that he be left alone, Legion surrendered and made to leave. Looking over his shoulder as he closed the door, he saw Conar staring vacantly across the room. He wanted to say something. Felt the need to, but couldn't. Conar's silence was like a warning that time had moved past words.

  * * * *

  Conar heard the door close, but didn't look that way. He sat as still as death, his heart beating so slowly, so wearily, in his chest. It wasn't really true that he felt nothing. He did. He felt an ache, a terrible ache that had settled in his heart and refused to leave.

  He knew he would have that ache for the rest of his life.

  He wanted it there to remind him what had to be done.

  Chapter 16

  * * *

  He walked to her door and lifted his hand to knock, then thought better of it and turned to leave. But he stopped, looking at the worn carpet in the hallway. His eyes lifted to the torchlight on the wall opposite her door, and he watched the flame waver in a slight draft.

  Again, he turned, faced the door, and raised his hand. He still hesitated, more unsure of himself than he would have liked to admit. Unsure of his welcome, of her reaction to him, of his own feelings. A part of him wanted to rush into the room, to make sure with his own eyes she was all right. But another part of him wanted to run as far away as he could get, for he was the cause of her being where she was, and the cause of her tears.

  He leaned his head against the door's cool planking and closed his eyes. What if she blamed him? What if she didn't want to see him? What if his appearance upset her or caused her more pain?

  He pushed away from the door and stared at the handle for a long time, trying to make up his mind. He was about to leave when he heard her voice through the wood.

  "Who's there?"

  He flinched, looking down the hallway to the stairs. It was late, maybe too late, and he shouldn't be bothering her. When she called out her question again, he answered in a soft voice--"Conar."

  After a lengthy pause, he thought she wouldn't speak again, that she did not want to see him. But at last she told him to enter. Before he could run away, he reached for the handle and opened the door.

  Amber-lea was sitting up in the bed. A candle on the bedside table bathed her pretty face in an oval of translucent light. She looked pale, tired, infinitely sorrowful, but she held up her arms, beckoning him. It took him a long time to go to her. He eased himself on the mattress and leaned into her arms, laying his head on her shoulder. Her slender arms enfolded him.

  "It took me a moment to remember your name, Milord," she said in a weak and hoarse voice. Her fingers smoothed his hair. "I have called you Raven for so long."

  "Raven has left this world, Milady."

  "With his lady and his brother, Milord?"

  He flinched and would have pulled away, but she held him to her.

  "No, stay where you are. Let me hold you."

  "I am sorry," he whispered, feeling the numbness in his body nearly choking him with its intensity.

  "For what, Milord? You are not at fault." She bent forward and planted a soft kiss on his head. Her hands cupped the nape of his neck. "What happened was Alel's will."

  He wanted to cry. He needed to cry, but no tears would come. He felt as though his heart was breaking, but there wasn't a drop of moisture in his soul for him to dredge forth. He looked across the room to the pier glass that faced the bed and saw them both, lover and mistress holding onto one another, their true loves gone beyond sight and sound and touch. All they had now was each other, and the tiny being they had created together.

  As though she had read his thoughts, she smiled, looking into the pier glass, fusing her gaze with his. "Have you seen our son, Milord?"

  "Not yet."

  Her smile turned tender and dreamy.

  "What did you name him?"

  "If you have no objections, Milord, I will name him after your brother." Her smile faltered and she tensed, waiting for his reply.

  He buried his cheek against her shoulder and closed his eyes.

  "If that offends you, Milord, I will--"

  "No. It would make me most proud, Milady, for him to be named after my brother."

  She seemed to relax. "Then, Brelan, it is."

  He opened his eyes, but did not look back at the mirror; he would not--could not--look at her.

  "You are well, Milord?" she asked, worry in her voice.

  "I will do." He eased out of her arms and gently touched her cheek with his hand. "And you? Are you well?"

  She shrugged. "A little sore, a little weak, perhaps, but otherwise, well." She pressed his cold fingers to her soft, warm cheek. "Your son is a most wondrous piece of work. He has your hair and coloring and his eyes are a bright blue."

  Conar's brows drew together. "Not sapphire, like mine?"

  She shook her head. "A pale blue. Like Corbin's. He even has the tiny row of moles on the small of his back that you do."

  He wanted to smile, felt like smiling, needed to smile at her remark, but he couldn't. His face seemed frozen, incapable of showing any emotion save pain and sorrow. He looked at her, hoping to convey his pleasure at her words, and told her that all his sons had such a unique configuration of birthmarks. He knew she had understood.

  "It is difficult, isn't it, Milord?" she asked, obviously trying to make him hear the real question beneath her words.

  "The hardest thing I've ever had to endure." Conar kissed her cheek. "Thank you for giving me a new son, dearling." He took her hands in his and brought the palms together, kissed her fingertips, then eased up from the bed. "I shall see him in the morning."

  She sat up straighter, a spasm of pain crossing her face. Hesitancy showed in her pretty eyes. "If something should happen to me--"

  "Nothing will happen to you! I could not bear it, Madame!"

  "But should something happen--" She held up her hand to forestall his protest. "Will you vow that our son will be taken care of?"

  "Need you ask?"

  "I need to hear the words." She smiled tenderly. "Humor me?"

  Conar felt like screaming at her, asking her if she thought he would let anything happen to their child. But Legion's recent accusation hit him in the face--Like you took care of Elizabeth?

  "Aye, Milady," he answered, striding for the door. "On my life I will see that nothing happens to our child."

  "Milord?" she called. "I know you will!"

  He jerked open the door and fled the room, pulling the portal shut behind him with more force than necessary. He blinked at the loud bang and leaned against the wood, his hands on the handle, and hung his head. Did everyone think him incapable of taking care of his own?

  The question stung him. He hurried down the corridor, took the stairs two at a time up to his father's room, and slammed the door behind him, barely noting the two Outer Kingdom warriors who stood at attention when he hurried past. Flinging himself down on the coverlet,
he drew fistfuls of the brocade into his hands and turned his cheek into the cool silk.

  "I can," he snarled. "I can!"

  But a nagging voice at the back of his mind told him it wasn't so sure.

  Chapter 17

  * * *

  Gezelle stared at the two men. On her lap sat her youngest child, her baby daughter, who tried to gain her mother's attention. But Gezelle's whole being centered on the du Mer brothers as they sat uneasily on the edges of their chairs, facing her. She looked from one expectant face to the other, and what she saw caused her even more confusion.

  Duke Roget du Mer looked as though he were about to fall into an apoplectic fit. He perspired, his tongue constantly darting to his upper lip to lick away trickles of salty seepage beading there. Two high spots of color on his cheekbones dotted his otherwise pale face. He wrung his hands in his lap, his fingers constantly twisting around one another. His left leg jumped as though he had just ridden a hundred miles at a stretch before coming to her chambers. His dark gold tresses looked as though he had plowed his fingers through them numerous times.

  As rigid and seemingly nervous as Roget du Mer, his brother seemed just that relaxed. A beautific smile lined the gypsy's face and he kept winking at Gezelle to show his apparent good humor. He continuously tapped his right foot on the carpet, while his fingers drummed out a rhythm on his thighs. He looked as though he might spring forward at any moment to clasp Gezelle in a bear hug that would squash the air from her lungs.

  He looked more immaculately groomed than Gezelle could ever remember, and his high color and twinkling smile were what caused many a maiden to give up her hymen to this handsome dark-eyed, dark-haired man. Now and again he would whistle, throwing back his head as though he would burst if he did not. When his gaze held Gezelle's, so much happiness filled those gleaming orbs, she felt giddy just looking at them.

  "Does it displease you?" Roget stammered, flinching when her attention leapt back to him. He fidgeted, jammed his fingers through his hair.